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diff --git a/39708-8.txt b/39708-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9cb51f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/39708-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14221 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Mortal Gods and Other Plays, by Olive Tilford Dargan + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: The Mortal Gods and Other Plays + +Author: Olive Tilford Dargan + +Release Date: May 16, 2012 [EBook #39708] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MORTAL GODS AND OTHER PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + + + + + BOOKS BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN + + PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + THE MORTAL GODS and Other Plays. 12mo, _net._ $1.50 + LORDS AND LOVERS and Other Dramas. 12mo, _net._ 1.50 + SEMIRAMIS and Other Plays. 12mo, _net._ 1.00 + + + + + THE MORTAL GODS + AND OTHER PLAYS + + + + + THE MORTAL GODS + AND + OTHER PLAYS + + BY + OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN + + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SON'S + 1912 + + + + + _Copyright, 1912, by Charles Scribner's Sons_ + _All rights reserved_ + + _Published November, 1912_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + THE MORTAL GODS 1 + A SON OF HERMES 107 + KIDMIR 221 + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE MORTAL GODS + +A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS + + + + +_CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY_ + + + HUDIBRAND, _King of Assaria_ + HERNDA, _his daughter_ + CHARTRIEN, _a Prince of Assaria_ + BORDUC, _Prime Minister_ + COUNT DORKINSKI, _Court Chamberlain_ + + CORDIAZ, _King of Goldusan_ + MEGARIO, _Governor of Peonia, a province of Goldusan_ + REJAN LEVAL, _a revolutionist_ + SEÑORA ZIRALAY, _his sister_ + ZIRALAY } + RUBIREZ } + GOLIFET } _nobles of Goldusan_ + MAZARAN } + GUILDAMOUR } + + MASIO } + GARZA } + GONZALO } + YSOBEL } _of Megario's hacienda_ + GRIJA } + COQURIEZ } + IPARRO } + + _Guests, officers, musicians, peons, &c._ + + Time: _Begins February, 1911_ + Place: _Assaria; Goldusan_ + + + + +ACT I + + +SCENE: _A vast room in the palace of Hudibrand. As the curtain rises the +place is in darkness save for a circlet of gold apparently suspended in +mid-air near the centre of the room. As the light increases, the outline +of a man's figure becomes distinguishable, and the circlet is seen to be +resting on his head. Gradually the rim of gold fades to invisibility, +while the figure of the man and the contents of the room become clear to +the eye. The man might be mistaken for an American citizen in customary +evening dress. He is Hudibrand._ + +_At the left are two entrances, upper and lower. Rear, left, large +windows. The wall rear makes a right angle about centre, the apex of +which is cut off by a window. Right of centre the room seems to extend +endlessly rearward, and is arranged to suggest an upland grove in the +delicate, venturing days of spring. The ground, rising a little toward +right, is covered with winter moss and tufts of short silvered grass. +The trees are young birch, slight maples in coral leaf, cornel in +flower, and an occasional dark foil of cedar. A brooklet ripples down +the slope and off rear. Birds chirp and flit, and now and then a breeze +stirs the grove as if it were one tender body. The lights are arranged +to give the effect of night or day as one wishes._ + +_It is winter without, the climate of Assaria's capital city being +similar to that of New York._ + +_Double doors lower right, through which Count Dorkinski enters to +Hudibrand._ + + + _Dor._ Your majesty, Sir Borduc has arrived. + + _Hudi._ Hot-shod. We'll let him cool. + + _Dor._ Where shall he wait, + My lord? + + _Hud._ His usual corner. Keep him off + My Delhi rug. + [_Exit Dorkinski_] + Poor Bordy's fuming ripe. + + [_Re-enter the Count_] + + _Dor._ His Excellency calls, your majesty. + + _Hud._ Which Excellency? They are thick as hops. + + _Dor._ The Governor of Peonia. + + _Hud._ In time and tune. + We'll see him here. + [_Exit Dorkinski_] + A pawn of mine who'd push + Beyond his square, and I must humor him + 'Neath meditative thumb. + + [_Enter Megario_] + + _Hud._ Welcome, Megario. + + _Meg._ I've travelled far + To press your hand. + + _Hud._ We made appointment here, + Knowing your visit to Assaria touched + Nothing of state or office. + + _Meg._ [_Accepting his cue_] Nothing, sir. [_Looks about him_] + I thought I left the springtide in my rear, + Three thousand miles or so, but here it greets me. + + _Hud._ A gimcrack of my daughter's. She would freak + With sun and time. My toyshop has no walls. + I juggle too with seasons, climates, zones, + But in the open where there's warrior room, + And startled Fate may spring against my will, + Giving an edge to mastery when I wrest + The whip from Nature, turn it on herself, + And set her elemental slaves to filch + Her gold for me. That, friend, is play. + + _Meg._ For gods + And not as thief, but as divinity, + You take from crouching Nature. + + _Hud._ Men have said + I pile up gold because its glitter soothes + A fever in my eyes. The clacking fools! + I am no Cheops making warts on earth. + No mummy brain! God built my pyramids, + Slaving through dark and chaos till there rose + My iron-hearted hills, and mountains locked + On ago-unyielded treasure waiting me. + There slept my gems till longing became fire + And broke the grip of stone,--there lay my gold, + Re-purged each thousand years till baited Time + Gave up the master's hour. + + [_Hernda has come from the grove and moves up to his side_] + + _Her._ [_Adoringly_] And you the master! + + _Hud._ Daughter, you owe my lord Megario + Some pretty thanks. + + _Her._ I give them, sir. + + _Meg._ No, no! + I pray your Highness, no! My thanks to earth + That bears the flower of you, and to the light + That makes my eyes your beauty's treasurer. + But thanks from you to me, as jewels hung + Upon a beggar's neck, would set my rags + Unkindly in the sun. + + _Her._ Then I am not + Your debtor? + + _Meg._ Mine the debt, that mounts too fast + For feeble payment from thin purse of words. + Ah, every moment adds a suitor hope + To th' bankrupts in my heart. + + _Her._ I fear, my lord, + Your coiner's name is Fancy, and I like + Truth's mintage best. [_To her father_] + What is this debt of mine, + So languished that a word of thanks may be + Its slender cover? + + _Meg._ A word, if beauty speak it, + May mantle a bare world. + + _Hud._ His Excellency + Is Governor of Peonia---- + + _Her._ In Goldusan! + + _Hud._ And smoothed my road there---- + + _Meg._ Nay, your majesty, + My aid was but a garnish on the might + That moves with your own name. + + _Hud._ Between us then, + We saved my holdings through a bluster there. + And what they brought me I've tossed here to make + This smile on winter. + + _Meg._ What? You gave her all? + + _Her._ How, sir? One word of mine would robe a world. + And my whole self not worth a little spot + Twitched from Spring's garment? + + _Meg._ Oh, I'd grind the stars + To imperial dust that you might trample them,-- + But this--this was a _fortune_! + [_To Hudibrand_] Sir, 'tis true + You care not for the gold. + + _Hud._ I care for it + As men of hero times held dear the sword + That made them lords of battle. + + _Her._ You are lord + Of Peace! + + _Meg._ Write that upon the clouds, that eyes + Of men and angels may contending claim + The truth for earth and heaven! + + _Hud._ Tush, sir, tush! + + _Meg._ Can I forget how at your kingly touch + My fair Peonia, paling in treason's grip, + Thrilled from her deathward droop, renewed her heart + Through safe, ease-lidded nights, and woke once more + The rose of fortune? + + _Hud._ There's no rumble now + Of riot? + + _Meg._ Not a sound comes to our ears + But from the toiling strokes that steadily + Uproll Peonia's wealth. + + _Hud._ Yet those who led + The last revolt are free. + + _Meg._ Not all, your Highness. + A few crossed to Assaria, but expedition + Warms on their trail. Rejan LeVal is tracked + To your own capital. + + _Hud._ Nay, mend that, sir. + We're safe here from such ruck. + + _Meg._ The startled eel + Will make for muddy waters,--and 'tis sure + LeVal found murky welcome here. + + _Hud._ My city! + What mutinous bolt turns here for him? + + _Meg._ His friends + Are friends of power. How else could he elude + The thousand eyes in search? + + _Hud._ [_Musing_] Treason at court?... + + _Meg._ We'll mouse LeVal to 's cranny, do not doubt. + Then we shall ask Assaria's great seal + For his delivery to Goldusan. + + _Hud._ That is assured you. + + _Meg._ But your minister, + Sir Borduc, warns---- + + _Hud._ Ha! Warns? + + _Meg._ He urges that + The extraditing power is at pause, + Blocked by the people's will. + + _Hud._ I've given my word,-- + A word that mobbish din ne'er added to, + Nor yet stripped of one letter that I chose + Should spell authority. You ask for more? + + _Meg._ Pardon, your majesty! It is enough, + Beyond all stretch of need. + + _Hud._ I call to mind + That Borduc waits,--and primed for tongue-work too. + The princess will content your Excellency? + + _Meg._ [_With obeisance to Hernda_] 'Tis Heaven's honor! + I have left the earth! + + _Hud._ You waste your art. She's in the milk-maid humor. + Would marry Hob. [_Exit, lower right_] + + _Meg._ The Señor Hob? He says + You'll marry him? [_Hernda laughs_] + You care not if I die! + + _Her._ You'll live, my lord. + + _Meg._ You'll marry Hob. I die! + + _Her._ He is not Hob. That is my father's mock + Because he's poor. + + _Meg._ [_In hope_] Ah, poor? + + _Her._ A beggarly + Ten millions,--not a penny more. + + _Meg._ Ten millions! + + _Her._ But that's my joy. I would not wed for gold. + + _Meg._ O, pity me! I love you, señorita! + + _Her._ No, no! I must not hear that. + + _Meg._ Then I'll pray + Silence to be my friend and speak my dumb + Unuttered heart. + + _Her._ You must not love me, sir. + But you may love--my father. When you praised him, + You too seemed fair to me. + + _Meg._ I'll sing him till + The stars lie at our feet, if you will listen! + + _Her._ He gave your country peace? + + _Meg._ His royal name + Is dear as Cordiaz' in the grateful heart + Of Goldusan. That proud land lay unkept. + Her ores intombed, her vales without a plough, + Her rivers wasting down to shipless seas, + Her people starving, while her nobles strove + For shreds of power,--the clouted thing we called + A government. Then on our factions fell, + Strong as a god's, the hand of Hudibrand; + And now, compact, we stand by Cordiaz, + While every mountain groans with golden birth. + And every river turns its thousand wheels, + And every valley buried is in bloom. + + _Her._ My dearest father! But I knew 'twas so! + And they who starved are fed and happy now? + They reap the bloom and share the golden flood? + + _Meg._ All will be well when once we've scourged the land + Of rebels that drip poison from their tongues, + Stirring the meek and unambitious poor,-- + Who sought no life but saintly, noble toil,-- + With strangest rage, till maddened they would bite + The fostering hand of God. + + _Her._ We've prisons where + We put such troublers. Has your land no jails? + + _Meg._'Tis full of them! I mean--ah, we have jails, + But foes like these are wary, slip all watch,-- + Flee and dart back, our weariness their charter + To tread with havoc's hoof. If I could find + Rejan LeVal, then might I rest from guard, + But not while he--unlassoed warrigal!-- + May canter from his thicket and paw up + Peonia's fields! + + _Her._ I'll lend an adjutant. + Ask Chartrien, who knows each foggy nook + And smirchèd corner of the capital,-- + Having once made his pastime serve a quest + For such drab knowledge,--ask him help you find + This traitor. + + _Meg._ Chartrien! Nay, the fox is safe + When th' hound too wears a brush. + + _Her._ You mean the prince? + Speak, sir! Who hints me calumny, + Shall make the drum his chorus. I'll hear all. + + _Meg._ A rumor drifts through Goldusan.... + + _Her._ Is that + An oddity? Here rumors are too thick + For ears to gather them. + + _Meg._ But this--O, princess.... + Fairest of earth, forgive me that I speak! + + _Her._ You do not speak. And that I'll not forgive. + + _Meg._ Ah, then,--but first,--is Chartrien near the king? + + _Her._ No nearer than his heart. + + _Meg._ I do offend. + + _Her._ Offence now lies in silence. Speak, my lord. + + _Meg._ When I left Goldusan, 'twas said--and with + No muffled hesitance--Prince Chartrien aids + The rebels there, and lays a train to rend + The State apart, that Cordiaz may drop + Into the gap,--then he with plausive cleat + Will make the fissure stanch, and seat himself + In unoppugnèd power. + + _Her._ Why _he is Hob_! [_Silence. They both rise_] + A mad and sorry tale, you see. + + _Meg._ I see. + He's in the capital? + + _Her._ Beneath this roof. + The palace is his home. My father holds + His meagre millions guarded, nursing them + To a prince's portion. + + _Meg._ We shall meet? + + _Her._ To-night. + He's with a friend--a Spanish gentleman,-- + But _not_ from Goldusan. + + _Meg._ I made no guess. + + _Her._ Deny that with your eyes. Your tongue's exempt. + + _Meg._ And may I meet the Spanish gentleman? + + _Her._ That's as he chooses. I may not command him. + + [_Re-enter Count Dorkinski_] + + _Dor._ His Highness, sir, is pleased to bid you join him. + + _Meg._ His pleasure is his marshal. [_To Hernda, softly_] I've your leave + To love your father. That I go from you + To him, is Heaven's proof I do. + + [_Exit Megario and the Count_] + + _Her._ The proof + I seek, and would not find, is locked in Hell, + Not Heaven. Megario lied. Oh, Chartrien! + + [_Retreats slowly into grove and pauses out of sight, rear. Enter, + upper left, Chartrien and LeVal_] + + _LeV._ No,---- + + _Cha._ Prudence, dear LeVal! + + _LeV._ I shall go mad + Shut in this gilded den,--this stifling hold + Of banditry. + + _Cha._ Peace, friend! + + _LeV._ I'd rather crouch + With brats of grime upon an unswept hearth + And claw my bread from cinders, than draw breath + In this gold-raftered house of blood! + + _Cha._ Come, come! + Your wits fly naked, stripped of every caution, + And beat suspicion up that else might keep + Untroubled bed. Whist! We must move rose-shod + Through these next hours, not clack in passion's clogs. + + _LeV._ I'll out of this! There's surge in me no fear + Can put in bonds. + + _Cha._ Nay, here and here alone + Your life is safe. The hounds of Goldusan + Sniff through the cellars. They'll not scent you in + The royal shadow. That's more brilliancy + Than ever lit a rush in houndom. This + My home, I share with you, for mine it is + Till I've secured my gold from Hudibrand. + + _LeV._ Ay, but Megario! While he's here these walls + Pen me in fire. + + _Cha._ His visit is too brief + To be a danger. + + _LeV._ Danger! To me, or him? + If we should meet, his fate as mine would be + In that encounter. These are hands would see to 't! + + _Cha._ LeVal, forget---- + + _LeV._ Forget Céleste? My wife? + Forget she died of blows while he stood by + And smiled, because _she was my wife_! + Oh, God! Breathe air with him while this arm hangs + A limp discretion! + + _Cha._ Peace! This mood unpent + Will wreck us. Keep your room if it must swell. + The princess gazes yonder, and your face + Is badged exposal. Go. I'll meet her question. + 'Twill not fash honor if a lie or two + Must be our guard. + + [_Exit LeVal upper left. Hernda emerges from grove. Chartrien waits for + her as she comes circuitously, lightly hovering and hesitating_] + + _Her._ [_At his side_] What lover's this?--dreams still + When love is by. Were he an olden knight + He'd ride to tourney and forget his spurs! + + _Cha._ He would forget the world and fame and God + To see your eyes like this! + + _Her._ You tremble, Chartrien. + Love so much?--yet stood here just--a stump-- + + _Cha._ That felt you coming, coming like a bird, + And watched and waited, envying every bough + Where you paused doubting, till you fluttering lit, + Down in the old stump's heart-- + + _Her._ There, I've forgot! + This is my lover ere that lure crept up + From Goldusan. Since you came back, I've felt + The shadow of a difference, and I've heard + The maids of Goldusan can draw men's souls + Out of their bodies for a dance in hell. + + _Cha._ My love! + + _Her._ O, Chartrien, are you mine? I feel + A question in your worship. When your eyes + Are warmest, love lies on them like + The shallow moon-gleam on a deep, dark sea + That is not kin with it. A sea that once + Was mine, and I could go, with circling arms, + Love-lanterned to its depth. But now the dark + Is round me fathomless---- + + _Cha._ My own! + + _Her._ I try to rise, + To find my wings--and feel the air again + Without your drowning touch upon me---- + + _Cha._ Hernda! + Have I so nearly lost you? Come, beloved, + Sit here, and let me vow me yours again + Till in each word you feel my beating heart. + + _Her._ My stars shall hear these vows. + [_Changes the light to pale, evening glow. Rear, right, are glimpses + of sky with frail, moving clouds, faint stars and a new moon_] + And see, my moon. + Intent and virginal. + [_She sits, and Chartrien lies on the ground, his breast covering + her feet_] + Now, now my heart + Holds not another thing but love and you! + + _Cha._ No thought of those dread wings? + + _Her._ None, none! And you? + [_Bends over him_] + All mine. I hold you now, fast in my world. + Sometimes you enter, come within my door. + And then I can not shut it for a wind + That clings about you from a farther sky. + + _Cha._ [_Rises and takes her face between his hands_] + There's but one sky! + + _Her._ A shuddering breath, + As from a planet strange, where you have walked + And I shall never go. + + _Cha._ O, shut me in, + Rose of a heart! I'll not go out though Life + Beat at the door, and call her giant storms + To knock upon 't. + + _Her._ Is this not life? And this + The only world? + + _Cha._ The only world. My habitat + One perfect hour. + + _Her._ One hour? Forever, love. + + _Cha._ O, vow it for me, sweet,--again, again! + Till I believe once more in Arcadies + Born of a silken purse. In sunsets caught + In tinted tapestries, with jacinth heart + Gold-bleeding through the woven breath of dream. + In soft moon-hours that drop from painted skies, + In fairy woodlands aye unwintering, + In love's elf-ring no boding star may cross, + And you, my Hernda, sceptred in joy's name, + Tossing the apple planets in your hands-- + These little, sovereign hands--as God might do, + Had he, poor God, your power. + + _Her._ Love, you hurt. + + _Cha._ Ah, tears in Arcady? + + _Her._ Oh, what is this + Has come between us? + + _Cha._ What? The universe. + I can not reach you even when my lips + Are on your heart. + + _Her._ May I not come to you? + + _Cha._ From this moon-world? No hope of that. + + _Her._ See then, + The day! [_Changes the light to sunrise_] + Now may I come? + + _Cha._ Forever playing! + The way lies here. + + [_Steps to window and opens it. A snowy blast rushes in_] + + _Her._ Stop, Chartrien! Shut it! Oh, + You've killed my Spring! + + _Cha._ You will not come? + + _Her._ You're mad. + + [_Struggles with the window until she closes it, Chartrien watching + her_] + + _Cha._ You do not like that road. But it is mine. + And children walk it. I have met them there. + + _Her._ Oh, I am frozen! See! + + _Cha._ [_With sudden contrition, pressing her to his breast_] + No, you are fire. + A fire that I will clasp, though it should burn + My holiest temple and betray my soul + To ashes! + + _Her._ O, my love, what secret curbs + Your nature to this chafe? It rubs even through + Your ardor.--stabs me on your breast. + May I not know it? Is not confidence + Dear blood and life of love? Without it, ours + Must pale, ghost-cold, a chill between locked arms. + + _Cha._ Is trust not love's prerogative + More royal sweet than any burdened share + Of secrecy? + + _Her._ Not to the strong! + + _Cha._ [_Smiling_] You strong? + By what brave test dost know it? + + _Her._ And by what + Dost know me weak? + + _Cha._ The proof awaits. But now,-- + Emilio needs me,-- + + _Her._ Go! + + _Cha._ Sweet, friendship too + Has bonds. Not all are love's. + + _Her._ He's ill,--your friend? + + _Cha._ As plague-bit life,--no worse. + + _Her._ You'll wait upon + My father? Bid him but good-night? + + _Cha._ No, Hernda. + + _Her._ You shun him, Chartrien. I have watched you keep + A curious distance,--ay, as though your heart + Removed itself while your unwarmèd eyes + Made invoice of its treasure. Once you rushed + Unto his counsel as security + Hived in his word, and you, denied, were lost. + Are those hours gone? If you have grown too large + For his shrunk wisdom, bind you to his need. + Age unsuspected crowns him, and you take + Your young arm out of his. + + _Cha._ He wants no staff. + + _Her._ You'll go no more to Goldusan? + + _Cha._ I must. + + _Her._ And soon? + + _Cha._ When Hudibrand is pleased to free + My fortune from his ward. + + _Her._ You want it all? + + _Cha._ Yes, all. + + _Her._ For Goldusan? + + _Cha._ My greatest need + Is there. + + _Her._ What is that need? + + _Cha._ You question me? + + _Her._ May love not ask? + + _Cha._ If love could understand. + + _Her._ Have I grown dull? I do not know you, Chartrien. + You're so unfeatured by that Spanish cloud, + You're lowering friend. _He_ is the universe + Between our hearts. Ill? No. I saw him here,-- + A tropic threat. 'Twas rage broke his suave guard, + Not illness. + + _Cha._ Hernda! + + _Her._ The Lord Megario + Has asked to compliment a brother guest. + May he be seen? Does his unmannered storm + Spare one amenity? + + _Cha._ Megario knows? + + _Her._ Knows what? + + _Cha._ Oh!--nothing. + + _Her._ So much more than naught + Your cheek is pale with it. + + _Cha._ No matter, Hernda. + + _Her._ An ashen matter truly, yet not light + As nothing. But your answer. May our guests + Exchange the roof-tree greeting? + + _Cha._ No. + + _Her._ Why not? + That "no" trails consequence. It can not be + Your period. + + _Cha._ They are enemies. + + _Her._ I knew! + + _Cha._ Megario dealt my friend a bitter wrong,-- + The foulest wrong that man may put on man. + + _Her._ He's loyal to my father. I know that + Of him,--and of Emilio--nothing. + + _Cha._ Sweet, + I beg one day! + + _Her._ One day? What's hatching here + That's one day short its time? + + [_Enter, lower right, Hudibrand, Megario, and Borduc_] + + _Cha._ [_Drawing Hernda aside_] To-morrow, love! + + _Her._ To-night! + + _Hud._ You've won your suit, Megario. + If by our presence in your Goldusan + We can advance that sister country's peace. + The journey's naught. We'll count it done. + + _Meg._ My lord, + All revolution will dispel as air + Before your eye. Our Cordiaz is great, + But his familiar subjects are too near + To take his height, while you they know to be + Of giant measure; and when once they see + Your majesties are brothered, Cordiaz + Will grow your twin in stature. + + _Hud._ You've our word. + + _Meg._ I treasure it,--and lest repeated thanks + Stale their sincerity. I beg to say + Good-night. + + _Hud._ You have our leave. Good-night, my lord. + + [_Megario bows impressively to Hudibrand, slightly to Borduc, and is + passing out when Hernda, who has crossed right, intercepts him_] + + _Her._ You leave us early, Lord Megario. + + _Meg._ I do not leave, your Highness. I am driven. + I go to drudgery with my secretaries, + Foregoing even the sleep that might have brought + Your dreamèd face to me. + + _Her._ Is 't still your wish + To meet our Spanish guest? + + _Meg._ He grants me that? + + _Her._ He has refused a meeting. + + _Meg._ Ah!... Refused. + + _Her._ But there's a way, my lord. When you have passed + The second door without, turn to the left. + You'll find a vaulted passage,--at the end + An entrance to my wood. Come in, and wait. + + _Meg._ You grace me so? + + _Her._ It is not grace that breaks + The covenant of salt. But who keeps faith + With traitors? He is one, by every sign. + An evil thing blown to our royal hearth + Through Chartrien's open love that lets all winds + Pour in. And I'll have proof of it! + + _Meg._ [_Over her hand_] You shall. [_Exit, lower right_] + + _Cha._ [_Crossing to Hernda_] A long-spun courtesy, and with one merit,-- + It ended in good-night. + + _Her._ [_Gayly_] Unruly yet? + A truce until to-morrow! + + _Cha._ You believe me? + + _Her._ I would not doubt you for a world compact + Of virtues only, but it's no unreason + To fear you are deceived. + + _Cha._ Dear Hernda---- + + _Her._ Come! + I love you, Chartrien. Let us have an hour + As light as joy, as sweet as peace, and call + Your friend to share it. He shall smile for me. + I vow it, by his most ungentle frown! + + _Cha._ 'Twill take your deepest magic, for his heart + Holds naught that smiles are made of. + + _Her._ Bring him here. + I'll make that heart my wizard bowl and mix + Such sweet and merry potions in 't, his griefs + Must doff their gray for motley. You shall see! + + _Cha._ Art such a witch? [_Exit, upper left_] + + _Her._ What's this I do? My soul + Leans shameward, but I'll trounce it up. The man, + If innocent, keeps so, untouched and clear. + If he aims darkly, creeps a weaponed hate + Upon my noble father, do I worse + Than cancel so the unwrought half of 's crime, + And make him less a villain? + + _Bor._ May I speak + Against this southward jaunt? + + _Hud._ Loud as you please, + My Bordy, but I go. + + _Bor._ Your Highness makes + Assaria bow too low. + + _Hud._ The State shall have + No name in this. I go as Cordiaz' friend, + Not as Assaria's king. I've interests there + That sort with quiet venture. Give it out + This move in part concerns my health. + + _Bor._ That much + I welcome. You should rest, my lord. + + _Hud._ Ha? Rest? + The twin of death! I'll rest when I am dust. + Nay, then I hope that storm and hurricane + Will keep me whirling. No,--I'll not go lame + Even in report. Say that this move concerns + My pleasure solely,--solely, Borduc. + + _Her._ Father, + I have a suit. May I not go with you? + I long to make that land where you are loved, + More vivid than the dream that now it is. + + _Hud._ And find what lodestar there draws Chartrien + From constancy? Well, you shall go. + + _Bor._ Tut, tut! + + _Her._ Dear father! + + _Hud._ This will give domestic screen + And color to our tack. + + _Bor._ A gadding throne-- + + _Hud._ Good Borduc, we will leave the throne at home. + Do not _you_ stay? + + _Bor._ I've some authority, + You'll not dispute, my lord. Much as may go + With broad election. My investiture + Lies in the people's choice. + + _Hud._ Ay, you're their bark + Of freedom, where their pride may hoist full sail, + But who wots better, Bordy, that 'tis puffed + With winds that know my port? + + _Bor._ They think their choice + Is free. Sincere in that, they give my post + A dignity not even your majesty + May mock me out of. + + _Hud._ Fools are noted most + For their sincerity,--a virtue that + Must stand a cipher if uncertified + By wit or wisdom. + + _Bor._ Sir, Assarians + Are not the fools you think them. They are men + Who have the patriot's heart, and on their flag + Where you write "power" their love reads "liberty." + + _Hud._ It does, praise be! And they may keep their flag + To wear around their eyes long as they will. + For then I dance my measure, while they bump + In hither-whither hoodman blind and pay + My fiddler too! + + _Bor._ And what's my part in this? + + _Hud._ The fiddler's, Borduc. + + _Bor._ Sir? + + _Hud._ And your next tune + Is Goldusan. Come, let's rehearse. + + _Bor._ My lord,---- + + [_Exeunt, lower right, as Chartrien and LeVal enter left_] + + _Her._ You've come, dear Señor! Was it savagery + To wrest the hour from you? + + _LeV._ Too kindly done + For such a name,--though I was deep in bond + To sober thoughts, your Highness. + + _Her._ Be so still. + We would not force our humor on your heart, + But share your own. + + _LeV._ [_Smiling_] Can you be sad? + + _Her._ As rains + That drench October. As the gray + That fringes twilight on the dark of moons. + As seas that sob above a swallowed ship, + Repenting storm. [_Leads to seat, right_] + Come, sir,--and I'll be sad + In what degree you choose, though I could wish it + Nearer a smile than rheum, and not so heavy + But that its sigh may float upon a song, + A gentle song that might be sorrow's garland + When moan wears down. Wilt hear one now, my lord? + I have a music-maker yon whose lute + Was nectared in a poet's tears the hour + He lost his dream. Say you will hear him! Nay, + That courtier "yes" can not o'ertake the "no" + Sped from your eyes. We'll have no music. Yet + The soul must love it ere one can be sad + To th' very sweet of sadness. O, I know! + + _LeV._ I love it, but not here. + + _Her._ What here forbids? + My bower! The eye translates its tenderness + To fairy sound, nor need of pipe or strings. + + _LeV._ I can not hear the bells of fairydom + When life is making thunder's music 'gainst + This bauble house of play---- + + _Her._ [_Rising_] Sir, you forget---- + + _LeV._ Nay, I remember! + + _Her._ What do you remember? + + _LeV._ Ah!... Pardon, princess! + + _Cha._ May I mend this peace? + + _Her._ [_Sitting again by LeVal_] It is not broken yet. + + _LeV._ Your gentleness + Has saved it, not my manners. + + _Her._ Oh, my lord, + Would I had grace to cover sorrow's breach + As smoothly as a gap in courtesy! + Then you should smile! + + _LeV._ I have a happiness + That makes it thievery in me to take + Your pity. You've a sadder need. + + _Her._ I'll yield + No jocund vantage to that brow of yours. + You hear this sombre braggart, Chartrien? + Speaks as I were Despair's own fosterling! + + _LeV._ You are. As I am Hope's. Do you not gaze + On earth's foul spots and cry "A sad world this!" + "We must endure!" "The dear God wills it so!" + And such and such like seed of misery + Till hopelessness sprouts chronic?--building then + Your house of life amid its smelling weeds, + Where you may dance--or pray--till you forget + Your creed keeps earth in tears? + + _Her._ And yours, my lord? + + _LeV._ Gives her a singing and forefeeling heart + Whose courage cleaves renunciation's cloud + That swathes her splendor and would sighing keep + Her livid 'mong the stars! + + _Her._ You would divide + Omnipotence with God, and arrogant, + Assume the bigger half. But there are woes + That even your hope, though it go winged and armored, + Must fall before. + + _LeV._ Not one that I'll not face + Until its features mould me destiny. + The shape of radiance it shall wear for man + 'Neath an unslandered Heaven! I could not live + If in the life about me I saw not + The world within this world, and sped my hope + The way that it shall take. + + _Her._ Is not that way + Called Peace, Emilio? + + _LeV._ Not the peace that spills + More blood than war, builds bigger jails, and leaves + More waifs to suck the stunting, poisonous breast + Of Charity! Peace as white ashes spread + Upon injustice' fly-blown wrack---- + + _Her._ [_Leaving him_] You are + A revolutionist! + + _LeV._ And black to you, + For revolution leads into the horizon, + And must be figured dark to rearward eyes + Though God beyond gives welcome. + + _Her._ [_Coming gently back_] May we not + Be patient even as Christ, who found this world + The home of poverty and left it so? + Did he not say the poor are ever with us? + + _LeV._ You too must tap that last and golden nail + In th' pauper's coffin! + + _Her._ It is the nail of truth, + If Christ spoke true. + + _LeV._ Words uttered to his day, + Not to all time. Not as a deathless brand + Burning his own millennium. Not meant + To take from man his goal, condemning him + To hug an ulcer to the sick world's end, + Which even your bosom must take to whitest bed + Although your festrous partner be not guessed + Nor visible. But if he did mean that---- + That vicious thing--then he is false as hell, + Denying man's bright destiny,--and I, + Who vouch the triumph of an angel race, + Am more a god than he! + + _Her._ You dare blaspheme---- + + _LeV._ Because it once was said to men, whom worms + Made dust of twice ten hundred years ago, + "The poor are always with you," such as you + Shall not forever pick your way to ease + O'er broken bodies, lifting up white brows + And hiding crimson feet! Daring to make + The Christ your sheltering sanction while you feed + On others' lives, and keep injustice sleek + Even as you cosset that dim thing, your soul, + And preen the wings you think bear you aloft + The puddled world! + + _Her._ You lie! You do not know + Our gentle hearts, our---- + + _LeV._ Gentle? O, you're nice, + You later cannibals, and will not eat + Of babes at table, but you'll pipe their blood + From unoffending distance, while you pray + Your conscience numb and swear the source is clean. + Some dare to name that fount the Love of God, + And kneel him thanks! + + _Her._ Oh, mad and impious! + Who is this, Chartrien, you've dared call your friend? + + [_Megario steps from the grove_] + + _Meg._ He's dumb as prudence, but my tongue is free. + This is Rejan LeVal, the man who hates + Your father,--and my country's enemy. + + _LeV._ [_Plunging toward Megario_] Murderer! + + _Cha._ [_Grasping LeVal_] Come! At once! + + _Meg._ Your pardon, prince. + I must delay you. I feared your sympathy + Would gird itself 'gainst justice, and took care + To balk escape. [_To officer who appears behind him_] + Be off with him. You know + Your road. No stop this side Peonia's border. + + _Cha._ Outlawry this! Stop, sir! You will not dare + Kidnap him on this soil! + + _Meg._ [_Laughs_] Where Hudibrand + Is king? + + [_Exit officer with LeVal, lower right_] + + _Her._ This strains your privilege, my lord. + + _Cha._ His privilege? My God! Did you.... + + _Her._ I did. + + _Meg._ No third voice here is cordant. I will leave you. + My thousand times most gracious lady, thanks! + Again I bid you happiest good-night! [_Exit_] + + _Her._ I am no adder, though your bitter eyes + Give me that name. + + _Cha._ Not bitter. In my heart, + That wrapped you as the South its dearest bud, + There's nothing left to warm the thought of you + Even with my hate. You are the crown, the peak, + The unmeaning top of all to which I'm most + Indifferent. [_Turns away_] + + _Her._ Look at me! + + _Cha._ I look, and know + My eyes till now were cankered, look and see + The whole fair lie you are. + + _Her._ Nay, Chartrien! + + _Cha._ The book is open. There the brow yet shines + As God o'erlilied it,--an altar urn + Stuffed with profane decay. Those are the eyes + Like springs within a wood where no road leads + With murking pilgrim dust, yet Innocence + There paused looks up no more. That is the hand + That as a comrade angel's took my friend's,-- + Reached out as though it parted Heaven's veil + To draw his grief within, then clapped him down + To Hell. + + _Her._ The place for traitors. Let him go. + This moment is for us. 'Tis true your eyes + Were cankered, and I thought by surgeon means + To give them health, but deeper than the eyes + This trouble's seat. Deep as your changèd soul, + That forfeits its divinity to link + With an infection. Here you stood and heard + Those poured-out profanations with no move + Or sound of protest. That was left for me. + + _Cha._ What truth may pierce such ignorance, fatuous, thick! + That man,--Megario,--with whom you've struck + Alliant palm, twisted a lawless law + To his deformed desire, and took the lands-- + The priceless valley lands of Cana Ru-- + From gentle dwellers there, whose titles bore + The rooted claim of dear ancestral graves + Nine generations deep,--and when they stood + The guardians of their doors, faced them with guns, + Dragged them to his bribed courts, weighed them with fines, + And sent them to his burning maguey fields + To slave and rot. + + _Her._ No--don't---- + + _Cha._ The lands were sold + To Hudibrand---- + + _Her._ It can not be! + + _Cha._ Not be? + That cry is stale as ignorance, as old + As wrong. I've heard it till my ears refuse + To register its emptiness. LeVal, + It was, rose first against Megario,-- + Stood up and urged men to be Man,--and this, + That makes archangels in the ranks of Heaven, + Was treason upon earth. He lived--escaped-- + But not his wife. Anointed woman, such + As centuries with conjoined virtues breed + Once and no more! She was condemned, enslaved, + And toiling in the steaming fields, fell down, + Was flogged, and died. + + _Her._ No! no! no! no! + + _Cha._ So she + Is free. But now LeVal goes back. My friend! + O, giant heart! I see you stagger, drop, + As feverous as the smitten earth---- + + _Her._ Who could + Believe such things? You're wrong! You must--you shall + Be wrong! He was a traitor, bitter-souled. + Undoing my father's work! + + _Cha._ Farewell! + + _Her._ Oh, Chartrien, + I did it for the best! + + _Cha._ The woman's cry. + She'd wreck a world, and from that earthquake piled + Look up to say she did it for the best. + + _Her._ You will not go? You loved me one hour past. + I am not changed. I'm Hernda still. + + _Cha._ The same. + And yet I loved you. But no blush need burn + The soul escaped enchantment. 'Twas a charm + Enringed me with its bale till helpless there, + And feeble as a babe in bassinet, + I cooed away my manhood,--emptied time + With infant fingering toward your protean hair! + + _Her._ You _loved_ me! + + _Cha._ More than ever could be laid + To madness' charge, or god that passion whelms + With mortal longing till his skies become + His prison, and dark earth Elysian ground + Beneath the feet he loves! + + _Her._ [_With arms beseeching_] Here, Chartrien, here! + + _Cha._ Even when my eyes--so late--were wide to wrong + That binds the race to pain's dread Caucasus, + My mad imagination laid the gift + Of seership on you, dreamed that you would go + To meet the gleam of the delivering days,---- + + _Her._ With you! + + _Cha._ Sail any sea of venture, beat + Through any storm to make the prophet's port,-- + White priestess vassal to the truth that leads + The planet into light! + + _Her._ Together, Chartrien! + + _Cha._ That was my dream. Then coming to your side. + There was no life but yours,--no world that bled + And felt the vulture feeding. Groans of men + Grew still, or like the unavailing hum + Of far-off, aimless bees, scarce reached my ears + That heard, more near, as music from new earth, + Your children call me father. Ay, 'twas but + The storming undersea of passioning sex + That breaking to the sky o'erlaid my stars + And wore the mask of Heaven! That ebbless power, + That spawning tide of Nature, by whose might + She took primordial forts and made Life hers! + Still does it tear belated, unassuaged, + In wreck about the Mind's aspiring fanes. + And shakes the nesting Spirit from her towers, + Her heavenly brood unfledged! + + _Her._ Oh! Oh! + + _Cha._ Here--now-- + I beat it back, and go my way unmated + Till beauty fair as yours has bred a soul + And signals me! [_Exit_] + + _Her._ Stay, Chartrien! Oh, my love! + + [_Falls. Curtain_] + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE: _A grove in the outskirts of a town in Goldusan. Semi-tropical +verdure. Rocks, shrubbery, trees, at convenience. A hidden cascade +mumbles upper right, not loud enough to disturb conversation. At upper +left, the pillared and vine-wreathed entrance to a mansion. A wall, +rear, partly hidden by foliage. Paths lead off, right and left, lower, +under trees. It is evening, and the grove is lit for revel. Gay flocks +of people pass, then Hernda and Megario enter lower right._ + + + _Meg._ Unsoft as winter! Thou hast brought thy north, + With thee, a frigid shade, here where the hours + Are poppy-fingered, and their dreaming breasts + Unshuttered as the summer! + + _Her._ Is it true, + This joy, that smiles as though its fountained heart + Could not be emptied? + + _Meg._ True as that I love you. + + _Her._ But if it is no mask, why should revolt + O'ercloud your borders? + + _Meg._ There's no just revolt. + + _Her._ But Chartrien said---- + + _Meg._ Are you yet poison-tinct + With that old rebel tale his credulous heart + Dressed new in his while honor till both grew + One sooty treason? + + _Her._ Where is Chartrien now? + + _Meg._ Wherever he may hatch a discontent + And cluck us trouble. But of late he spurs + His heart of venture, and dartles to our towns + To stir the scum there. + + _Her._ Scum? You've such a thing + In Cordiaz' happy land? I'll see that scum. + It breathes, does 't not? Has eyes, and tongue? + Can answer if one speaks? + + _Meg._ You're merry, princess. + + _Her._ As graves at night. All is not open here. + I shall go farther,--knock at doors where Truth + Keeps honest house, not gowned for holiday. + + _Meg._ One want we have,--that you will stay with us + And be the fairy soul of Goldusan. + Then must our land, so measureless endeared, + Be cherished as the darling care of Heaven, + Where storm may breathe but as a twittering bird + That fears to shake its nest. + + _Her._ You've only words! + Words like these thousand-thousand smiles that seem + Half real and half painted,--teasing, strange,-- + All feeding one illusion round my way + Till even the ground unqualifies beneath me + And makes each step a question. + + _Meg._ 'Tis the doubt + You look through that transforms our face + Of truth and paints us vaguely hued. + O, for our many smiles, wilt not give one? + + _Her._ Nay, there's a darkness fringing on this grove. + It creeps above the walls, it touches me, + And makes me shudder winding at my feet! + + _Meg._ You've sipped of fancy at a witch's knee! [_Plucks a flower_] + But see,--your serpent shadows nurture this. + Confess to its perfection, and be shriven + Of any thought less fair. + + _Her._ Oh, if I might! + No, keep it. Let us find our friends. + + _Meg._ [_Drops the flower_] My hand + Defiles it for you. + + _Her._ Nay---- + + _Meg._ Where is the fan + I carried yester-night? + + _Her._ 'Tis--lost. + + _Meg._ 'Tis burnt! + + _Her._ What wind's your gossip? + + _Meg._ Truth paused at my ear. + But, princess, if there's any charm will draw + Your eyes to me unburdened of their hate, + I'll find it though it lie beneath the ruin + Of every other hope! + + _Her._ I'll leave you, sir. + + _Meg._ Forgive me! Love will speak,--ay, storm its need. + Though each vain word pile up the barricade + That fends the heart desired. + + _Her._ My lord, no hate + Is in that barrier. I'm free of that. + + _Meg._ Thanks for that little much. Your highness speaks + Of journeying. What can I say to gild + My own Peonia till it distant gleams + The gem of pilgrimage? There you will see + How earth is dressed when the devoted sun + Is pledged to her adorning. Trees that mass + Their bloom in forest heavens, giving her + A nearer sky. Unthwarted vines that scarf + Her mountain shoulders with their pendent clouds. + Lakes where a dreamer's bark may drift unoared + And chance no port save beauty. Everywhere + The dart and wave of color that would beckon + A neighbor planet looking once this way. + Come, be my guest. One day! I'll ask no more. + + _Her._ I do not know. Señora Ziralay + Will be my guide. I go with her. + + _Meg._ With her? + + _Her._ What is 't? I touch the shadow. You are not + Her friend? + + _Meg._ She hates in secret, while her smile + Levies the world for love. + + _Her._ I'll hate where she does, + And know my soul is safe. + + _Meg._ Her husband holds + By love and purse to Cordiaz, but she + Is a LeVal. + + _Her._ LeVal? And kin to--_him_? + + _Meg._ Rejan? His sister. And I know her nature + Is tinted as her blood, whatever hue + It wears at court. + + _Her._ A sister to the man + That I gave up to death. And I have dared + To love her--take her kiss---- + + _Meg._ [_Cautioning_] She's here. + + [_Enter, lower right, Señora Ziralay and Guildamour_] + + _Her._ Señora! + We spoke of you. + + _Señ._ And with such gloom? + + _Meg._ No, no! + + _Señ._ It lingers yet, my lord. Do I in absence cast + Such knitted shadows? + + _Meg._ Safely asked of us, + Who know your bright philosophy. How fares + That magic broom with which you'd sweep the earth + Of every ill? Is 't still invincible? + + _Señ._ Much worn of late, my lord, as you should know, + Who give it work. + + _Meg._ You'd leave us not one grief + To keep us praying and rebuilding Heaven? + Abolish Death perhaps? + + _Señ._ True mock! I would + Except the death that's like a waiting bed + When not another turn may mend the day; + When sleep is sweeter than the thumbèd book, + And hearth-near voices drowse like waves that lap + Shores unconcerned. Now we are murdered, all. + + _Meg._ No, no. Señora! + + _Gui._ Ay! Do we not vaunt, + And set it rarely down, a thing to note, + If age unmoor the life-disusèd raft, + For th' chartless cruise? + + _Señ._ Now we go hurried out, + With half our dreams unpacked, and earth made poor + With a few grains of dust where should have risen + Our wisest years in flower. + + _Meg._ Fate, fate, Señora! + + _Señ._ What's fate but ignorance? And not always that + Comes hobbling with excuse. Sometimes a man, + Whose eyes fling lances at the foes of Life, + Is knouted from the world---- + + _Meg._ No more, I pray! + This is a festal night. Reserve your sermon + For our next fast. + + [_A musical group plays softly under trees left. Enter lower right, + Hudibrand, Cordiaz, Rubirez, Vardas, Ziralay and others_] + + _Hud._ Here, daughter? You've been sought. + + _Cor._ The search was mine, your highness. I would beg + A grace of you. + + _Her._ You grant one as you beg, + Your majesty. I'll not do less than give + Your own again. But pray you name it, sir. + + _Cor._ This garden where our amity has borne + Its fairest blossom shall be called henceforth + The Grove of Peace, and we would beg your highness + To queen our christening. + + _Her._ A queenly part, + And royally I thank you, but I'll play it + With humblest prayer that Heaven may keep unbroken + These new-sworn bonds between my land and yours. + + _Cor._ So pray we all. + + _Her._ Is this our scene? + + _Cor._ Not here. + Come you this way, my friends. We'll cast the wine + To yon cascade, and let the waters bear it + Down to my capital. + + [_All go off upper right, except two officers, who remain centre, and + a guard who walks to and fro by wall rear, sometimes visible, + sometimes hidden by the wood and rocks_] + + _First Off._ This peace will prove + As stout as any spider's thread that swings + In a blowing rain. Fah! + + _Second Off._ Climb what hill you please, + You see the rebels' smoke. + + _First Off._ But where in name + Of magic does Bolderez get his gold? + The rebels we pick up have lost no meals. + + _Second Off._ Enough he gets it. Goldusan sleeps well. + Bolderez is so near that if his men + Were eagles they could pick out Cordiaz' eyes + And he'd not wake to miss 'em. + + _First Off._ Cordiaz + Is not asleep, but so bedimmed and fooled + By a thievish Cabinet that what he sees + Takes any name they give it. + + _Second Off._ He is old. + + _First Off._ Ah, there you hit it. Warriors should die young. + When age unsoldiers them their field-worn hearts + Have no defence against a crafty peace, + And falling power will seize on any prop + Be 't foul or fair, to keep on legs. + + _Second Off._ My faith! + His crutches are so villanous, a fall + Were better than his gait. + + [_Enter Ziralay, lower right_] + + _First Off._ Well, Ziralay, + What news? + + _Zir._ Where's Cordiaz? + + _Second Off._ He comes. + + [_Re-enter group from the cascade_] + + _Zir._ [_To Cordiaz_] My lord, + The Assarian prince is captured, and is held + Within the town. + + _Cor._ What? Chartrien? + + _Zir._ Yes, my lord. + + _Cor._ Fit period to this dedicated day! + Our gentle bonds are now forged whole. The man + Who was Bolderez' hope, most luminous + Of all who drew rebellion to him, now + Is darkly fallen. + + _Rub._ This golden aid cut off, + Bolderez stands so bare his nakedness + Will sprint to nearest cover. + + _Cor._ I'll see his face. + Bring here the prisoner. + + _Off._ I'll speed the order, + Your majesty. [_Exit_] + + _Rub._ Shall he be shot, my lord? + + _Cor._ Shot? No. But kept close prisoned. + + _Rub._ That is mercy + You have denied the blood of Goldusan. + Why grant it to Assaria? + + _Var._ In him swells + A strength was never in LeVal. I urge + His instant death. + + _Cor._ No, friends. He is a son + Of our great neighbor, and his death would wound + The courtesy of nations that is kept + By lenience unabraded. + + _Var._ Breath so bold + Will from a prison fan the treachery + Whose flame would die without it. + + _Her._ Father, speak! + + _Cor._ We'll hear our friend, Assaria's majesty, + If he have word for us. + + _Hud._ I pray your highness + To let no ghostly and unfounded fear + Of my Assaria---- + + _Cor._ Fear, my lord? + + _Hud._ I mean + No more than ask you to be just, nor let + My presence here enforce your chivalry + To do your country wrong. Think of your people, + Not the approval of a gazing land + Whose distant nod is given in ignorance + Of your stern cause. + + _Her._ Here's not my father! So + The clock runs backward, and time ends. + + _Meg._ [_To Cordiaz_] Your highness, + My voice is not so loud as others here, + But could I send it far as sound may go, + It should take mercy's part in this debate. + + _Var._ You need no trump, my lord. A limpet's whistle + Would tell us where you stand. + + _Meg._ I stand with Cordiaz, + His majesty of Goldusan! + + _Cor._ This matter + Is not for open market. Come, my friends, + Let us go in. Please you to walk before. + + [_Rubirez, Ziralay, Vardas, and Megario enter the house, upper left. + Their majesties linger at entrance. Guildamour retreats on path, + upper right. Officers go off, lower left. Hernda and Señora + Ziralay wait unnoticed, right_] + + _Cor._ Is 't kindly done, my lord, to pose your station + In public against mine? + + _Hud._ My neutral words + You've packed with import all your own. I strive + To bend not right or left, but keep my way + As even as Justice. + + _Her._ [_To Señora_] Justice! There's a stone + That was my father. + + _Cor._ Yet, my lord, this prince + Is of your house. + + _Hud._ Is it for Cordiaz + To teach me mercy? + + _Cor._ By my soul! + + _Hud._ I know + Whence starts this softness. Mercy has no fane + Where you leave offering. + + _Cor._ I know you too! + By holy Heaven, your head was never bared + In Justice' temple! You now seek my fall, + Because I've turned at last to check the hand + That rifles Goldusan. Is 't not enough + That I've unjewelled all her treasured hills + To alien avarice--that her forests bleed + The priceless sap of all primeval Springs + Into your golden stream? But I must lay + My people under bond,--sell them as slaves + To buy your stolen railways! + + _Hud._ Stolen, sir? + I've paid---- + + _Cor._ I know what you have paid! You've sent + Your henchmen creeping in the night, to buy + At beggar's price our toil-built roads, and where + You could not buy, you bribed and thieved, till all + Was yours! + + _Hud._ What of _my_ toil, that built the lines + Through half your provinces? + + _Cor._ You paid yourself! + Took from my governors, half gulls, half thieves + Of your own breed, a hundred times the worth + Of every graded foot, in lands and mines + And water-power that holds the prisoned light + Of robbed futurity! Now we must buy + Once more those tracks, long over-bought,--pay you + A value centuple for every mile,-- + Pay you in bonds--bonds in hell's verity-- + Whose interest will outrun each reckoned year + The summed returns from our fool's purchase! No! + That is my word while I am Goldusan! + + _Hud._ You wake too late. I'll tell you so, my lord, + Since this imprudent burst thrusts courtesy + From court. Your ministers have given assent---- + + _Cor._ Have _given_! You'll over-steal enough + To quit their boldest price! + + _Hud._ I'll not defend + Your chosen servants, sir. + + _Cor._ _My_ servants! Oh, + What State is free from scuttling greed that bores + For treasure through the stanchest hold? + + _Hud._ This moral chant comes late from you, my lord, + Who've fingered heavily in many a pie + Spiced in the devil's kitchen. + + _Cor._ But to sell + My people! Pay you this devouring price + For stock that hardy yields the groaning third + Of interest on your bonds! What shall we do + To pay it? Rob our treasury, and ask + Our worn-out slaves to fill it up again? + Not ask, but goad and lash,--for you must have + Your own--you honest mortgagees of babes + Unborn---- + + _Hud._ Is all the scarlet on our hands? + What of that mountain province, sold entire + To foreign pockets, and the dwellers there + Torn up like shrieking roots and cast abroad + To fasten where they could? + + _Cor._ And where was that + But in your hell-mouthed mines? You wanted slaves + And got them. + + _Her._ I shall die, Señora! + + _Señ._ Listen! + + _Hud._ The tyrant Cordiaz grown pitiful? + Then stones are butter, alabaster is + Uncrumpled down. You should have wept before + The Pueblo strike, then fewer corpses had + Gone out to sea. + + _Cor._ Don't name that thing to me! + Don't speak of it! I will not bear that curse! + + _Hud._ Mine aged convert, lies it in your will, + Or juster Heaven's? + + _Cor._ 'Twas your property + My troops defended--and Rubirez lied. + Swore that the men foamed mad as tuskèd beasts, + And must be trashed to place,--men who had asked + No more than bread when you shut up your doors---- + + _Hud._ Not I, my friend. + + _Cor._ Your tool then. One of all + Your million hookèd hands fast in the heart + Of my poor country, shut your doors, thereby + To starve the wretches till they crawled to you + And begged their chains again. But they--their veins + Were not all tapped--they'd blood left, and arose + From their dumb prayers to _fight_ for life--and then.... + + _Hud._ You sent the troops. + + _Cor._ Because Rubirez lied! + + _Hud._ Because you knew there'd be no after-sale + For your high favors, once let titles drift + Unguaranteed. And when your work was done-- + _Your_ work, my tear-washed saint, why weary patience + Could not take further time to count the dead, + Or dig so many graves. They were piled up + And carted to the sea---- + + _Cor._ Oh, every tide + Brings back their faces--staring, staring up! + Will God not answer them? I dare not shut + My eyes.... + + _Hud._ And this is why you weep so late? + Come, Cordiaz, you're broken. Leave a throne + Your own fears shake. You know that I must win. + Own you are mastered---- + + _Cor._ Mastered! While I've breath + I am a king. If I win peace of God, + And his white angel let my dark soul out, + 'Twill be for this--the last throe of my strength + Was spent against you! + + _Hud._ Madly you've uncased + Your madness, and I know my weapons. + + _Cor._ So! + I too, my lord, know how to sleep and wake + With hand on steel. + + _Hud._ Then is there more to say? + + _Cor._ All's said. We're waited for. Assaria, + Will 't please you enter? + + _Hud._ I thank you, Goldusan. [_They go in_] + + _Her._ Don't comfort me, Señora. Not a breath. + I'll not disfigure shame with comfort's patch, + But droop as low as leprous dust, and take + Some pride in that. 'Tis dark here, dark. Pray God + I am asleep! + + _Señ._ Dear princess! + + _Her._ Men do well + To keep the women blind. If once they knew, + They'd breed no more, but let a bairnless world + Escheat to God. Yet you, Señora, knew, + And you have children. By your motherhood + You've bound you Life's accomplice,--given it heart + And veins and an accepting soul! + + _Señ._ I have! + Deny our hearts these babes, and we deny + The future that we fight for. Ah, defeat + May be endured by those who hold in lap + The victors of to-morrow! + + _Her._ Oh, my father! + + _Señ._ This truth was edged and swift. You should have had + Love's lips to teach you---- + + _Her._ I've been taught, my friend, + But would not learn. [_Rising_] Señora, it was I + Betrayed your brother! + + _Señ._ Yes.... I know. + + _Her._ To death! + You do not understand. I killed him! + + _Señ._ No. + There, love,--forget a little. I've a hope + He is not dead. + + _Her._ Not dead? What gives you hope? + + _Señ._ Perhaps the nameless mentor in the heart + That tells us when our loved shrines are lit + And when they're out forever. But there's more. + Whenever Lord Megario's eye meets mine + There's something couched there speaks me living wrong, + Not wrong that's ended--locked within a grave + No prayer may open. He is burning yet + With uncompleted vengeance--and its shame. + + _Her._ Señora, you've a plan! + + _Señ._ 'Twill take much gold. + + _Her._ Ah, I have that. + + _Señ._ And courage. + + _Her._ Well! + + _Señ._ Such as, + We're told, no woman has. + + _Her._ Here is my life, + And any Fate may have it that will make + Your brother live. Will you forgive me then? + + _Señ._ [_Kissing her_] Ah, dear, you could not know.... + + _Her._ How did you hear? + + _Señ._ From Chartrien. + + _Her._ You are friends? + + _Señ._ So true he seems + Not friend but friendship to my soul. And I + Talk here, while yonder he---- + + _Her._ They dare not! No! + My father would.... My father? Oh, Señora! [_Sobs hopelessly_] + + _Señ._ We'll find a door to this. + + _Her._ Would Ziralay + Not help? + + _Señ._ Had he the wit, he would not dare. + While I'm his wife he must keep double guard + Against suspicion. + + _Her._ Oh! + + _Señ._ If there's one true, + 'Tis Guildamour. I'll go to him. + + _Her._ At once! + He took that path. + + _Señ._ I know what shade he seeks + When he would brood. + + [_Exit Señora, upper right. Hernda waits drooping, as if too weary for + thought. A group of ladies and gentlemen enter, lower right, among + them Guildamour_] + + _Her._ [_Starting up_] Oh!--Guildamour! + + _Gui._ Your highness! + + [_Leaves his party chattering lower left, and crosses to Hernda_] + + _Her._ Señora seeks you. + + _Gui._ Ah, about the prince? + + _Her._ We have a hope, my lord, your hand may turn + Some stone of rescue. + + _Gui._ Mine are powerless hands, + Pinned to inaction's cross. My eyes may turn + No way that is not watched. To lift my lids + May raise a cry of "Treason!" + + _Her._ There's no help? + In all this land no help? + + _Gui._ Megario, + Could he be softened to it, is the man + Who might with safety slip a secret bolt + For Chartrien. + + _Her._ He! + + _Gui._ His name is set above + The nick of treason by his stern dispatch + Of poor LeVal,--and, that struck off, he yet + Is chronicled so dark that none would lay + A fair deed at his door. + + _Her._ Megario! + + _Gui._ I would not name him, but I know he loves you, + And there's no soul that love may not endue + With tinge of Heaven. + + [_Re-enter Señora_] + + _Her._ Señora! + + _Señ._ [_Panting_] I have seen him! + + _Gui._ The prince? + + _Her._ Not Chartrien? + + _Señ._ Yes! + + _Gui._ Escaped? + + _Señ._ The guards + Were of our heart--they let him make the wood-- + I've hidden him---- + + _Her._ Oh, where? + + _Señ._ Within the cave + Veiled by the waterfall. But safety there + Is minute-frail. + + _Gui._ What way? He'll climb the wall? + + _Señ._ And drop into the river. + + _Gui._ Yes. What guard + Walks there? I see. 'Tis Miguel. And I know + Somewhat of him,--more than he'd tell the winds. + + _Señ._ Thank Heaven for a sinner! When he's next + Behind the rocks, then to him, Guildamour, + And be his palsying conscience. Peg his feet + To the earth! + + _Gui._ Trust me, Señora! + + _Señ._ I'll lead off + Those babblers. Princess, you're the watch,--you'll give + The signal. + + _Her._ Ah! What is 't? + + _Señ._ Two pebbles dashed + Into the water is our sign. + + _Her._ The guard! + He's gone! + + _Gui._ It is our time. [_Exit into wood, rear_] + + _Her._ [_As the talkative group move up_] Take them away, + Señora! It would kill me now to meet + A painted smile. + + _Señ._ I'll go. And you--be swift. + Don't stop--don't think. [_Joins group_] + I know where lordings three + Wait for as many maids. + + _A young lady._ You saw them pass? + + _Señ._ Disconsolate. + + _Young Lady._ O, to the river! + + _Another._ Come! + + [_They go off with Señora, lower left_] + + _Her._ Now! [_Takes up two stones. Ziralay and Megario come out of + the house_] Oh! [_She drops the stones. They cross to her_] + + _Meg._ You wait? + + _Her._ I read the sentence. + + _Zir._ Death. + + _Her._ And when? + + _Zir._ To-night. They've given Vardas charge + Of 't. He's an eager butcher,--does not know + Delay. + + _Her._ You wished his death. + + _Zir._ I voted no. + Megario laid my doubts. + + _Her._ Did he do that? + + _Zir._ He countered to their teeth. + + _Her._ [_To Megario_] So merciful + Is hate? + + _Meg._ The prince's death would mean the fall + Of Cordiaz, and our houses rock with his. + + _Her._ Be clearer, pray you. + + _Meg._ Vardas wants the throne, + And we've a sour and guilty faction here + Who'd see him on it, but they dare not move + Against a king yet rich in arms and friends. + And Hudibrand is not so absolute + That he may turn the army of Assaria + On the sole pivot of his word. For that, + Even he must knock the sleeping nation up + And ask good leave. + + _Her._ You'd say, sir, Hudibrand + Would favor Vardas? + + _Zir._ Short and plain, he does. + + _Her._ What then? + + _Meg._ The Assarians are proud, and where + They think their honor's pricked, their pride out-tops + Their judgment. Chartrien's death, whose ugly weight + Must lie with Cordiaz, will inflame their hearts + Till Hudibrand may send an army on us, + His people clapping to 't. In open day + They'll choose the road his cunning cut by night, + And pray him take it. + + _Zir._ Ay, and where are we, + With Vardas crowned in Goldusan? + + _Her._ I see. + + _Meg._ He'd like my million acres in Peonia + Sliced for his foreign hounds! + + [_Enter an officer_] + + _Zir._ What trouble now? + + _Off._ Prince Chartrien has escaped. + + _Meg._ And you in charge? + + _Off._ I sent him with good men, or so I thought, + Being pressed to another way---- + + _Meg._ His guards,--what name? + + _Off._ Vinaldo, and a sergeant, who---- + + _Meg._ Vinaldo! + He's on the blue list, turning fast to black. + Did you not know it? + + _Off._ I held him, sir, the pick + Of loyalty. + + _Meg._ Well,--on. What else? + + _Off._ They reached + The grove, passed in, and after prudent time, + The guards came out, smug as all right, and now + They're gone,--clear foot,--will doff you from the hills. + + _Meg._ A tale for Vardas! You may save your beard, + But not your neck. + + _Off._ I'll not shake yet. The prince + Is in the grove. We'll soon uncover him. + + _Zir._ The walls are picketed? + + _Off._ A double watch + Is on. + + _Zir._ That's well enough. + + _Off._ On chance he makes + The wall, I've reinforced the river guard. + + _Meg._ Both sides? + + _Off._ A close patrol, both east and west. + Though he had fishes' gills and dived the stream, + He'd not get by. That way is fast against him + As Belam's iron door. + + _Meg._ [_To Hernda_] You're ill? + + _Her._ No, no! + I'm well--quite well. + + _Meg._ The lily in your cheek + Lies not so bravely. + + _Off._ [_To Ziralay_] If he gets out of this, + He'll steer around the moon. We'll find him, sir. + But he's most darkly hid. Has made a coat + Of leaves and plays the grouse trick on us. + + _Zir._ Come! + His majesty must know. [_Ziralay and officer go into house_] + + _Meg._ How may I help you? Let the service be + Of such poor nature as your dog might give, + And pride will whistle to it. + + _Her._ O, my lord, + I half believe you. When our angels fall, + Then devils are not black. And I have lost + My father. + + _Meg._ Devils! You've a tongue. + + _Her._ Forgive + A heart unmantled, and too wild to choose + What word may veil it. I would say, my lord, + In this discolored world I now begin + To find you fair,---- + + _Meg._ O, heavenly retraction! + + _Her._ And if I ask a service it will be + No paltry one, but such as makes the king + Bow to the knight. + + _Meg._ I'll prove this grace + Is native in me, and not solely lent + Of your new bounty! + + _Her._ Would you save the life + Of Chartrien? + + _Meg._ I would. Though a treasonous tool + Of rebelry, he should be held by me + A prisoner of knightliest war. + + _Her._ A prisoner! + + _Meg._ You can not ask his freedom! That would give + My foes clear argument to pluck me bare, + And set me outlawed on the rebel side + Of this deplored division. + + _Her._ Oh, not free! + And in your power! + + _Meg._ To hold him prisoner,--that + I'd undertake, and make the action good + Even to this bloody council. + + _Her._ You'd dare that? + + _Meg._ My policy is open, and I'd dare + To put it into deed that must commend me + To their unwilling justice. To do more + Would disarray all sense,--be fullest like + The idiot's gesture that disrobes the wretch + Of his last sanity. + + _Her._ Megario.... + + _Meg._ What secret is so dear these costly sighs, + Like gentle pickets ever reinforced, + Let it not pass? + + _Her._ A secret? No! + + _Meg._ But yes. + I push me by its fragile guardians, + And hear it beating in its citadel. + + _Her._ What says it then? + + _Meg._ You've seen the prince. + + _Her._ My lord! + + _Meg._ You know what shadow hides him. + + _Her._ No, no, no! + My oath, sir, I've not seen him! + + _Meg._ I would trust + One negative, not three. Give him to me, + And you will know he lives. Let him be found + By Vardas' men, and when you wake to-morrow + The earth will be without him. + + _Her._ No, not you! + I'll go to Cordiaz. He'll save the prince + As he would save his throne. You've taught me that. + + _Meg._ He'd lose it so. Should Cordiaz to-night + Set Chartrien free, he'd rise without a lord + To bid him one good-morrow. + + _Her._ Ziralay.... + + _Meg._ Ask him? An ass whose ears if visible + Would signal Mars! Say he had courage for you, + He'd blunder with the prince to Vardas' arms. + + _Her._ Ah, _you_ could do it,--set him free! + + _Meg._ Nay--don't-- + Don't ask it, if you've mercy! Your highness knows + I could not grant so much though lips I love + Above my soul should beg that treason of me. + Though they should take again those dearest words + That knighted me, and now lie in my heart + Like swelling seed of fortune! Let me shield + His life. In saintliest trust---- [_She shudders from him_] + You fear me so? + + _Her._ I do! I do! You took away LeVal, + And he no longer lives. + + _Meg._ He does! My oath, + He does! + + _Her._ You spared him? + + _Meg._ By my soul, he lives! + But let the word sleep in your vestal ear, + Until these smouldering troubles die to dust + And feed the grass above them. For the State + Believes LeVal is dead, nor taints me with + Such treacherous clemency. See how I lay + My safety and my honor in your hands? + I give them, hostages for Chartrien! + Ah, you should know how I will guard your trust, + For when I say to you he does not live, + Your eyes will slay the single, nurturing hope + Of my own life! + + _Her._ [_Battling_] I can not! I'm not Fate + To do her awesome work. + + _Meg._ We aid her most + With passive hand, as Chartrien's ghost will come + On mourning nights to tell you. + + _Her._ Oh, I'll speak!... + No, no! Ah, never, never! + + _Meg._ [_Resolute, giving up his suit_] I must join + The hunt. There's but one place--the cave---- + + _Her._ The cave! + + _Meg._ Those guards are fools--or shy of water. + + _Her._ Sir, + What cave? + + _Meg._ He's there. Your cold, uncandid calm + Has babbled it. The frost is crafty that + Puts out such anxious fire. + + _Her._ My lord, if I + Should tell you.... + + _Meg._ Quickly then! How canst debate + So fatally, knowing delay but robs him + Of venture's favor? Every moment steals + A bud of chance. + + _Her._ How will you take him out? + + _Meg._ I'll pass the gates unchallenged. Close without, + My car stands by,--a racer never spent, + And begs no pause. Know he is safe, and sleep. + Night will be secret, and we'll greet the sun + In my Peonia---- + + _Her._ Ah, Peonia's far! + + _Meg._ And Vardas near. + + _Her._ Take these two stones, my lord. + Cast them into the falls---- + + _Meg._ So! I was right! + But you must summon him. + + _Her._ So soon a tyrant? + + _Meg._ I'll take him from your hands,--no other way. + Your trust to me! And with my life I'll guard it! + For that you love him is my means to you. + Once in your heart, I'll win the throned place + Though all his saints defend it! + + _Her._ True, my friend, + We shall be nearer, for anxiety + Will draw me to you with a longing like + The aching letch for morning in the eyes + Pain keeps astare. You then will be the goal + Of fondest question,--and from that--who knows? + Out of unbroken faith, and kindly shafts + 'Tween hearts disponent, bridges have been built + For love's plenipotence to cross. + + _Meg._ You bid + Me hope? + + _Her._ I do not say despair. Sometimes + A presto-worker sits within the soul + Of gratitude, and love that must give thanks + In name of one beloved, has then been known + To pass from the liege object to the heart + Whose compass held them both in selfless bounds + Of chivalry. And yet--I promise nothing! + + _Meg._ I ask no promise but the one I find + In words that so deny it. Now the thought + Is born, I'll make the naked infant grow + Heir of my princely opportunity. + Go now. An instant may defeat us. Haste! + My purse must buy a guard. + [_Hernda goes off, upper right. Megario walks left and calls_] + Benito! Ho! + You and your fellow! + [_Enter two guards_] + I have work for you. + You've seen my gold before. Here's more of it. + Stand for my word. + + [_Hernda returns with Chartrien_] + + _Cha._ Gods give me time for one + Wild kiss! O, Heaven! To find and lose you in + One whirling breath! + + _Meg._ [_His pistol at aim_] You are my prisoner. + + [_Señora rushes on left_] + + _Señ._ Oh, princess! Oh! + + _Meg._ [_To guards_] Move on with him. + + _Her._ Wait--wait---- + + _Meg._ No time. + + _Her._ But I must tell---- + + _Cha._ Let fiends be dumb. + You damned and double traitress, this my hand + Could lay you dead! + + _Meg._ [_To Hernda, who seems dazed_] My goddess, I'll be true! + + [_Kisses her, and goes off, lower right, with Chartrien and + guards_] + + _Señ._ You let him kiss you! + + _Her._ Who? + + _Señ._ Megario. + + _Her._ I did not know it. I am dead, I think. + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE: _A yard, walled and spiked, of Megario's hacienda. A long, low +hut, the men's sleeping-quarters, at right. In upper centre, a smaller +hut which serves for kitchen and also as sleeping-room for several +women. On left, the yard continues, showing other huts used by families. +The entrance gate is off stage, left. An unused gate, locked and barred +in wall, right._ + +_Hernda, in the guise of a young Maya woman known as Famette, stirs a +pan of food which is heating on some coals in front of kitchen. Lissa +stands in door of hut watching her._ + + + _Lis._ [_Stepping out_] You mend, Famette. But when you came--all thumbs. + A woman grown and couldn't spoon up fish! + + _Fam._ It was the smell. How can they eat it, Lissa? + + _Lis._ You'll eat it too. + + _Fam._ That? Never! + + _Lis._ Another week + Will starve you to it. + + [_Ysobel comes out of kitchen bearing apron full of cups and spoons + which she places on ground_] + + _Yso._ [_Looking left_] Here's Masio in. [_Enters hut_] + + _Lis._ He's always first. + [_Masio comes up left_] How did my boy get on? + + _Mas._ I wasn't near him in the field. + + _Lis._ He did + His stint? + + _Mas._ I never heard. + + _Lis._ No eyes, no ears,-- + All belly, you! + + _Mas._ [_Taking up spoon and cup from the pile_] Fish! fish! + + _Lis._ Beans first. You know + The rules. + + _Mas._ I've teeth can break 'em. Fish, Famette! + [_Famette puts fish into his cup_] + There'll be a blessed cleaning-up to-night. + + _Lis._ More beating? Has the master come? + + _Mas._ [_Nods_] And on + The rounds. He'll clear the yards. News from the north + Has turned him red and black. + + _Fam._ A flogging? Oh, + If you were men you'd fight with your bare hands + Till you were free! + + _Mas._ Free as the dead. Our blood + Would soak the earth and make more hennequin,-- + That's all. + + _Fam._ Then run away. + + _Mas._ How far? The swamps? + To sleep with snakes--a week or less? + + _Fam._ Across + The ridges. + + _Mas._ Where the sun would lap you dry + As crackling cat-guts? Thirst would draw you in + To th' next hacienda well. The masters own + The water, and in this land, that's life. + + _Fam._ No chance? + They never get away? + + _Mas._ Sometimes a man + Makes Quito, but he soon comes back. + + _Fam._ Comes back? + + _Mas._ What else? In Quito there's no work. He starves. + And here--there's beans. So he gives up, and then + They send him back. + + _Fam._ And he is flogged? + + _Mas._ Ay, till + His bones crack. + + _Fam._ Oh! He bears it? + + _Mas._ Like a man, + My dear. + + _Fam._ The coward! + + _Mas._ So--back to the field, + Mute as a snail, and poorer too, for then + The dream is gone of any life but this. + + _Fam._ They have no spirit--none! + + _Mas._ Much as you'll have + This time next year. + + _Fam._ Next year? I shall be gone. + My debt was just ten pesos. + + _Mas._ [_Incredulous_] You were sold + For that? + + _Fam._ I'll work it out. + + _Mas._ Be 't ten or hundreds, + Who comes here stays. You'll soon know that, my bird, + And limber your fine neck. + + [_As they talk, men and women enter in groups of scores and dozens + until there are several hundred in the yard. They are mostly of + mixed blood, their color ranging from the full brown of the Maya + to the pale olive of the Peonian aristocrat. At a spout, upper + left, they wash their hands, then drop about wearily. One man + sits near Famette, his head sunk on his chest. She lays her hand + on his shoulder_] + + _Fam._ What, Garza, you? + Who were so blithe this morning, on your way + To freedom? + + _Garza._ [_Rocking_] Mother of God! Oh, Mother of God! + + _Fam._ What is it, Garza? + + _Mas._ There you have it! You see + Who comes here stays. + + _Fam._ But he was free! His friend + Brought twenty pesos to pay off his debt. + + _Gonzalo._ And when he went to pay it, on the books + There stood two hundred pesos against Garza. + + _Mas._ Two hundred--twenty,--you see, Famette, + How much a little "o" can do. + + _Fam._ They dare + Do that? I'll see the magistrate! [_The men stare at her_] + + _Mas._ [_Patting her shoulder_] Poor girl! + + _Fam._ I will! Why not? What is he for? + + _Gon._ What for? + To see we are well beaten when we ask + For justice. He must serve who pays him,--that's + The master. + + _Fam._ Oh, you worse than slaves! + + _Mas._ No names, + My proudling. Wait a year, then what you please. + + [_The men have been eating. Ysobel stands in door of hut holding a + great bowl of beans from which the peons fill their cups. Lissa + gives out the fish. Her boy, Iduso, crouches by her skirts_] + + _Lis._ [_To boy_] Not eat? Now you're a man? Twelve years to-day! + + _Fam._ [_Bending over Iduso_] Is 't fever, Lissa? + + _Lis._ [_With sullen jealousy_] Let him be, Famette. + What do you know? You've got no children. + + _Fam._ I've + A little brother. + + _Lis._ Brother! Nothing that. + + _Fam._ He's just Iduso's age. + + _Lis._ [_Softened_] And has to take + A man's work on him? + + _Fam._ N-o---- + + _Lis._ I said it now. + What do you know? Look at your hands--not stumps + Like mine. + + _Mas._ Who hugs the post to-night? + + _Gon._ I heard + Of seven warned. + + _Yso._ My man! He hasn't come! + + _Mas._ God's mercy, give us peace! It was his turn + To put away the knives. + + [_Ysobel leans against hut. Famette takes bowl from her_] + + _Lis._ There's seven, you say? + + _Ben._ None from this yard. Famette, you haven't seen + A flogging yet? + + _Fam._ And never will, you beast! + + _Ben._ Your never's short,--less than an hour. + + _Fam._ What do you mean? + + _Ben._ The whip draws blood to-night, + And we must all look on, for our soul's good. + It is the master's order. + + _Fam._ I'll not go! + + _Mas._ Why, God looks on, Famette, and so may we. + All Heaven sees it, and I'll pledge my--fish-- + That not an angel blanches. + + _Gon._ You should see + The master! + + _Fam._ _He_ is there? Does _he_ look on? + + _Mas._ O, not quite that. To eye the work + Would show too grossly, but you'll see him there,-- + Somewhat aside, leaning against a yew, + Most carefully at ease. Then he will light + A delicate cigar that fills the grove + With a fantastic odor, like, we'll say, + Faint musk that creeps on burning pine. + You will approve the quality, Famette. + That is his signal. + + _Fam._ Oh! + + _Mas._ Long as he puffs, + And soft, white rings twirl upward to the leaves, + The lashes fall. And when, grown gently weary, + As 'twere half accident, from his high thoughts + Remote, he clears the cindered tip--like this-- + The whip is still. + + _Fam._ Where, where am I? + + _Mas._ In hell, + Sweetheart. + + _Fam._ Who are you, Masio? You are not + As these that suffer speechless. + + _Mas._ Pinch the difference! + A little learning, and a few opinions + That brought me here. + + _Fam._ [_Moving aside with him_] What did you do? + + _Mas._ I spoke + The truth too near the ear of Cordiaz, + And there's no greater crime. + + _Fam._ You are a prisoner? + But you're not guarded. + + _Mas._ No, they leave me free, + In hope I'll run. Then they will shoot me down. + And you--what brought you here? Ten pesos + Could never buy you--nor a hundred either. + + _Fam._ I mean to lead these men to join Bolderez: + + _Mas._ What! Lead them out? + + _Fam._ And you will help me do it. + + _Mas._ Well, when I want to die. You're mad. + We're all + Sprats in a net. _You'll_ not get out, once let + The master see you. Better hide those eyes---- + + _Yso._ [_Running and catching Masio by the shoulder_] + You lied to me! You lied! They've got my Grija! + Down in the lower yard! + + _Grija._ [_Entering and making his way to her_] No! Here I am. + Safe in, old tear-box. + + _Yso._ Holy Mary! + + [_Tells her beads rapidly as he leads her aside_] + + _Fam._ [_Aroused_] Men! + If Osa looked from yonder mountain scarp, + Would she descend to lead such currish hearts + To liberty? + + _Gon._ We are not dogs. + + _Fam._ Then shame + To bear the life of dogs! + + _Ben._ What do you know + Of Osa? + + _Fam._ Know? Does she not guard the shrine + Cherished ten centuries in your secret hills? + Priestess and princess, daughter of your kings,-- + The ancient poet kings who ruled and sang + In palaces where now your huddled huts + Give you a slave's foul shelter! + + _A Voice._ Will she come? + + _Fam._ To such as you? With heads hung down, and backs + Bared for the whip? The moment that you hold + Your manhood dearer than your life, she'll stand + Before you. Then you'll see---- + + _Mas._ For God's sake, hush! + The master! + + _Ben._ [_As all look left_] No, it's Coquriez. + + _Gon._ With his Gringo. + + [_Coquriez enters with Chartrien. They cross right_] + + _Cha._ Leave me alone. + + _Coq._ My soul, am I not sick + Of your dumb lordship? Now the master's here, + I hope, by Jesu, that our ways will part. + + [_Turns and joins the men, leaving Chartrien seated on the stone step + of one of the doors to the long hut, right. Megario enters unseen + and stands watching, left. They gradually become aware of his + presence, and all are silent_] + + _Meg._ Coquriez! + + _Coq._ [_Crossing left_] Here, sir! + + [_The tension relaxes slightly. Lissa and Ysobel quietly distribute + food and the men eat in silence. Famette keeps in shadow, a shawl + over her head, and vainly tries to hear what Megario and Coquriez + are saying. They talk in low tones at left, then more centre, + front_] + + _Coq._ Shoot the Gringo, sir? + I thought he was to live. + + _Meg._ It must be done + To-morrow. + + _Coq._ I'll do it. + + _Meg._ Take him on the road, + And don't come back with him. + + _Coq._ To-morrow, sir? + + _Meg._ At day-break. Drop him cold. I was a fool + To let him live a day! + [_Famette has advanced too far and Megario sees her_] + Who's that? + + _Coq._ There? Oh! + I bought her in last week. + + _Meg._ The day I left? + + _Coq._ I think 'twas then. + + _Meg._ An old one,--so you said. + + _Coq._ About the Gringo, sir,---- + + _Meg._ What is her name? + + _Coq._ Famette. + + [_Famette goes back to the women_] + + _Meg._ A figure too. + + _Coq._ It's not so easy + To drop a white-skin---- + + _Meg._ Come, Famette! Come here. + [_She turns and comes slowly_] + Old? By the gods! Why did you lie to me? + + _Coq._ My lord ... you like none past fourteen. + She's that + Half over. + + _Meg._ Brazen devil! Come, Famette. + I like your name. I like your face too, girl. + Don't be afraid. Show me your eyes. You won't? + Where have I seen you? + + _Fam._ I'm a stranger, sir. + My home was in the north. + + _Meg._ That fester-spot! + A stranger? Then we must be good to you. + Where do you sleep? + + _Fam._ There, in the hut. + + _Meg._ You'll have + A better soon. Next time I'll see your eyes. [_Going_] + Mind, Coquriez, to-morrow! Do that well, + I'll pardon this. [_Exit_] + + _Fam._ What is 't you do to-morrow? + And why do you need pardon? You who serve + So well? + + _Coq._ My pretty bird, I've been too slow. + + _Fam._ Too slow? + + _Coq._ I've limped, and lost. + + _Fam._ Ah, Coquriez! + + _Coq._ You're not afraid of _me_. You look at me, + And turned from him. That's honey on his curse! + + _Fam._ He curses you? And you do all for him! + All that he asks you,--things he dares not do + With his own hand. + + _Coq._ You care for that? + + _Fam._ You risk + Your soul, perhaps,---- + + _Coq._ 'Tis certain. Pray for me, + Chiquita. + + _Fam._ When? + + _Coq._ To-morrow I must leave + The Gringo in the marshes. + + _Fam._ Oh, 'twas that! + And paid with curses---- + + _Lis._ [_Calls, as a new batch of men come in_] + Come, Famette! Here's work! + + _Fam._ We'll talk again. [_Hurries to Lissa_] + + _A man._ The beans are cold. + + _Another._ Soured too! + Gray Moses, here's a life! + + _Mas._ Do you complain, + O, comrades? Now your hour is come? The pearl + O' the long ungarnished day? The holy hour + Of--beans? Why, think! What do we live for, men? + For sweaty moments battling 'gainst the sun + To strip the thorny hennequin? For nights + Of bitten sleep in unwashed pens? Not so. + Lift up your cups! Here is the crown of toil! + Each day we reach our life's supremest dome, + And know we're there! Can man ask more? Even kings, + Though the gold frontal of munificence + Is bowed before them, yet must fretting guess + The morrow's store. But we, my friends, we know! + Then let each separate and distinct legume, + Dear as the Egyptian treasure lost in wine, + Delay as preciously---- + + _Coq._ [_Cutting him across shoulders_] + Come down from that! + There's more for you, my friend, i' the lower yard. + I'll tie you up. + + _Fam._ O, Coquriez, let him go. + _You_ should not care. His tongue was born with him, + And God may mend it. Let the fool alone. + + _Coq._ Hmm, if you ask me---- + + _Fam._ Thank you, Coquriez. + I'll stand for him he'll not offend again. + + _Mas._ My tongue is glue. 'Twill stick to its place. + + _A man._ Fish! fish! + + _Another._ He's had his share. + + _The man._ Not half a cup! + O, Jesu, I am starved. I did my stint, + And helped the boy, Famette. Can I do that + On half a cup? + + _Fam._ No, Berto, here is more. + + _Yso._ The Gringo does not eat. + + _Fam._ I'll take him this. + + [_Fills cup from bowl of beans and goes to Chartrien, who is still + seated on the step, listless and observing nothing_] + + _Fam._ Señor? + + _Cha._ Who spoke? O, you, Famette? No, thanks. + I can not eat. [_Turns from her_] That's twice I've heard the voice + Of Hernda. Madness creeps, but surely comes. + + _Fam._ [_Over his shoulder_] You must escape to-night. + + _Cha._ [_Facing her_] Escape? To-night? + + _Fam._ Here, hold the cup, and eat. Do, sir! We're watched. + To-morrow Coquriez leads you to the woods, + Comes back alone---- + + _Cha._ At last I know my hour. + + _Fam._ But you shall live. Last night I worked till day + At that locked gate. 'Tis open. None suspects. + Outside there's water in a flask, and bread,-- + Beneath the cactus at the left---- + + _Cha._ But how + Get out? I am locked in at night, and watched + At other hours. + + _Fam._ Eat, eat, and listen, Señor! + To-night a flogging in the lower yard + Will empty this. You'll go with Coquriez. + Urge him to bring you back. Say you are ill,-- + For that you are,--and come. Here I shall hide, + And as you pass, will suddenly step out + And speak to Coquriez. You fall behind, + In shadow of my hut, move round it, wait + This side, then see what's next to do. + + _A man._ [_Calling_] Famette? + Where is Famette? She doesn't count the beans. + + [_Famette goes back to the men_] + + _Cha._ It is a lure. If I attempt escape, + Then Coquriez shoots me dead, his soul just clear + Of murder. + + _Coq._ [_To Famette_] Our Gringo's learned to eat, I see. + + _Cha._ Now do they change confederate nods, and gaze + Their mated thoughts. Down, down to dust, my heart! + The struggle's off. I'll fight no more. Yon stars + Have rest for me. Is 't so? Vain footing there. + What rest have they, that share with man the surge + From life to life? There Jupiters unfound + Whirl cooling till their straining sides may bear + Ocean and land and clinging bride of green; + And Saturns, nameless yet, cast travailing + Their ringed refulgence. Not the frozen moons + May fix in stillness, but sweep captive back + To flaming centres when their planets call. + There old, dead suns, that think their work is done, + Meet crashing, ground to cloudy fire whose worlds, + Far driven, traverse time and know men's days. + Ay, one may go beyond the ether's breath, + Farthest of all, to be another First, + Undreaming this our God. And I must shift + Eternal and unresting as those suns. + Then let Death hasten. He shall be as one + Who timely strips a wrestler of his cloak, + And, kindly freed, I shall uncumbered leap + To other battle, finding armor where + I find my cause. + + _A man._ [_To Famette_] My turn. Here, give me that. + + _Fam._ The Gringo's had no fish. + + _The man._ Then give me his. + He doesn't care. Has run already from + The smell. + + _Fam._ I'll give you half. The rest + I'll take to him. + + _Coq._ He'll come for what he wants. + + _Fam._ No, he is sick, poor devil! [_Goes to Chartrien_] + + _Coq._ Humph! + + _Fam._ [_To Chartrien_] You'll take + The chance? There is no other. + + _Cha._ It's a trap. + You risk your life for me, a Gringo? No. + + _Fam._ You must believe me! Oh, what can I say! + + _Cha._ Say nothing. Go. + + _Fam._ I love you, love you, Señor! + + _Cha._ You would persuade me. + + _Fam._ Sir, the wine you found + Behind your prison door,--and good, clean bread,-- + I put them there! + + _Cha._ 'Twas you, Famette? I thought + That Coquriez did it,--feared I'd die before + The master came. + + _Fam._ Not his brute heart! And then + That night, of fever---- + + _Cha._ Yes! What then? + + _Fam._ I lay + Outside your jail, my head against the wall, + That I might hear if once you groaned, or know + If sleep had come. + + _Cha._ Can such love be for me? + + _Fam._ You must--you _must_ believe me! + + _Cha._ God, your eyes! + [_She lowers her head_] + ... 'Tis madness, bred of these sun-poisoned days, + And nights without a hope.... Look up, Famette. + I do believe you. + + _Fam._ [_Kissing her rosary_] Mother, adored and blessed! + + _Cha._ Wilt be a beggar soldier's bride, Famette? + + _Fam._ You do not love me, Señor. + + _Cha._ But I love + Your gentle heart that warms mine empty,--love + Your eyes, like memories burning,--and your voice + That's linked to an old wound in me,--but most + I love your soul that is as great as truth + And strong as sacrifice. You'll come to me + In Quito, if I make escape? I'll find + A way to bring you out---- + + _Fam._ You're mine? + + _Cha._ Till death. + + _Fam._ And after that? + + _Cha._ I'll give you truth for truth. + Beyond this world I hope to meet a soul + Who did not walk in this, but ought to have, + For here her body dwelt. This side of death, + My life--a bitter one, that only you + Have sweetened--is your own, if you will have + So mean a gift. + + [_Ipparro has entered the yard and becomes a centre of altercation. + He starts out taking Lissa's boy, Iduso. There is a shriek from + Lissa, and Famette hurries to her_] + + _Lis._ My boy! My little one! + God strike you dead, Ipparro! + + _Fam._ You'll not flog + The boy? + + _Ipp._ He didn't do his stint by half. + You know the master's rules. He's twelve years old. + Must cut three thousand leaves. + + _Fam._ A man's full work. + And he's so small. + + _Lis._ And sick he is. Two days + He couldn't eat. + + _Ipp._ You women! + + _Fam._ Let him go. + A little child, Ipparro. + + _Ipp._ Let him go? + Am I the master of the hacienda? + He'll tie _me_ up to-morrow! + + _Fam._ It will kill + Iduso. + + _Lis._ Such a little one, he is! + A baby yesterday,--to-day a man,-- + How can that be? + + [_An overseer enters left_] + + _Overseer._ What's up? Come on with you! + The master waits,--burns like perdition! Come! + Come, all of you! The women too! Clear out! + + [_Drives them out. Famette slips into her hut. Chartrien joins the men + and follows last with Coquriez. They stop left_] + + _Coq._ Won't see the show? + + _Cha._ I'll not go on. + + _Coq._ Come then. + I'll lock you up. [_They turn back_] + We'll have an early march + To-morrow, mate. Must hit the brush by dawn. + There's little sleep for me. + + _Cha._ Shall I have more + In that hot pen? + + _Coq._ [_Laughs_] You'll make it up, I guess. + + _Cha._ I understand. You'll murder me. + + _Coq._ My soul! + Let's keep our manners, though we sit in hell, + My occupation's decent, nothing said. + The silent deed is clean, but mouth it once, + The hands will smell. Pah! + [_Famette steps out of hut_] + Here's my kitten! + A kiss, my honey-pot! + + _Fam._ I've better for you. + + [_Gives him a bottle of wine_] + + _Coq._ My ducky! From the master's cellar! + ... How---- + + _Fam._ No matter. It is good. + + _Coq._ Thief of my soul, + A kiss! + + [_As he attempts to embrace her she springs back, pointing left_] + + _Fam._ Look, look! He's gone! The Gringo flies! + O, Coquriez, you'll be shot! + + _Coq._ [_Stunned for a moment, springs off shouting_] + Help! Stop him! Help! [_Exit left, firing his pistol_] + The Gringo! Stop him! + + [_Famette runs to gate right, where Chartrien is removing bar_] + + _Cha._ Come! Fly with me! Now! + I can not leave you here! + + _Fam._ Go! Do not stop, + However weary, till you're safe in Quito. + The wounded hare, remember, takes no nap. + + _Cha._ Come, come! + + _Fam._ No, I am safe. And there's more work + For me. They'll come back here to search. Nay, go! + Another moment and we both shall die! + + _Cha._ [_Kissing her_] I'll wait in Quito,--then a husband's kiss! + + [_Goes. Famette puts up bar, then returns to her hut and sinks at + door_] + + _Fam._ If I could pray! If I could pray! How far + Seems that old God I knew! A playhouse God + Who never saw the world! [_Leaps up_] + They're coming back! + + [_Sits again, abjectly, her shawl over her head. Megario, Coquriez, + and peons, enter_] + + _Meg._ Where is the woman? + + _Coq._ There she sits,--the witch! + + _Meg._ Stand up! Take off that shawl! + + [_Famette stands up. A man snatches the shawl from her head_] + + _Meg._ Famette! Not you? + + _Fam._ [_Cowering_] I, master. + + _Meg._ [_To men_] Search the yard. Turn every leaf + And stone. + + [_The men scatter_] + + _Mas._ I'll give that gate a look. [_Crosses to gate right_] + + _Meg._ This was + Your drooping modesty! [_Turns on Coquriez_] + You fool!--to let + The man escape! By Heaven, you might have burnt + The hacienda down and not have made + My blood so hot! + + _Coq._ It was the woman, sir. + She jumped before me, smiling like a devil, + And when I tried to pass she caught my knees + And held this thing up, saying 'twas for me. + I kicked her off---- + + _Meg._ No doubt! + + _Coq._ And when I turned + The prisoner was gone. + + _Meg._ [_To Famette_] You saw him go? + + _Fam._ Yes, master. Through the gate, like wings. And then + I gave the warning. Coquriez knows I did. + + _Meg._ What did she say? + + _Coq._ She cried "The Gringo flies!" + And pointed there. + + _Mas._ [_Returning_] The upper gate is fast. + He went that way. [_Nods left_] Beneath the cypresses + Into the maguey fields. + + _A man._ He'll not get far. + He has no water. + + _Meg._ He will die in th' brush, + And I shall never know it. Alive or dead, + He must be found. I'll flog a man a day, + Until I see his bones. + + _Gon._ [_Coming up_] He is not here. + We've looked in all the huts. + + _Meg._ Ipparro? + + _Ipp._ Sir! + + _Meg._ Send men abroad, for fifty miles about, + To put the haciendas on the watch. + He must come in for water. Choose good men, + Who _ride_, and see no wenches by the way. + + _Coq._ My lord, I've served you long---- + + _Meg._ Too long, you hound! + Where is your lady's token? + + _Coq._ This, my lord. + She thrust it in my hand. + + _Meg._ And left it too! + + _Coq._ I knew 'twas yours. + + _Meg._ [_To Famette_] A thief too, are you? + + [_Famette crouches, drawing shawl over her head_] + + _Meg._ True, + Coquriez, you have served me long. I'll add + You've served me well until to-night. + + _Coq._ O, pardon! + + _Meg._ I trusted you. And held your hand as mine, + To make my wishes deeds. + + _Coq._ 'Tis sworn your own! + + _Meg._ Then prove it. Take this whip. Come, take it, man! + Now flog that witch. + + _Coq._ Famette! A woman, sir? + + _Meg._ The devil's second name is woman. Do it! + + _Coq._ A heavy hand I've laid on men, my lord, + But never yet---- + + _Meg._ Her smile struck deep to make + Such putty of your heart. + [_Coquriez drops whip_] Pick up that whip! + _You_ want its kisses, do you? Pick it up, + Or you shall feel them to your traitor bones! + I'll have you flogged together! + + [_Coquriez slowly picks up whip. Famette rises, throwing off her + shawl_] + + _Fam._ Hear me, men! + For men you are,--not beasts. Your hands are strong + In ceaseless toil. Day after day you pile + Your master's wealth more high. Day after day + You sweat your way a little nearer death, + That he may kick your bodies from his path + And set your graves in hennequin. But know + Who toils may fight! The hand that lifts a spade + May bear a sword. The strength you give to him, + Use for yourselves. Your master is one man, + You are five hundred---- + + _Meg._ Gods! I'll stop your mouth! + You men there--go--you dozen at the gate-- + Go to the dry-yard--load your backs with fibre-- + And bring it here! + [_Men go out_] + I'll teach you now, you slaves! + You are five hundred--yes--and I am one, + But in me is the might of Goldusan! + The power of Cordiaz is in my whip, + And back of that is iron Hudibrand! + Kill me to-night, to-morrow you shall die, + Each dog of you,--you know it! + [_Men come in with fibre_] + Throw the stuff + Against the hut. There, pile it up. More, more! + Now, Coquriez, the gentle, you've refused + To ruffle your fond dove,--here's sweeter work, + And for no hand but yours. Put her within, + Then fire the hut. [_Utter silence_] + What terror's on you, beasts? + + _Coq._ In God's name, sir, you dare not! + + _Meg._ In the name + Of all who know how power is kept, I dare! + Move there, you dog! + [_Coquriez stands motionless_] + Do you refuse again? + Then ... in your heart. [_Shoots. Coquriez falls dead_] + Who'll be the next to stand on feet of lead + When I say "Do?" Gonzalo! Garza! Out! + + [_The men do not move. Megario lifts his pistol_] + + _Fam._ Spare them, Megario. I'll go in. + + [_Enters hut, closing door_] + + _Meg._ [_Trembling_] That voice! + Who is this woman? Speak! Who knows? I've heard.... + Bah! I'm a fool!... Take up that lantern there, + Gonzalo. Break it on the fibre. Move! + + [_He stands with his weapon drawn. The door of the hut in thrown + open and Famette appears. She wears a rich robe, gleaming white, + with blue and gold cabalistic broidery. In her hand is a sceptre, + on her head a crown with a single star. The men, with cries of + "Osa! Osa!" fall upon their knees, foreheads to ground, then leap + up, changed, and glaring. They seem ready to spring upon Megario_] + + _Fam._ Shoot now, Megario! [_Silence_] + You dare not do it! + Kill me,--kill one of them,--shoot till your weapon + Pants its last murder, and a hundred hands + Will tear you limb from limb and bone from bone, + Till every separate shred of you be cast + To its own devil! Shoot, Megario! + [_His hand falls. Famette steps into the yard_] + Where are the masters who can help you now? + The mighty ones who know how power is kept? + Look on these men. Their blood sings as it sang + Through centuries gone,--with courage that was theirs + Ere ships came up like night on this doomed coast + Unloading hell! + + _Meg._ Who are you, woman? Who? + + _Fam._ The spirit of these people, absent long, + But come at last to be their hearts' old fire. + Four hundred years you've trampled on their bodies, + But see--look in their eyes--you have not slain + Their God. + + _Meg._ Your name! Who are you? + + _Fam._ Riven hills + May hide the shrine of long unsceptred kings, + And keep their royal secret year by year. + + _Voices._ Hail, Osa! Osa, queen! + + _Meg._ What do you want? + + _Fam._ Three things, Megario. + + _Meg._ What are they? + + _Fam._ First,-- + That I may pass from here, free as I came, + With every soul that will go out with me. + + _Meg._ The way is open. Go. + + _Fam._ And you with us. + Far as the coast, where willing transport waits + To bear us northward. Then you may go free. + [_Turns to the people_] + There brothers wait you, men,--there freedom's tongue + Is beacon fire. The whole of northland sings, + A canticle of flame. You'll go with me? + + _Mas._ [_Loudly_] We'll follow Osa! + + _Voices._ Osa! Osa! On! + + _Fam._ Gonzalo, choose you men, a thrifty score, + To fill the water-jars and get us food + From the hacienda stores. + [_Gonzales passes out, men following at his signal_] + The third demand, + Megario, is this. That key you belt + So close-- + [_Megario claps hand on key_] + Yes, that,--it must be mine, to unlock + A dungeon here and free a prisoner + Whom you for love of torture keep alive. + + _Meg._ No, that's a lie. + + _Fam._ Deny it to the stars + That saw you yesternight steal up like crime + To a dark grating, saw you gloat, and fling + The crumbs that will not let your victim die, + Though scarce they give him life. + + _Meg._ [_Gasping_] A lie! + + _Fam._ The key, + Megario. + + _Meg._ I will not---- + + _Fam._ In my hand! + [_Megario takes key from his belt and hands it to her_] + I thank thee, God, my hand may turn the key + That frees Rejan LeVal! Now forward, men! + O, glorious to be men! Ipparro, walk + Beside our prisoner. Garza, be his aid. + Two days of marching, then the friendly sea. + And if you toil again amid these fields, + You'll take the fruit. On! + + _Men._ Osa! To the sea! + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE: _The Grove of Peace, as in second act. Late afternoon. Two +officers meet as curtain rises._ + + + _First Off._ So Cordiaz is fallen. + + _Second Off._ Joggled down + At last, poor man! + + _First Off._ When all the ghosts he made + Come back to weep his fall, I'll swell the flood + With half a tear, no more. + + _Second Off._ Then you're for Vardas? + + _First Off._ By glory, no! He'll open Goldusan + To every thief that knocks. + + _Second Off._ Trust Hudibrand + To guard the door. Till he has plucked the goose,-- + Then they may shave it for their part. + + _First Off._ So, friend? + + _Second Off._ Phut! Goldusan's his box of snuff--held so-- + And as he pleases, tchew!--'tis empty. + + _First Off._ Come, + I'll walk your way. [_They move, right_] + What of this truce? Goes 't deep? + + _Second Off._ As flattery may plough. It is our croon + Of compliment to our new-seated king. + + _First Off._ Nay, president. We're a republic now. + + _Second Off._ Spell 't king or president, it means the same. + + _First Off._ But with Bolderez ours, the truce should last. + + _Second Off._ Why, 't may, till night. Bolderez, friend, + Is not the revolution. + + _First Off._ He's the heft of 't, + And's made a full surrender. + + _Second Off._ Made his terms! + His officers are guardians of the State, + And he--he's stallion of the court, submits + To curb and comb that he may prouder prance + And keep the herd at stare. Surrender? Lord! + I think it! + + [_Enter Third Officer, from left_] + + _Third Off._ What's stirring, friends? + + _Second Off._ Sleep-walkers. + + _Third Off._ Ay, + This amnesty makes idlers. + + _Second Off._ So to-day, + But work brews for to-morrow. + + _Third Off._ You've a secret, + And I've a guess that picks the lock to 't. + + _Second Off._ Come! + These leaves are listeners. + + [_They go off, lower right. Enter by path upper right, Señora Ziralay + and Guildamour_] + + _Gui._ To find you here + Makes my best hope a sluggard, far outgone + By th' dear event. + + _Señ._ I came five days ago, + The princess with me, here to wait return + Of Hudibrand. That you have come with him, + Makes sober welcome blithe. + + _Gui._ He's slack in health. + + _Señ._ That's written plain. + + _Gui._ What iron's in the man + That he yet lives? + + _Señ._ He's been in conclave? + + _Gui._ Yes. + Five nights he routed sleep from th' drowsy synod, + And hung upon us turning every flank, + Till Protest paled and Patience bled at heart. + + _Señ._ And at the end? + + _Gui._ He held our sealèd bonds, + And Vardas sat secure. + + _Señ._ The bonds? We own + Our railways now? + + _Gui._ We do. And Hudibrand + Owns us,--that is, the bonds. A good, stout noose + For a nation's neck. + + _Señ._ And all these days he's been + In th' capital? + + _Gui._ In closest session, though + A stage-fed rumor held that he was gone + From Goldusan. The harried people fear + Assarian power, and on the jealous watch, + Keep Hudibrand in burrow. + + _Señ._ He's gay-blown + With confidence. I hear from Ziralay + He made a careless peace with all the friends + Of tottering Cordiaz. + + _Gui._ That carelessness + Was sea-deep cunning. Favors will go high, + They'll find. Megario gave full half his lands + For place in th' Cabinet. + + _Señ._ Megario moved + In blaze of censure, and did well to escape + Singed of but half his goods. Two prisoners lost---- + + _Gui._ Ah, Chartrien and.... + + _Señ._ Rejan! + + _Gui._ Be guarded here. + Fate rustles at that name. + + _Señ._ O, Guildamour, + Fear is the silent warder that divides + Our secret hearts. Give it the tongue of daring, + And like a blest interpreter 'twill bring + Our hopes together. + + _Gui._ There is stir within. + Come from these walls, Señora. And if your hope + Is on the road with mine, I've news will make + The wayside sing. Winds gather here and yon + That may out-swagger even Hudibrand. + + [_They go back along cascade path, as Hudibrand, Diraz, Mazaran, and + Golifet come out of house_] + + _Gol._ [_Holding up letter_] Nay, fearless majesty might take more note + Of this despatch. + + _Hud._ That beggar's mewl? + + _Gol._ There's power + In every word. LeVal must harbor strength + We do not know of. + + _Hud._ Tush! That is the vaunt + Of weakness, not of power. + + _Maz._ What is 't he says? + + _Gol._ Avers him free of this imposèd truce, + And gives a fair foe's warning he'll attack + Whene'er and how he can. + + _Maz._ Well bragged. + + _Dir._ His guns, + No doubt, are cooler than his pen. + + _Maz._ What more? + + _Gol._ Repudiates Bolderez, and declares + Himself the head of the Insurrectionists, + Sole authorized to speak and treat for them. + My lord, what shall I answer? + + _Hud._ Answer? Humph! + Treat with a rag-pole? We'll not sag to that. + + [_Re-enter, right, Señora and Guildamour_] + + _Hud._ My dear Señora, is our freakish daughter + In hiding from us? We've not had her greeting. + + _Señ._ She knew you close engaged, my lord, and left + The hour to you. I'll tell her of your pleasure. + + _Hud._ My steps are yours. [_To his companions_] + Each where he would, my friends. + [_Goes in with Señora_] + + _Dir._ I'm for a swim. + + _Gol._ And I. + + _Maz._ The river? With you! + + _Gol._ [_Leading left_] Bolderez' men are gathering opposite, + Behind the river woods. + + _Maz._ The pick of camps. + + _Gol._ They know it too. There's water, and the trees + Are cool and friendly. + + _Dir._ Was it not resolved + Bolderez' men should join the Federal Guards? + + _Gol._ They do, in th' main. This is a straggling wing + Left in the hills, that we have given leave + To station here. + + _Dir._ That's prudence too. + + _Maz._ Why so? + + _Dir._ I'm windward of a whisper. + + _Gol._ About LeVal? + + _Dir._ He's circling in. Let Hudibrand laugh low + Or the enemy will hear him. + + _Gol._ This LeVal + Was dead and buried,--three months out of life,-- + Shook from remembrance as the stalest clutter,-- + Now, save our eyes, he's jumped alive and rides + Our foremost thought! Enough to send a man + Back to his marrows. I shall pray to-night. + + _Maz._ A plunge for resolution! That will cool it. + + [_Exeunt lower left. Señora comes out of house and crosses to seat, + right_] + + _Señ._ 'Tis five o'clock. No sign! But he will come. + He comes! + + [_Enter Chartrien, lower right. They meet silently and clasp + hands_] + + _Cha._ My friend! I thought you far from here. + Safe in the capital. But nothing's strange + To those who've moved mid miracles. You've seen + LeVal? + + _Señ._ I have. + + _Cha._ I long to greet him. O, + Such walking of the dead renews the earth + And makes it habitable! I have heard + It was Famette who saved him,--added that + To array of deeds that must unlaurel all + The heroines of time. + + _Señ._ There'll be an hour + To talk of that. Now you must see the princess. + + _Cha._ Hernda is with you? _Here!_ + + _Señ._ And Hudibrand. + No danger there. He wants you now, and says + You'll find good grass if you will leap the stile. + + _Cha._ [_Answering her smile_] So blind as that? Poor mole, + he's been in th' ground + Too long. Will never get his eyes. + + _Señ._ Ay, he'll + Deny the sun till 't bakes him in his burrow. + But Hernda,--O, what welcome waits you, friend! + The ivory-crusted temple, shut and sealed + To eternal airs, is now a fane of rose, + Whose cloistral stairs, that wound so futilely, + Will now through fragrant twilight lead you up + To windowed Heaven. Come! Come, take your own! + + _Cha._ No! Wait.... + + _Señ._ A lover speaks that word? + + _Cha._ Señora,---- + + _Señ._ That wound she gave you here is open yet? + But you were wrong, and with your wretched doubts + Assailed her in the hour she lay on rack + To save you. + + _Cha._ On rack for me? She gave me up. + Gave me to him,--Megario,--knowing that + Meant death. + + _Señ._ And yet you live. + + _Cha._ I--? + + _Señ._ Live. Do you not know + You were to die that night? + + _Cha._ I've heard. + + _Señ._ Those hours + She gained for you meant life. + + _Cha._ She gained for me? + I saw his lips on hers. + + _Señ._ You did. And I-- + I saw her face. The dead are warmer. She + Could bear that touch for your sake, and on that + Bore too your curse. + + _Cha._ For me? I'll hear no more, + Señora. + + _Señ._ You will see her now? + + _Cha._ Not now, + Nor ever. I am here by pledge, to meet-- + A friend. + + [_Masio enters lower right_] + + _Señ._ Is this--the man? + + _Cha._ No, but I know him. + He's seeking me, I think. + + _Señ._ I'll leave you then. + + _Cha._ [_Seizing her hands_] Nothing to Hernda! + + _Señ._ Nothing. You and she + For what may come. [_Goes in_] + + _Cha._ You, Masio? From Famette? + + _Mas._ No, from the camp. + + _Cha._ The camp! But she is there? + + _Mas._ That's guessing, sir. There's fernseed on her wings. + She flits invisible, then bat your eyes + You see her. + + _Cha._ I've her word she'd meet me here. + + _Mas._ Queer place. You come from Quito? + + _Cha._ Yes. 'Twas there + I had her letter making this strange tryst. + I've travelled from that hour. Famette has left + Her name upon the air, and all the way + I heard it. + + _Mas._ She's the bird of courage, dares + Go far as our LeVal himself. But here's + What brought me, sir. [_Gives Chartrien a letter_] + 'Tis from LeVal. + + _Cha._ His hand! + His living hand! [_Reads, pales, and stands silent_] + + _Mas._ Bad, sir? + + _Cha._ No, good. 'Tis good. + + _Mas._ Then I'll be off. My head's no show variety, + But I'd not trust it long in th' grove of Peace. + We'll see you soon in camp? + + _Cha._ To-night, I hope. + Famette holds key to that. + + _Mas._ The first star bring you! [_Exit_] + + _Cha._ [_Reads letter_] _When you see the princess Hernda, kiss for + me the hand that gave me freedom. It was she unlocked my dungeon and + nursed my bones to life. What I am is hers, and therefore yours._ + _Le Val._ + + Hast grown so spent, O Fortune, that one stroke + Must deal both death and life?--with hand that parts + The night, show too my rainbow loss?.... All, all + My future sold to the gray usurer Grief, + Who gathers up as sapped and withered leaves + Time's unimagined buds! No eve, no dawn + With Hernda! No brief night that makes + The sun unwelcome as he golds desire, + The warm mist-flower where we lie its heart! + Unbrace thee here, my courage! Valiancy, + First god and last in man, unbuckle here! + ... How meet Famette? Smile on her smiles? Deceive + Her love? She'll lay her head upon my heart + And hear it crying "Hernda!".... Hernda lost! + I must not dream here open to the risk + Of her unanswered eyes. Their lure would make + Dishonor, that on wreck feeds rampant, spring + Unshamed in me. I would forsake Famette. + + [_Goes right, upper path. Hernda comes from house and crosses rapidly + to him_] + + _Her._ Chartrien! Come! [_He turns slowly and meets her_] + You take my hand, here where + You wished me dead? + + _Cha._ That you have offered it + Proves me forgiven. + + _Her._ _You_ forgiven? Ah, + Has my atonement swollen above my fault + Till I may nod a pardon where I thought + To kneel for one? + + _Cha._ LeVal has written me. [_Kisses her hand_] + This kiss is his salute, and that 'tis his, + Not mine, makes my lips bold to leave it here. + + _Her._ Forgiven! Dawn is on my sky, that hung + Unutterably black! Yes, it is true + I saved LeVal. From Fate's own arms I snatched + My treachery's sequence, though his meantime pain + Is ever writ against me. Yet I too + Knew misery that might be mate of his. + And for that other wrong--here where we stand---- + + _Cha._ My wrong to you! Nay, don't forgive me that. + Leave me a wound to keep me ever paying + The debt of pain that solely eases guilt. + + _Her._ I had to choose,--Oh, agony of choice!-- + Between your death as certain as the night + And your surrender to Megario, + That seemed but death postponed, yet held a hope + Worth any hazard. That you live is proof + My choice was God's. My reasonless despair + Held Heaven's sanity. Ah, that you live + Is substance of reward, joy's permanent + Sweet soil, but there's a flower to spring from that, + A nodding ecstasy that I may pluck + For my own bosom,--is there not? + + _Cha._ Don't--don't---- + + _Her._ You turn away? You've still a doubt of me? + Then modesty may save her frigid self. + I'll speak for love, the one best thing this side + Of Heaven. You've taken my hand, and now my heart, + And all myself would follow it. My heart, + My body, and my risen soul. Yes, risen! + My past of clay is quickened with a breath + That waits not death to know itself immortal, + And this is all my pride, that by that breath + I'm rich enough to give myself to you. + [_She waits for him to speak. He makes no answer_] + I am rejected, having but my shame + To cover naked love. Yet vanity + Finds me this scanted shroud. Seeing you here, + My hunger guessed at yours. I felt you came + To seek me, else my heart, timid with fault, + Had kept its silence, though my tongue had given + As now a friend's good welcome. + + _Cha._ I have come, + But not to you. + + _Her._ For why then? I've an ear + Of caution. Let my veins, at too swift flood, + Grow slow as prudence in what work you will. + Now that our aims are near as once our hearts, + You'll let me help? I swear by both our souls, + And yours the dearer one, that our desires + Are one bent bow, and if our arrows speed + They'll kiss at the same mark. + + _Cha._ I'm fathoms deep, + But in a sea as sweet as ever closed + O'er drowned felicity! + + _Her._ Why are you here? + + _Cha._ To keep an oath!--that kept is our division, + Yet forfeited would so untreasure me + That being's god would blush dishallowed way + Quite out such husk of man! + + _Her._ An oath? + + _Cha._ Oh, first + In made self-curses I'll unload some part + Of this stuffed loathing for the wretch I am! + + _Her._ Nay, I'll not listen. + + _Cha._ Star that was a maiden, + Do not believe I loved you when my days + Ran tribute at your feet,---- + + _Her._ Say anything + But that. Those days were mine, and true. + + _Cha._ False, false! + For love is generous as the heart of bounty, + Giving defect perfection. Narrowed hours, + Beseamed and flawed, take from its seer-lit eyes + The unstinted, dear proportion secret yet + In Time's full dream. + + _Her._ 'Twas I who failed---- + + _Cha._ Not you! + That midnight moment held the dawn of this, + All this that now you are, and love had seen + The folded glory of yourself had love + Been there to see. But I cast dust upon + Your sleeping wings, and did not know your heart + Till wounds had laid it bare. + + _Her._ How could you know + More than its native bosom where it dwelt + Strange and unguessed? + + _Cha._ If I had loved, + Such soul of fragrance had not hid from me + This unbound blossoming. + + _Her._ We must forget + Love's morning miracles forever missed. + His fair, warm day is left us,--sunset's gold, + And evening with the stars. That is enough + For me and you---- + + _Cha._ My pledge! I'm here to meet + Famette! + + _Her._ Famette! I know her. + + _Cha._ Know her! You? + + _Her._ And know she loves. Then it is you she waits? + + _Cha._ She saved my life. But that unvalued thing + Is debt's mere rubble. 'Tis her love makes up + The sum unpaid and out of reckoning. + And I--how can I tell you? + + _Her._ If you loved, + Look up. No shame can be where love has been. + + _Cha._ I've no defence,--yet say that you were lost + In midmost desert sands, and suddenly + A flower at your feet breathed of the woods + And darkling velvet shade where rest might be.... + + _Her._ But that's a miracle. + + _Cha._ So was her love + To me. Or say that flam and falsity + Ensnarled your every way till no true thing + Seemed left on earth, and then in lifted flash + Truth's priestess eyes looked from a human face + And you were loved,--what startled warmth would say + Your heart yet lived? Would you keep back your life + In barren hug? Deny its sunless gray + To gentle eyes that asked but leave to lay + Their radiance there? + + _Her._ I understand. She gave, + And I demanded. So the gods decree + Her boughs shall bloom and mine go bare. + + _Cha._ Oh, Heaven! + + _Her._ You love her, Chartrien? + + _Cha._ Silence be on that. + + _Her._ I'll know it,--hear you say it. Is your heart + Mine, or Famette's? + + _Cha._ My life is hers. + + _Her._ Your heart! + + _Cha._ Is yours. + + _Her._ Ah! Then--I give you to Famette. + + [_He kneels to kiss her hand. Hudibrand appears in door of house, + left. Smiles, and crosses to them_] + + _Hud._ Up to her lip, you rogue! A humble suitor + Gets humble favors. + + _Cha._ [_Rising_] You, my lord? + + _Hud._ Your hand, + My boy. + + _Cha._ It was my head you wanted, sir, + When last we met. + + _Hud._ Not so. I meant to save you, + But Hernda spiked my train. To have you die + Quite safely in a rumor was the sum + Of my intent against you. + + _Cha._ You're not well, + My lord? + + _Hud._ Most well! + + _Her._ He's lost some sleep. + + _Hud._ Tut, tut! + + _Cha._ You stay full long in Goldusan. I thought + You nearer home. + + _Hud._ I'm cruising in the gulf, + By th' morning papers,--the _reliable_ ones. + The gutter rags have guessed me,--but no matter. + I've seen the play through, and I go to-morrow. + Pouf! It has been a game! + + _Cha._ You speak as 'twere + At end. + + _Hud._ It ends to-day. [_Looks at watch_] + 'Tis just the hour. + Now Vardas is proclaimed the president + Of a liberated people. + + _Cha._ What of that? + + _Hud._ He's bowing now. "I thank you, gracious friends, + Most loyal citizens----" + + _Cha._ What's that to do + With freedom's war? + + _Hud._ It merely ends it. + + _Cha._ What? + You think we fought for that? A change of caps + Upon two brigands' heads? + + _Hud._ Tut, you've won more. + You with some justice warred on Cordiaz, + But Vardas is of heart so liberal + His people shall be rich in privileges + As many and as fair as in Assaria. + Myself will vouch it. + + _Cha._ I will vouch it too. + As many pits fed with the souls of men, + As many images of God deformed + In lawless fray to hold the peaks of greed + And at the top sit on their goblin gold + Content with bestial purr, who might have touched + The heavens with song. + + _Hud._ Is that for me, my boy? + + _Cha._ As many lives tramped out in hunger's scramble, + As many factories where driven wives + Forget the altar dream of babes and home. + As many sweating traps where flames may feed + On flesh of maidens, leaving still, charred bones + Whose only fortune is to ache no more. + As many brazen mills that noise their thrift + Above the ceaseless shuttle of small feet, + While you, the great arch-master, think none hears + That drownèd pattering. As many marts + Where, in law's shadow, girl-eyed slaves are sold + To blows and lust. As many cripples thrown + Upon the dump-heap of a soulless Peace, + Each season piled to moaning wreck more high + Than ever War made in its darkest year. + As many holes where life must lie with death + For privilege of sleep. Oh, I could give + Black instances till yonder sun be set + Nor end your loathsome list! + + _Hud._ A rare, hot sermon, + But I'm not Providence, that from my hand + Must pour unfailing bounty. + + _Cha._ Humble, sir? + I thought you claimed a power that gave the world + The shape you chose. + + _Hud._ But I must use the stuff + I find here. That I can't remake or change. + So must my world show flaws and ugly spots + Due to its substance, not to my good pattern. + + _Cha._ That stuff, sir, is the same that lifted us + From four feet up to two! The elements + That played like death upon it but aroused + Their conqueror. In the embrace of winds + It made us ships and gave us wings. From dust, + The very dust that choked it, grew the dream + That lifts it deathless, an eternized God. + And surely as your grip makes it a slave, + You teach it freedom. In your clutch 'twill find + Once more the need creative, and upswell + With power that shall leave you by the way + As heaving seas leave straws upon the sand. + You shall be _nothing_. As a dream that dies + With waking--lost so utterly + The sleeper knows not that it was--so you + Shall be a vanished thing that man born free + Can not reclothe in guess! + + _Hud._ Peonia's sun + Has touched your wits. You still think of revolt? + + _Cha._ I think of victory. + + _Hud._ Your comedy + Is past its hour. Come, Chartrien, give it up. + Confess the war is done. + + _Cha._ Bolderez' guns + Will make confession of another sort. + + _Hud._ O, ho! I see a light. You have not heard + The morning news. Bolderez has come in. + + _Cha._ Come in? Your couriers flatter you. He holds + The heights of Gila with five thousand men. + + _Hud._ That's yesterday. To-day those brave five thousand + Are soldiers of united Goldusan. + Bolderez is adviser to the State, + A tinker in high place, who solders fast + The civic split---- + + _Cha._ You dream! This is not true! + + _Her._ Yes, Chartrien, it is true. We've lost Bolderez. + + _Cha._ He--has--deserted? + + _Hud._ No, he proves him loyal + To me, his master. + + _Cha._ You? + + _Hud._ He served me always. + You fool, this was _my_ revolution. + + _Cha._ Yours? + + _Hud._ Bolderez led my troops. It was for me + You fed his bony beggars. Ha! For me + You stuffed their hungry pockets with your gold! + I loosed your fortune when I know 'twould save + My own a gouge. But I've not dodged the score. + Those guns and horses for the Gazza scare + Cost me some paper---- + + _Cha._ You? My God! _Your_ war? + + _Hud._ I knew the storm would sweep out Cordiaz, + So strode its back that I might hold the bit + When came my hour. My boy, you fought for _me_. + I made you do it--I, whom you have said + Shall be as nothing. Where's the mighty sea + Shall toss me as a straw---- + + _Her._ O, father, peace! + You see he dies! + + _Hud._ Don't waste your tears. He'll live. + I've made good oxen out of wilder bulls. + + _Her._ He cannot live! The pain of it, the pain! + When aspirations have returned as wounds, + Then even the soul must die! + + _Hud._ They all get up. + Stout workers too,--quiet, serviceable, + Pestered no more with dreams. Here, give him this. [_Offers a flask_] + + _Cha._ [_Rousing, pushing flask aside_] Ay, no more dreams. + [_Springs up_] But action! Keep Bolderez. + We have LeVal, whose undiscouraged heart + Bears on its tide the conquering desire + Of twenty thousand men! + + _Hud._ Humph! Where are these + Invisible veterans? + + _Cha._ Some gather now + About his banner,--some wait in the hills + Till they are sure it is his voice that calls,-- + Some in your favor wrapped go to and fro + In your own camp, feeding a fire your gold + Can never light,--some dream till we have oped + Their prison doors,--in every part and corner + Of Goldusan, there's courage on the leap + To reach his side. + + _Hud._ What dribble! + + _Cha._ Rein this storm? + No human hand, nor Heaven's now, may leash it. + It is the throe when travailing Life is shaken + In absolute birth that makes undreamèd news + Even in the ear of God. + + _Hud._ Fanatic! Fool! + Have I not tried to teach you---- + + _Cha._ Teach yourself! + + _Hud._ Come, come! + + _Cha._ I mean the words. The race has learned + Its lesson while you've played with sand. At last + The dumb, trod way has spoken 'neath man's feet, + And by that word uncovered he has learned + What he shall _not_ be,--knows what heights of sun + Are his, and seeing takes his road,--no more + Battering in wild and bruisèd ignorance + A destiny of stone. Ay, consciousness + Has wakened in itself the unknown god + That gives the race its eyes. You, you a king? + Who do not know that every man is heir + To kingship that must leave such thrones as yours + Outcoursed and little recked as the strewn toys + Of childhood! + + _Hud._ Mud-sill dynasties. You know + That I am master. + + _Cha._ Master? You believe + That man, at top of conquest, who has made + Nature his weariless serf, and set the yoke + From his own neck on her divinities, + Will seal to you--weak, myriadth part of him-- + Those wizard captives bending to the dream + Of his new world? Gird you with fortune that + He wrenched from stony ages?--let you gorge + The magic fruit snatched by his perilled being + In starward battle up the abysmal steep? + + _Hud._ I am a fact,--not words. + + _Cha._ You can believe it? + At last on dawn-browed heights, with victor foot + On mysteries bound the genii of his wish, + He'll trail his hopes to kennel? Let you pluck + His universe unflowered, and shrink life + To growling brevity 'tween lash and bone? + A slave to _you_? Obstructive clod, + Who could not stir with one life-budding dream + Though holy imagination tipped with fire + Should score her script upon you! + + [_A physical pain overcomes Hudibrand. Hernda runs to his side. He + regains composure, his manner forbidding solicitude_] + + _Hud._ I am patient. + One word of mine would send you manacled + To prison. If you are here to lay down arms---- + + _Cha._ I'm not. + + _Her._ O, father! The amnesty! + + _Hud._ That shelter + Is not for him! + + _Cha._ Then speak your word, and learn + You fight not men but man. Wide as the world + His spirit blows against you, and little part + You'll cage in this one shackled body. + + _Hud._ One? + We'll drag the earth, or net the pack of you! + LeVal, marauding ghost, we'll prick his blood + Beneath his spectral mask. And that mad trull, + Famette, your holy maid---- + + _Cha._ She's safe from you! + God is about her as she walks among + Your hope-lorn slaves and touches their dead hearts + To life. + + _Hud._ To folly they are sick of! Ah, + Once more I've news. Your swarthy Joan has fled, + And all her magic warriors of a day + Again are beggars. + + _Cha._ Fled? + + _Hud._ To her cactus lair. + But she'll trapse back between two bayonets, + Stripped of her phantom wings. + + _Cha._ She is not gone. + That heart of truth! When she deserts LeVal + There'll be a breach in Heaven, and fiends may claim + The day for hell and you. + + _Hud._ 'Tis mine without + Such warm avouch. Your chaparral cock and hen + Have parted company. Her followers now, + Cursing and naked, straggle to our camps---- + + _Her._ Your pardon, sir! You are deceived. + + _Hud._ Ho, ho! + + _Her._ They're with LeVal. Not one stout heart is lost. + Famette but lends her captaincy to his + In needful absence---- + + _Hud._ You are much too wise. + + _Her._ I know Famette. + + _Hud._ You--what? Know _her_? + + _Her._ I do. + + _Hud._ This is the fruit of that mad jaunt, + Through Goldusan! Where have you seen her? + + _Her._ Here. + + _Hud._ Not here? That woman? Are you mad, my girl? + + _Her._ I love Famette. If we were one, I'd be + But cinders in her saintly fire. + + _Hud._ Here, miss? + You've had her with you? Sniffed and cheeped together, + And drowned my kingdom in a gossip cup? + + _Her._ If men, the bravest, are but flies upon + Your monarch ermine, that with careless shake + You scatter, can you fear a woman? + + _Hud._ What? + Mocked by a chit? I fear? You mannerless filly, + I've let you plunge and ramp o'er all my fields, + But I'll not have you whinnying at the fence + Till roadside jades break through! She has been _here_? + + _Her._ She has. Dined at my board, slept in my bed, + And so shall do again. + + _Hud._ I'll welcome her! + And send you trucking home! You shall not wait + For any whimsy this or that! + + _Her._ But, sir,---- + + _Hud._ No trumpery packing,--no unready whine! + This hour! That you should moil your royalty + Touching such scum! + + _Her._ Nay, I was scum until she gave me substance. + I had no soul until she made hers mine, + No cleanliness of heart till I knew hers, + No knowledge till I looked through her clear eyes, + No riches till I wrapped me in her rags---- + + _Hud._ You're raving! + + _Her._ No. Ah, father, father, I'm + Famette,--your daughter! I've not been in Cana, + But in the pits your greed has dug,--down, down + Where misery is so vile its own abyss + Shudders to hold it. Chartrien, now you know + My tale untold. I see your mind runs back + To light a way it travelled in the dark. + O, you were blind! I'd know you near though masked + In utter change. + + _Cha._ I'm folded now in sun + That makes me blind again. Are you Famette? + + _Her._ [_Showing her bared arm_] See this brown circlet + left that you might find + A trace of her? I've crossed the universe---- + Through hell--and reached you, have I not? + + _Cha._ [_Embracing her_] All sweet + Forfending stars now heap their fortunes one + And drop it on my heart that borrows heaven + To hold the imponderable gift! + + _Her._ Ah, poor Famette! + + _Cha._'Twas you--in that foul hacienda pen? + And would not speak? + + _Her._ I meant to save you, sir. + And had I told you then, would you have set + So blithely off to Quito? + + _Cha._ And left you there! + How can you think it? + + _Her._ Do I, sir? Nay, love, + Nor ever did. I knew you'd ruin all + With your big "won'ts" and "don'ts." + + _Cha._ O, sagest heart! + But here you kept my joy-gates shut so long. + Why such slow mercy, golden one? + + _Her._ You'll hear it? + There is a teasing devil in me, Chartrien, + That must have play. + + _Cha._ Ah, no! + + _Her._ Ay, and an ounce + Or so of cruelty, that would not let + Your frailty go unpinched. + + _Cha._ Nay, 'tis not so! + + _Her._ You'd rather think I put to royal test + Your godship? Wooed with lips so near your own, + And found you stanch to honor? That may be, + But I've a shameless reason dearer still. + I wanted all your love for Hernda,--all. + And had I said too soon that we were one, + Then on your breast my heart had never known + Which maid you clasped. + + _Cha._ You ever, sweet! + + _Her._ Yet she + Is dear. My joy could never be content + Within your heart beside unfaith to her. + She must have room there, not in name of love, + But truth. So you shall hold us both. + + _Cha._ Like this? + Grow to my heart, O garland of myself! + Be breath of me, till, like a double tree, + Root, sap, and bloom are one, + And in our noble fruiting Time forgets + To mourn Hesperides! + + _Her._ Heaven hold thy wish + The prayer thou meanest it! + + _Cha._ One bliss is man's + The perfect angels know not. In the arms, + Warm, rhythmic, round his battling soul, to feel + Spur of his noblest blood, and know his dreams + Are mated,--find in lightest winds that stir + Love's tremulous hair, the brave wing of his hope + That needs go farthest,--and when seasons fail, + And weary spirit turns from waste to waste, + Know lips that he may touch and touching kiss + The fallow world to harvest. Thus, and thus! + + [_Hudibrand, forgotten by the lovers, has fought through another moment + of agony, and advances, taking hold of Hernda_] + + _Hud._ Are you my daughter? + + _Her._ I am, but I've known hours + When shame, a cleansing fire, searched through my blood + For any drop that owned you father. + + _Hud._ In! + Go in! [_To Chartrien_] And you--I'll rid the earth of you, + And take its thanks! [_Staggers with a return of pain_] + + _Her._ [_Her arms about him_] O, father, let us help! + What is it, father? + + _Hud._ Nothing. Keep away! + Away! + + [_Throws her off. Enter, lower right, an officer attended_] + + _Off._ Your majesty, there's sure report + LeVal makes ready to oppose his guns + To our weak garrison. + + _Hud._ [_Ironic_] The spectre's near? + + _Off._ Across the stream,--the east and wooded bank. + A hundred times our force could not dislodge + His guns from such a vantage. + + _Hud._ Guns? LeVal? + He has no guns! + + _Off._ You'll hear them soon. I beg + Your highness' pardon, but your dignity + Would not be touched if you should hasten out. + + [_Enter, lower left, Golifet, Diraz, Mazaran_] + + _Gol._ My lord! + + _Hud._ What is this tale? You, Golifet? + You are in charge! + + _Gol._ 'Tis treachery, sir! I warned + Your majesty---- + + _Hud._ Come, what's the story? + + _Gol._ This. + Bolderez' officers whom we gave leave + To station near us, thus to put more guard + Between the town and rebels that might creep + Down from the hostile hills---- + + _Hud._ This egg's all shell. + Come, sir, the meat! + + _Gol._ They were in secret yoked + Most traitorously with LeVal, and all their men + Were coupled to his cause. They gave him cover + To lead his army up---- + + _Hud._ His army, sir? + + _Gol._ His followers---- + + _Hud._ There may be treachery + Uncapped among us. + + _Gol._ 'Twas by your advice + We gave them leave to camp---- + + _Hud._ I trusted fools! + Or traitors! You've a choice of names. + + _Off._ I beg + Your majesty to come with us. They'll fire + At any moment. + + _Hud._ Fire? Then we shall know + At last where we may find LeVal. You've wired + To Vardas, Golifet? He must despatch + The Federal Guards---- + + _Gol._ It is too late. + + _Hud._ Too late? + + _Maz._ We can not save the town. + + _Off._ The citizens + Are fleeing. Do not delay, your majesty! + + [_Fire of guns is heard_] + + _Hud._ Cowards! Before you fly, arrest that man. + Look to it, Golifet. You'll answer for him. + Let him be trebly guarded. + + _Gol._ Is not this + The missing lord, Prince Chartrien? + + _Hud._ Ay, that traitor! + + _Gol._ At this hot juncture, prudence must forbid + A needless insult to the enemy + That may too soon be master. + + _Hud._ Insult! + + _Gol._ Come, + My lord. + + _Hud._ By every god that was or is---- + + [_Guns again heard_] + + _Gol._ Please you, retire, your majesty! + + [_Men gather excitedly from different parts of the grove. Guests and + servants desert the house_] + + _Maz._ Come, come! + + [_A shell breaches the wall, rear. Stones fly among the trees. The + house is battered and portico torn away_] + + _Hud._ Grant me this favor. Let me be the last + To leave the Grove of Peace. Ha, ha! The last! + + _Her._ Come, father! + + _Hud._ Go! I've asked a favor, friends. + + [_They turn from him and pass slowly out. Hernda and Chartrien + remain_] + + _Her._ Now you will come? + + _Hud._ When _you_ have gone! Go, go! + + [_More shells. Chartrien carries Hernda away, lower left_] + + _Hud._ [_Alone, racked with pain_] My foe is nearer than those + feeble guns. + Bah! I could crush them! Here I am fordone. + No, no! I'll not surrender. I will live! + I'll keep my world. I fought for it, and won. + 'Tis mine! I will not leave it to these mice + To scramble over. [_The agony seizes him_] + A coward foe, that gives + No even chance. Strikes from the dark, with blade + Tempered secure in undiscovered fire. + ... Shall then the world go on and I not here? + I shall be here,--a pile of dust, no more,---- + That is the hell of hells,--while other dead, + Who made them souls here out of faith and clay, + Race on unflagging,--on and leave me still,-- + The everlasting mute!... Souls? That's a lie. + A ranting, tom-tom lie, to ease us on + The wheel. I'll none of that. The sick mind's pap! + Imagination's vent, lest misery + O'er-rack the world! Protective fume + Enclouding man's last grapple till none see + If he or Death be victor, and on the doubt + He rides to Heaven!... + ... Was 't truth that Chartrien spoke? + The race has found its eyes? Man is no more + A blind and hopeless struggler cornered fast + By ills unconquerable?--his lusting wars, + Diseases, hungers, Hudibrands? Then what + A chance was there, my heart? If I had fought + Upon his side!... _That_ battle would have made + Red Fate throw down her bludgeon,--won us place + To vanward of the gods!... If I had fought + With him.... Obstructive clod!... My God! _My_ God? + + [_He dies. Sunset has passed, and the darkness grows rapidly + until nothing is seen but the gleam of a fallen crown. + Curtain_] + + + * * * * * + + + + +A SON OF HERMES + +A COMEDY IN FIVE ACTS + + + + +_CHARACTERS_ + + + BIADES, _a young Athenian_ + PELAGON, _his uncle_ + SACHINESSA, _wife of Pelagon_ + PHANIA, _their daughter_ + SYBARIS, _a neighbor's daughter_ + CREON, _friend of Biades_ + AMENTOR, _a senator_ + MENAS, _friend of Pelagon_ + CLEARCHUS, _an Athenian youth disguised as a dancer_ + PHILON, _a priest_ + STESILAUS, _a lord of Sparta_ + PYRRHA, _his daughter_ + ARCHIPPE, _his wife_ + ALCANOR, _his son_ + LYSANDER, _friend of Stesilaus_ + HIERON, _a young Spartan_ + AGIS, LENON, GIRARDAS, _his friends_ + DIANESSA, MYRTA, THEONIS, NACIA, ARTANTE, _Spartan maidens_ + THE EPHORS + _Senators, citizens, soldiers, dancers, etc._ + + + + +ACT I + + +SCENE: _Pelagon's garden, Athens. Wall, rear, shutting off street. +Upper right, path to street gate. Upper and middle left, entrances to +Pelagon's house. Lower left, path to a neighbor's dwelling. Lower right, +path leading deeper into garden._ + + + [_Enter, upper left, Pelagon, Stesilaus and Lysander_] + + _Lys._ A gracious senate! If such welcome keys + The tune to come, then our ambassadry + Is concord's instrument, and we may bear + Fair music back to Sparta. + + _Ste._ Tut, the smiles + Of Athens are as flying leaves, divorced + From the tree's heart, as apt to light + On vagrancy as merit. + + _Pel._ Stesilaus + Bears hard as truth. Yet I was warmed to note + The council's greeting. + + _Ste._ Ever Sparta's friend! + + _Pel._ And friend of peace. The age no more can bear + The locked alarum of our rivalling States. + We must the groaning tussle bring to end, + Or ends the world. + + _Lys._ 'Twas wisdom's cue you gave us,-- + To say we had our Sparta's sovereign word + For Athens' terms. + + _Pel._ Ay, hold your embassage + Unstrictured, friends. In that lies flattery + Each lord will take to himself and thereon feed + A grace which will, in sort, come back to you. + What hour was fixed for answer? I lost that. + + _Lys._ The last hour of the sun. + + _Pel._ The crier stood + Wrong side of my good ear, and I'll not twist + To set the gossips nudging me to th' grave, + Robbed in a shrug of twenty grizzled years. + [_Looks about the garden_] + Where's Biades? He's always trailing here, + Save in the tick of need. I'd have him bid + The ambassadors lie at my house. Lysander, + You'll be my suitor to your comrades? Say + We've heart and room for all. + + _Lys._ For all, my lord? + + _Pel._ And more! + + [_Exit Lysander_] + + _Ste._ My Sparta thanks you, Pelagon. + + _Pel._ Nay, such an honor shall not pass me, sir. + Now where is Biades? + + _Ste._ Your nephew, friend? + + _Pel._ Ay, Stesilaus. Bar my blood in him, + He'll fasten on your heart. + + _Ste._ Report has been + Too dear his friend. What buzz about a youth + Of twenty-five! Sir, Attica is mad + To give him captainship. In Sparta now, + The spurring callant would be kept in ranks, + And yoked with Prudence till he learned her jog. + + _Pel._ In ranks! I see him! Well, just in your ear, + He sweeps a pretty curvet. With my wife + His slave, and Phania neck-deep in love, + He rides the very comb of my poor house. + If you would say to him, hold here or there, + I'd take it not amiss. But I do love him. + And now a bout with th' cook. The pest sends word + A double score of sudden guests are all + He'll have at table. Mine own table, sir! + Ha, there is Biades! He'll wait upon you. + Pray touch him as I've hinted. But no word + About our daughters, friend. We'll let that lie. + + [_Exit upper left. Enter Biades upper right_] + + _Bia._ Most noble Stesilaus, my heart greets you! + + _Ste._ Greeting to Biades, whom Athens makes + Her general! + + _Bia._ Would, my lord, this dignity + Were laid on senior years. Your Sparta's way + Is best,--to keep the cool, meridian bays + From youth-flushed brows. My moist and charmèd eyes + Spoke inward to my soul when they beheld + The ambassadors before the council, each + With staff unneeded, and gray locks that seemed + As wisdom's holy place. + + _Ste._ You sat with us? + I did not mark you there. + + _Bia._ I kept in modest shadow, + Which is youth's fairest mantle,--though my rank + Moves back for none. But, sir, the Spartan elders! + Ah, might I see more men in Athens who + Thus honor age, and age that honors men! + + _Ste._ Breathe that into your shrines. + + _Bia._ The gods who smile + On folly young, must weep when reverend years + And wisdom part. Mayhap you've noticed, sir, + In my good uncle here ... a falling off. + I would not speak but that I know your eyes + Can not keep curtain when the blabbing sun + Makes it no secret. + + _Ste._ Somewhat I have seen. + + _Bia._ Somewhat will grow to much ere you take leave. + + _Ste._ I fear it, Biades. + + _Bia._ And yet, my lord, + Time has not carried him ahead of you + More years than half a score. + + _Ste._ Tis t'other way. + I'm elder by that much. + + _Bia._ Not you, my lord? [_Muses flatteringly_] + The Spartan way is best. Was 't Pelagon + Led you to say you had full power to treat + With Athens? + + _Ste._ It was he. + + _Bia._ I thought it. [_Sighs_] Sir, + In the Athenian mind there dwells a child + No length of days can age. We do not grow + As Spartans. But our vanity's no dwarf. + Tops with the highest, you've some cause to know. + + _Ste._ What of 't? Unlatch! unlatch! + + _Bia._ The people, sir, + Always our rearward urge, knowing you've power + To assent to all they ask, will ask for more + Than all. + + _Ste._ Think'st that? + + _Bia._ In your brave time you've met + Athenians of the best. Didst ever know + One modest?--slow to ask for what he thought + His own?--or what he might by mere demand + Make his? + + _Ste._ They are well stomached,--true. No doubt + They'll press us far. + + _Bia._ They will. And if refused,-- + Well, they are children,--and must bite and scratch. + With strutting rage, may pelt you out of Athens. + But why not say you are in part empowered. + And must return to Sparta with the terms + Before a vowed conclusion? + + _Ste._ Late for that, + Young sir. The tongue we used to the Council + Must serve in the Assembly. We have said + We have full power. + + _Bia._ To treat, not to assent. + That was your word. + + _Ste._ Hmm! Now the cloud is off + The dunce's script, and I read clear why you + At twenty-five have Athens' voice to sail + 'Gainst Syracuse. + + [_Re-enter Pelagon_] + + _Bia._ No word unto my uncle! + + _Ste._ My brain will serve. + + _Pel._ They've come,--your comrades,--all! + If honor now were substance, my poor walls + Would groaningly unroof and beg the sky + For room to embrace it! Go you, Biades. + Repeat my welcome, with increase of grace + Your tongue is rich in. + [_Exit Biades, upper left_] + Now the full time comes. + We'll speak of that that's centre of our hearts,-- + Our daughters, friend. This is the hour that ends + A watch of twenty years. + + _Ste._ A patient score. + So long your daughter has been mine, so long + Has mine been yours. + + _Pel._ Like flower upon a stalk + Long nursed and tended, comes the end upon + This day of budding peace. You've had no whiff, + No hint untoward, that what we did had best + Been left undone? + + _Ste._ Sir, what I do, I do! + When we changed babes not past their cradle sleep, + My mind then glossed the act with comment fair + As our unfructured hope. So does it still. + By Nestor, though I'm thitherward of prime, + There's none will say that with accreted years + I moult sagacity! + + _Pel._ Eh, so! 'Twas well. + I've never doubted it. Here have I reared + Your Phania, Spartan-thewed, who now shall home + With Athens' gentle nurture in her veins + To hither yearn in blood of every son + She bears to Sparta. And you my Pyrrha bring + Back to her land to live a Spartan dame + Among Athenian mothers. So we feed + The unity we dream on,--quicken time, + Foresued, to give our tousing, touchy States + One civic heart. + + _Ste._ Has Sachinessa kept + A secret tongue? + + _Pel._ A nut not closer sits + About its kernel. And your wife, my friend? + What of Archippe? Did she hold for long + Against the exchange? + + _Ste._ She did. Nor ever learned + To love your Pyrrha. For that cause,--and that + Our even trust might move with even faith, + Nor odds of grace to you,--I've stood her guard, + And made her comrade where a son might claim + The dearest post. + + _Pel._ Good thanks, my Stesilaus. + From your wife's audit I'd not brush a doit, + But to the credit of my dame can set + A fairer sum. Æneas' curlèd lad + Lay not more dearly in his Dido's lap + Than your sweet Phania in the swaddling love + Of Sachinessa. Ay, she'll swear me now + That not to gain her own will she give up + Her foster darling. + + _Ste._ Humph! + + _Pel._ The little duck! + She has so chucked herself into my heart + 'Twill put me sad about to oust her. + + _Ste._ Duck! + When I lose Pyrrha, sir, that hour I lose + This good right arm! + + _Pel._ [_Meditative_] Hmm! So!... Come, my friend. + The dinner's toward, and the host astray. + The love's deep-vouched that puts such duty off + For one more word. [_Pauses as they move left_] + We'll give no open voice + To our most dear concern till we have met + Our daughters. + + _Ste._ [_Gloomy_] Met our daughters! Have it so. + + [_Exeunt upper left. Enter, middle left, Phania and Biades_] + + _Bia._ Come, Phania! The old cocks are off. + + _Pha._ They're gone? + + _Bia._ Good flitting too! I feared they'd perch till night, + Crowing the deeds of Stesilaus the Great + And Pelagon the Wise. + + _Pha._ These Spartans! If + They'd rest their clubs without the door, our shins + Would give them thanks. Why are we so besieged? + + _Bia._ Why, Phania, why? Because your father dotes + On dull and sodden peace that never was + Save in an old man's dream. We dine our foes! + The city must throw ope her gates, forsooth, + Lest the dear enemy should take some hurt + Scaling the walls! They'd bleed us as we sleep, + And Pelagon would vow the sword at 's throat + Were Sachinessa's dozing kiss. + + _Pha._ Ho, hear + The captain speak! You go to Syracuse, + And not content? 'Tis well there's one cries peace. + + _Bia._ What's Syracuse? To conquer Sparta,--that + Were warrior's work! Your father robs me of it, + Bringing the water where I set my fires. + But come! I've not made love to a soul to-day + Save ancient Sparta. Ha! it is an art + That should be spared such sweat. The Heavens mean + That I shall pull to yoke these two days left, + And love take beggar's chance. + + _Pha._ Ah, but two days! + + _Bia._ Come to our myrtle nook---- + + _Pha._ Nay, Sybaris + Might turn me out. That is her royal seat + When you'll play consort. + + _Bia._ What, my Phania? Dour? + Does Creon keep away? + + _Pha._ I'm not for him. + You know it, Biades. + + _Bia._ But he does not. + Too oft I find him here. + + _Pha._ And Sybaris + Comes out of count, knowing you like this spot. + Yon path is worn of every blade. + + _Bia._ Her feet + Can be so cruel? + + _Pha._ You love her still! + + _Bia._ Nay, sweet. + Not for three days. Believe me, cousin! + + _Pha._ _Cousin!_ + Athene save us! See her now,--the plague! + + _Bia._ By gentle Eros, Phania, we'll be kind. + I loved her once. + + _Pha._ How tall she is! + + _Bia._ Ay, moves + A very sylph! + + [_Sybaris comes on, lower right_] + + _Syb._ A fair day's greeting, friends! + + _Bia._ We double it for thee. + + _Pha._ My dearest Syb! + Do you turn snail, you keep your house so long? + Why, _hours_, I think! + + _Syb._ Indeed! + + _Bia._ Where lovers watch + The dial, that's an age. + + _Pha._ Oh, so! + + _Bia._ [_To Phania_] Do I + Not know? + + _Syb._ An age? Ay, love grows old and fades in 't. + + _Bia._ A thousand moons in journey o'er my love + Would leave 't no withered hour! By the fair soul + Of one who knows me true! + + _Syb._ That is no woman. + + _Pha._ A pretty oath! + + _Syb._ But not a new one, dear. + + _Bia._ Plead, Phania, dove! Let her not chide + Poor penitence on knee. In two days' time + I sail to war, yet stony Sybaris + Would break love's wings with doubt--put me aboard + With sighs to sink my ship---- + + _Pha._ Nay, Sybaris! + I'll vow him constant now. + + _Syb._ Inconstancy + Once stopped for breath, and fools came with a chair. + + _Bia._ No thaw in thee? Plead, Phania, sweet! Your lips + Are unimpeached where mine too oft have worn + Conviction's droop. + + _Pha._ Forgive, dear Sybaris! + + _Bia._ Ay, be my tongue! Tell her that as the bee + Betrays the honey-buds yet hiveward flies, + I've left all by-roads for the true home-path. + + _Syb._ Then you have trailed all others stale. There's none + Left new but that. + + _Bia._ Tell her when I have sailed + From Athens' eyes into the sun that eve + May skirt with blood---- + + _Pha._ No, no! + + _Bia._ --to walk with you + The haven's brim, watching the waves that throw + The sea-heart there, and know that from my ship + Pulses a heart to love's dream-sandalled feet + As constant as the sea to Athens' shore. + [_Sybaris moves relentingly nearer. Biades behind Phania, who sits on + bench, leans to talk into her ear, but keeps his eyes tenderly on + Sybaris_] + Ah, tell her, Phania, sleep is slow to come + Where warriors bed, and unforgiven hours + Are thorny comrades for an age-long night. + + _Syb._ Then here's my hand. Pray Pallas 'tis no fool's! + + _Bia._ Yours too, my Phania! In one breath I seal + Judge and defender mine! [_Kissing their hands_] + Now with my ship + Will prayers go tendant, mending every sail + That storm may batter. Typhon, whirl the sea + To insurrection,--send her meekest wave + To crinkle round the sun, and hiss from Heaven + The mariner's port-star,--I shall be safe + While I have implorators fair as ye + To melt the gods! + + _Syb._ Ah, Biades, thou must + Be loved or die. Is 't heart or vanity, + That's so insatiate? + + _Pha._ Nay, you have forgiven! + + _Syb._ But will not coo yet. Is that Creon comes? + [_Looking to upper right_] + You'll meet him, Phania? + + _Pha._ He knows his way. + + _Bia._ Has news! + I'll pick the pigeon. [_Goes up right_] + + _Pha._ O, my Sybaris, + Thanks for this generous peace! But who could long + Be harsh to Biades? + + _Syb._ Such steel's not in me. + I but stood off, a shadow of resolve, + To hear him woo me back. His coldest words + Are ta'en from music, but when warm in suit, + Then music sues to him. + + _Pha._ Woo _you_? Didst say + _Woo you_? Couldst think--couldst dream--couldst let blind sense + So flatter? + + _Syb._ Blind? Well, you've no eye to lend. + + _Pha._ His words were all for me, and through my heart + Were sifted to your ears. + + _Syb._ For you, my dear? + Now what a gosling 'tis! + + _Pha._ Oh! Ask him then! + + _Syb._ You'll beat that bush. I have no doubt in cover. + + [_Biades returns with Creon_] + + _Cre._ You'll not go out? + + _Bia._ No, friend. + + _Cre._ I warn you, sir! + It is your reputation left i' the street + That knocks for you. + + _Bia._ 'Twill care for itself. + + _Cre._ Nay, come! + Soon every ear in Athens will be crammed + Wi' the tale. + + _Syb._ What tale? + + _Cre._ 'Tis said that Biades + Was cap and spur to riot that defaced + The Hermæ yesternight. + + _Bia._ Denosed, you mean. + + _Pha._ O, do not jest! I tremble, Biades! + + _Cre._ You must o'ertake the lie, my lord, ere winds + Be up with 't. + + _Bia._ Let it fly, my Creon. When + Its wings are worn 'twill down for any heel + To trample. + + _Cre._ Not this feather. It broods on the air, + And its dark issue makes eclipse your sun + Can push no beam through. + + _Bia._ Sinon's pate has hatched + The ebon chick. + + _Cre._ You're not far out. He wants + The generalship. + + [_Enter Hippargus, upper right_] + + _Bia._ Here comes a tongue to market. + Most purchasable, tho' neither cut nor dried. + + _Cre._ The senate's messenger! + + _Bia._ Greeting, Hippargus. + + _Hip._ Greeting, my lord,--and I must lay command + On that, for you are charged on the instant to appear + Before the Council. + + _Bia._ The instant? Cramped to that? + And what to do there, sir? + + _Hip._ Give proof you touched + With no profaning and injurious hand + Our threshold gods. + + _Bia._ Go gently back, Hippargus, + And tell the senators I pardon them, + Knowing they do mistake. They would not lay + So dull an antic on me, and this charge + Is meant for Bico, my fat monkey here, + Whom they may have for trial. + + _Hip._ Spare such jest, + My worthy lord. A hundred tongues have sworn + You said in open street, nor cared who heard, + The guardian Hermæ might be nipped of ears, + And noses too, yet serve our pious turn, + Since they smell out no faults and citizens + Confess none. + + _Bia._ Ah! Do they make wit a crime, + Who have no taint of its color? Say 'twere red + The senators would never be mistook + For woodpeckers. Gods! When they prate, I know + Athene's owl is stuffed, and her wise serpent + An old-year slough! Off now! Your pannier's full. + Trot and unpack. + + [_Exit Hippargus_] + + _Cre._ Out! Follow, and deny + This answer! Dare you, standing on the top + And slippery point of fortune, throw your cap + In Heaven's face? + + _Bia._ Dare I do less? No, friend. + The Council fears me, and would see me down. + My power is in the people, who for gold + And merry flattery give me their love. + But now they're on the quibble how to turn, + To me or Sinon. I'll not let them see + My office brought to question, and myself + Outfaced by perjurers in Sinon's keep. + Nay, when they find I'm not the senate's groom, + But know myself, their pride will know me too, + And I shall go to bed as I rose up, + The Athenian general. + + _Cre._ The street will bellow. + I'll listen to it, and pick interpretation + From 'ts roar. You'll come with me? + + _Bia._ Though oracles, + On every curb and step, begged audience, + I'd not go out. + + [_Exit Creon_] + + _Pha._ Oh, me! + + _Bia._ Why so? I'm not a hare + To jump because a leaf falls. Wag the hour, + And Pleasure wait on us! If she fill not + My cup to-day, I fear it must go empty + A good twelvemonth. There are fair maids + In Syracuse, but they'll peer on me through + A crimson lattice. + + _Pha._ You'll not see them, sir! + Or break a thousand oaths! So oft you've sworn + No beauty out of Athens could persuade + Your eyes to worship. + + _Syb._ Then the Spartan maid + Lodged here will let him sleep. + + _Bia._ What maid is this? + + _Pha._ Why, Pyrrha,--Stesilaus' daughter. + + _Bia._ Here? + + _Pha._ Ay, everybody's here. + + _Syb._ I saw her leave + The chariot. Such clothes! + + _Pha._ _No_ clothes, you mean! + + _Syb._ [_In shocked aside_] Just to the knees! + + _Pha._ And open to the hips! + + _Syb._ You say it! + + _Pha._ And manners, none. I took her nuts + And sugared poppy seeds. She said she kept + No parrot. + + _Syb._ Here's a guest! + + _Pha._ And when I said + I _lived_ on them---- + + _Bia._ My dainty! + + _Pha._ --then she asked + If that made me so little! + + _Bia._ Ay, they feed + To grow in Sparta. Breed but monsters there. + No arts, no grace, no soft and tendrilled speech + That creeps to ends of being and looks back + Exultant and afraid. They are not men, + But, wearing human port, would force on us + A beastly comradeship. Set me to woo + A toad bred in a ditch of Attica, + But not a maid of Sparta! Were she fair + As was Persephone when she drew the god + From nether earth, yet sprung from that hard soil, + I'd let her beauty pass. + + _Syb._ Hist, Biades! + She's yonder. + + [_They look middle left, where Pyrrha appears_] + + _Pha._ I like the garden best when 't wears + Pale Cybele's gown. Apollo makes it harsh + In black and gold--Ah, Pyrrha! You have found + Our blossomy corner. Welcome to it, and know + My neighbor, Sybaris,--and Biades. + + _Pyrr._ I greet you, friends of Athens. + + _Pha._ Will you sit? + + _Bia._ [_Who has not removed his gaze from her since her entrance_] + A walk! That was your wish. + I'll show the paths. + + _Syb._ Nay, here's a seat. + + _Bia._ There's Artystone's rose, + Brought from the Mysian stream---- + + _Pha._ She'll stay with us. + + _Bia._ The ivory cup of Isis, where each night + Her one tear falls,--and flowers whose sisters blow + In walled Ecbatana. + + _Syb._ Come, sit by me, + Dear Pyrrha. + + _Pyrr._ I would see the garden. + + _Syb._ [_Rising_] Would? + We'll guide you then. + + _Pha._ Ay, who would dawdle here? + + _Bia._ But rest a moment, Pyrrha. I mind me now, + That from this spot the eye may best o'ersweep + The full design. Yon mass of planes---- + + _Pyrr._ I'll walk + Alone. [_Moves off, lower right_] + + _Syb._ Well! + + _Pha._ Said I not? + + _Syb._ Does nothing that + She's asked! And stares as though a woman's eyes + Were made to see with, when their chiefest use + Is not to see! + + _Pha._ Crude as her Spartan rocks! + + _Bia._ I'll follow. + + _Syb._ Nay, she'd _walk alone_! + + _Bia._ She's Athens' guest. + I'll not be rude, whatever lack in her + Provokes me to it. + + _Pha._ Nor shall I, by all + The grace in th' world! + + _Syb._ You shame us, Biades. + We'll go with you. + + [_Each taken an arm of Biades as he goes right. Pelagon enters, upper + left_] + + _Pel._ Daughter, this way! + + [_Phania returns reluctantly. The others pass off, right_] + + _Pel._ My chick,-- + Nay, I'll be brief. I know young feet would flock. + + _Pha._ O, father dear, I'd please you first! [_Kissing him_] + + _Pel._ Well, well!... + You've seen Lord Stesilaus? + + _Pha._ Just a peek. + + _Pel._ Nay, he's no bear. + + _Pha._ He'll bite though. I know that. + + _Pel._ Now, Phania, now! I have a reason, miss, + A most dear reason you should win the love + Of Stesilaus. + + _Pha._ Love! + + _Pel._ I mean, my duck, + A father's gentle love. + + _Pha._ But, daddy, he's---- + So tall! + + _Pel._ He has a heart, my daughter. + + _Pha._ Fum! + Are you so sure? + + _Pel._ Find it the shortest way. + Remember he's your--hmm!--remember--hmm!-- + That he's a man--as I am--and his pride + But April frost. Be as he were myself---- + + _Pha._ As you? Oh, dear! [_Under his arm_] + And must I cuddle so? + Nay, that's for my own fa-fa! + + _Pel._ Little Phania! + I'll lose my pipit,--lose my bonny bird! + + _Pha._ Lose me? O, never, daddy, never! I'm + Your pipsey, wipsey, umpsey, ownty own! + + _Pel._ [_Resolutely_] Wait here. I'll send him by. + + _Pha._ But, father, why---- + + _Pel._ Nay, that's my secret. Not for little birds. + + [_Exit upper left. Phania waits until he disappears, then turns + flying, and vanishes lower right. Archippe and Sachinessa + enter, middle left_] + + _Sac._ Blest be Athene, there's nobody here! + The house is overrun, and Pelagon + Has twenty shadows, one at every door. + Out, in,--in, out,--with ears like aprons held + For every whisper! Here we're safe to talk. + + _Arc._ O, dearest Sachinessa, what's to do? + + _Sac._ We'll go to Philon. If he says confess---- + + _Arc._ Confess? I'll never do it! I will take + What way he will but that, though 't be the one + Leads out of life. You do not know my lord! + + _Sac._ Your Stesilaus is no god, Archippe. + I'll tell you that. + + _Arc._ If it should come to him + We never changed our daughters! If he learns + That twenty years I've made him wear the hood, + His roof no more would shade me. Nay! Confess? + Oh, Sachinessa, I should lose him quite! + + _Sac._ That could be borne, I think. + + _Arc._ But lose my Pyrrha? + Be driven out from her? See her no more? + + _Sac._ There, friend, you stir me. Such a piece of man! + To strike like that because a woman's wit + Has clipped his own! He's not suspected you + In all these years? + + _Arc._ Not once. I've watched myself + As I were my own jailer, fenced my heart, + And made my love a thief that gave my child + No open looks, but by her bed at night + Stole comfort as she slept. + + _Sac._ Not I, Archippe! + I've laughed above the snores of Pelagon, + Knowing my darling near, whom he thought far + As Sparta. Come! You're taller by a head + Than I, yet die with quaking. And I thought + Each Lacedæmon wife a lioness. + + _Arc._ Ah, but their lords are lions. + + _Sac._ Well, they've mane + Enough, but they'd not shake it in my face. + + _Arc._ Will you confess? + + _Sac._ Why, no. For Pelagon + Would play the spousal saint, sit on the clouds, + And with a piety intolerable + Forgive his perjured wife. What soul could bear it? + But I'll not part with Phania, know you that! + + _Arc._ What then? + + _Sac._ We'll go to Philon. How to keep + Our secret and our daughters,--that's a nut + To break the oracle's teeth. + + _Arc._ If 't can be done! + + _Sac._ It must be done, Archippe. Come,--I hear + A chatter. This way out. + + [_They leave, upper right. Biades, Pyrrha, Sybaris, and Phania enter + lower right_] + + _Pha._ What of our garden, + Now all is seen? + + _Pyrr._ Here gods should live, not men. + At every turn I seemed to lose the step + Of a departing deity. + + _Syb._ We are content + With our Athenian lords, and seek no charm + To turn them into gods. + + _Bia._ [_Showing a locket_] I've here a charm + Does more than that. This jewel webbed + In mystic rings--and set---- + + _Syb._ The Persian gem! + You promised me---- + + _Bia._ It is a magic stone, + That gazed upon by a true-minded maid---- + + _Pha._ [_Securing the trinket_] I'll see it, sir! + I've heard you vow your bride + Should wear this locket. + + _Bia._ [_To Phania_] So she shall. + [_To Sybaris_] None else! + [_To Pyrrha_] + You hear my oath. Come, Sybaris, sit here + And, Phania,--come! You both shall peep at fate + Through a ruby portal, if your hearts be true. + Now fix your look---- + + _Pha._ We'll see the same! + + _Bia._ Not so. + Each fortune's connate with the gazer's star, + And tinted as she dreams. Direct your eyes + With flawless constancy, or you'll see naught. + + _Pha._ Not lift them once? + + _Bia._ Nay, fasten every thought + Deep in the jewel's fire, till I have said + The Persian chant of welcome to the spirit + Whose magic you shall see. + + _Pha._ A spirit? Oh! + + _Bia._ But she is fair,--framed as divinity + For adoration. + + _Syb._ She! + + _Bia._ Lift not your eyes. + + [_Stands behind Phania and Sybaris and makes the incantation an ardent + address to Pyrrha_] + + Spirit of Fate, what mystical wooing + May win thee to pause where we pray? + Misers of Dream their locks are undoing,-- + Mistress of Keys, wilt thou stay? + + Priestess, thyself, O fairer than dreaming, + Art deity's answer to prayer! + Dusk in thine eyes is the seer-burthen gleaming, + And moon-wands at rest in thy hair. + + Far-foot Desire is lost in the winding + Of valleys and gardens of thee! + Hoop of white arms is circumferent binding + The star-pastured world and me! + + [_Sybaris throws the locket at his feet. He turns and sees that she + and Phania have risen and are staring at him_] + + _Pyrr._ [_After a silence_] I do not know this game. Will leave you to it. + [_Exit, middle left_] + + _Syb._ And I'll go home! [_Exit, lower left_] + + _Pha._ And I'll go tell my father! + [_Exit, upper left_] + + _Bia._ And I'll go stand in th' donkey mart and bray + Till a farmer buys me! Witched, and by a Spartan! + Mad as the fleeing ass of Thessaly! [_Exit, upper right_] + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE: _The same as first act, a few minutes later. Phania in discovered +in rear. Stesilaus walks frozenly back and forth, front, while she +timidly advances and retreats._ + + + _Pha._ [_Approaching_] I'm Phania, sir. + + _Ste._ [_Looks at her incredulously, then walks left, leaving her centre_] + My blood and bone in that! + What dwarf-dish has she fed on? Ugh! + + _Pha._ [_Crossing_] I've come + To walk with you. You like our garden, sir? + We've bulbuls in it,--and wee, visiting wings + From the unknown south. Can see them if you watch + A place I know. They dart like breathing bits + Of chrysoprase and sard o' the sun. + + _Ste._ Humph! You + Are Phania? + + _Pha._ [_Braver_] Troth, I am! Wilt see a nest-- + So small as--that! Could put it on your thumb. + [_Takes his hand_] + I'll show you, sir. Don't you love _little_ things? + They wiggle to the heart, my daddy says. + You love my _daddy_, don't you? + + _Ste._ Ugh! Your--Ugh! + + _Pha._ [_Defensive_] _I_ love him,--yes, and all his friends. I do, + Though they're--so tall. I come just to your beard. + See now! [_Leans against him_] + + _Ste._ Get off! You squeaking pewit! Ugh! + + _Pha._ [_Quiveringly_] Have I displeased you, sir? + + _Ste._ Displeased me? No. + You make contentment creep on honored bones + Far back as Lacedæmon's earliest grave + That opened for my house. You turn my blood + That's not yet earthed, and hot as Sparta's pride, + To drops that mutiny 'gainst their own succession + And beg to be the end. Displeased? Oh, no! + [_Retires, rear_] + + _Pha._ Oh, sir---- + + [_Fails, and goes off weeping, lower right. Enter, upper right, Biades + and Creon_] + + _Cre._ But this confusion, many-throated, + Has single voice and warns articulate. + A treasonous tempest rises, and you stand + A god indifferent when you should bethink + Yourself most mortal. Vilest mouths puff bold + In Sinon's service. You must wax your way + To th' Council---- + + _Bia._ Nay, no bending there! + + _Cre._ But---- + + _Bia._ Peace! + Here's Stesilaus! He's most heavy shipped. + What is aboard? And now comes Pelagon, + With 's threshing-tongue a-ready. Chaff will fly. + + [_Enter Pelagon, upper left_] + + _Pel._ What thinkst of Phania? Is she not a chick? + + _Ste._ You've tricked me, Pelagon! What fubbery + Have you put on me? + + _Pel._ Sir? Now, now! Why, friend! + + _Ste._ That's not my daughter! + + _Bia._ [_Drawing Creon back_] Whist! + + _Ste._ I'll see my own! + _My_ Phania! Not that bib,--that mewling piece, + With th' milk still in her mouth! + + _Pel._ Speak so of her? + A bud in th' dew! A cherry next its leaf! + A pippin on the limb! + + _Ste._ Not mine, I say! + + _Pel._ If you repent you did beget her, sir, + I'll be your shift and own the curtained deed + 'Fore man and Heaven. + + _Ste._ That my child? + + _Pel._ Yours, friend. + + _Ste._ Would she had never left Archippe's lap + For Sachinessa's! Patience, cool my tongue! + But I've done better by your Pyrrha! + + _Pel._ Soft, + Beseech you, Stesilaus! Here's no place + For trumpeting our secret. And brief time + Forbids it present voice. The hour is on + To hear the people's answer. Come, my lord. + Your comrades go before you. We're past late. + + _Ste._ Friend Pelagon, though courtesy be pressed + To th' kibe, I'll urge you keep at home. 'Tis best + You be not seen in this. The lords, who know + You lean to Sparta,--and for that all thanks,-- + Are pricked therewith to oppose us, when they else + Might voice us favor. + + _Pel._ Ay, they know me, friend. + My eye sets them at guard. They feel it, sir! + Puts them on screw. Well, so,--I'll stay behind. + But let me set you forth. [_Exeunt, upper right_] + + _Bia._ Is 't trick, or truth? + + _Cre._ Touch me! A needle's point + Could find no spot amazement hath not taken! + + _Bia._ Didst hear it Creon? Pyrrha an Athenian! + O, words of miracle, if ye be true,-- + Friend, friend, I'm in a whirl upon a way + To use this strange unearthment for the good + Of Athens. You'll be silent. Creon? + + _Cre._ Nay, + I think---- + + _Bia._ And now I've lost fair Phania! + + _Cre._ Lost? + + _Bia._ With Mars i' the dusk of this debated time, + The Athenian general may not wive himself + With Sparta. + + _Cre._ True! + + _Bia._ I might give up command, + And be no more my country's armored watch.... + Nay, Attica is first! That's sworn. I'll plunge + The sacrificial knife deep as my love. + And now 'tis done. Ah, Creon, tend thee well + My gentle loss. + + _Cre._ This sets thee o'er thyself! + O noblest bounty that in grace compeers + With emulous Heaven! What in me can pay---- + + _Bia._ No more of 't now. But what a secret this! + If 't solely were my own-- + + _Cre._ It is, my lord! + 'Tis yours. I have no speech, no tongue for 't! + + _Bia._ Thanks, + My Creon, thanks! And will you go once more + To th' street, where now it seems I have some need + Of loyal ears? + + _Cre._ I serve you, Biades. [_Exit, upper right_] + + _Bia._ Fast hooked, and feels no barb. If he'll lie dark + Till I would stir the waters.... Is it truth? + Pyrrha! Athenian born and Spartan bred! + By Mars and Eros! Here's a captain's bride! + There's flutter in me like a forest shook + With waking birds! + + [_Re-enter Phania, still weeping_] + + _Bia._ Why, Phania! Such a shower, + My kitkin! + + _Pha._ Stesilaus sh-shook me so! + Called me a sque-e-aking pewit! + + _Bia._ Ha! He did? + Well, listen to me, Phania. Come, look up. + [_Lifts her chin_] + A maid with little eyes should never weep. + Leave that to Juno orbs. They swim in sorrow + Like full moons in a lake, but beads like yours + Are only bright when dry. Shun grief as you + Shun mud. [_Exit, middle left_] + + _Pha._ [_Gasping_] Why--Biades--he's gone! + He said---- + Oh, oh! If I could die---- + + [_Sobs with abandon. Enter Alcanor, upper left. He pauses before + her. She looks up bewildered_] + + _Alc._ Ah, gentle star, + What shrouds thee in this rain? Yet thou'rt not hid. + Thy beauty shining on these clouds of pearl + Makes every drop that dies reflecting thee + A little, falling sun. + + _Pha._ Oh, Biades said---- + He said--he said---- + + _Alc._ If what he said so troubles, + Let me unsay it with a kiss that makes + Trouble forgot and dumb. [_Kisses her_] + + _Pha._ [_On his bosom_] I'm not--I'm not-- + Not _ugly_, sir? + + _Alc._ O, dove of Aphrodite! + Earth stores her beauty in this single face, + That she may show one jewel to the skies + When gods boast they have all! + + [_Phania purrs comfortedly, then releases herself_] + + _Pha._ How dare you, sir, + Attack me? Who are you? + + _Alc._ I do not know. + + _Pha._ Not know? + + _Alc._ Nothing of self or where I am. + It may be those are trees on giant guard, + And these bright peeping things are flowers' eyes, + And this is happy grass we stand upon, + And that blue watcher is the faithful sky, + But I know naught except my soul is yours, + O, maid-magician, in whose snare I lie + Kissing the net that binds me! [_Kissing her fallen curls_] + + _Pha._ But you know + Your name! + + _Alc._ Not in this world a minute old + That now I find me in, but in time past + I was Alcanor, Stesilaus' son. + + _Pha._ O!--then--why--all is well! You're noble, sir! + My father will approve you. + + _Alc._ Hast a father? + And art not magic-born? Then I perceive + I must go back and find my earthly wits. + + _Pha._ Nay, he is Pelagon, your father's friend. + + _Alc._ You're Phania, then! + + _Pha._ [_Giving her hand_] I am. + + _Alc._ No more than this? + No kiss? + + _Pha._ [_Very shy_] You've had it, sir. + + _Alc._ A phantom one! + 'Twas in a dream, as two ghost-lovers meet + On an Elysian path. Too cold for earth! + + _Pha._ [_Touching her cheek_] Nay, it is warm here yet. + + [_He takes her in his arms, and they withdraw lower right. Pelagon + enters, upper right, in time to witness the embrace_] + + _Pel._ [_Rousing from his horror_] Her brother! Gods! + Whip me all hagglers! We have stood so long + At door of our confession that this shame + Gets by us. Phania and Alcanor! Oh! + No shuffling now! When Stesilaus comes, + The tale must out! + + [_Enter Pyrrha, middle left. She crosses, passing Pelagon, who retreats + rear, unseen by her. She loiters right_] + + _Pel._ Here's opportunity + At beck. I'll follow. [_Advances_] Ahem! My daughter,---- + + _Pyrr._ Sir? + You seek your daughter? I will look this way. + [_Goes farther right_] + + _Pel._ I must advance, and take her Spartan guard + With gentleness. My love, 'tis you I seek. + + _Pyrr._ [_Stiffly_] You'd speak to me? + + _Pel._ My little Pyrrha,---- + + _Pyrr._ Little! + + _Pel._ I think of Phania. In my heart you both + Hold undivided place. Shall we not chat a bit, + My Pyrrha? + + _Pyrr._ Kitchen maids do that, not men + Of State. + + _Pel._ Nay, there's a time when one may cast + The civic garment and take household ease + In modest robe. + + _Pyrr._ [_Aside_] A swaddling band would fit him! + + _Pel._ You will not hear me? + + _Pyrr._ I wait upon you, sir. + For if your hostship I forget, and leave + The fees of grace unpaid, I yet must know + You are my father's friend. Say what you will, + My lord. + + _Pel._ That word undears me! Let your tongue + Breach colder custom and give me a name + That brings me near in love as Stesilaus. + Wilt call me father, Pyrrha? + + _Pyrr._ [_Retreating_] You, my lord? + + _Pel._ They've frozen her, poor child! Must blow more warm. + Indeed a father. Call me what I am, + For so I love you, Pyrrha. + + _Pyrr._ Is it thus + The Athens sages talk? + + _Pel._ Ay, we're not cut + Of ice as Spartans are. Here your poor heart + Shall know what sun is, and the Springs you've lost, + Betrayed without a bloom in frigid Sparta, + In Athens shall blow fair. You are amazed, + My sweet, but by this kiss---- + + _Pyrr._ [_Giving him a blow_] You goose-eyed goat! + I strike not at your years, Lord Pelagon, + But at your mind which has not come of age + And gives me elder right. + + [_Exit, middle left. While Pelagon is recovering, enter Stesilaus, + upper right_] + + _Pel._ [_Welcoming the interruption_] You, Stesilaus? + So soon, friend, from the Assembly? + + _Ste._ Late, sir, late! + More haste had been more prudence. + + _Pel._ Why, why, why! + + _Ste._ Where is your buttery nephew, Biades? + Who slips to the seat of question and melts all + Into one potch of folly! + + _Pel._ But I'd know---- + + _Ste._ Why I am here, not there? A crater mouth + That calls itself a people hissed eruption + Into my face, and without bow I set + My back to 't, sir! + + _Pel._ Blame me for all! I knew + I should not stay behind! The gods do know + I am the voice of Athens. 'Tis no pride + That speaks bare truth. I'll go---- + + _Ste._ Tuh, tuh! + A word with Biades---- + + _Pel._ But not too sharp, + My friend. He is of weight---- + + _Ste._ No sharper than + My stick! Then I set out for Sparta, where + The very ground knows Stesilaus walks! + + _Pel._ And Phania goes with you? + + _Ste._ Not if the chit + May corner in your kitchen! She's worth that. + + _Pel._ You'll leave her here? + + _Ste._ It will content me. I'll + Surrender both. + + _Pel._ What? Both! Nay, your free heart + Shall not outdo my own. + + _Ste._ You'll give me Pyrrha? + + _Pel._ Friend of my soul, I will! + + _Ste._ [_Moved_] Thanks, Pelagon. + She's dearer than my son. More like my blood. + Alcanor is too soft and woman-lipped. + Too much Archippe in him from his birth, + Nor blows could drive it out. + + _Pel._ And mine own eyes + Have seen a cooing match between himself + And Phania. + + _Ste._ Zeus! His sister! + + _Pel._ While we speak, + The fated pair are yonder---- + + _Ste._ I'll get him home! + And leave the witch to you! Had I a doubt + To hold me back, this turn would be + Decision's point. She must stay here. + + _Pel._ But how + Make answer to our wives? Our wisdom's nicked + Where it is tenderest if we confess. + + _Ste._ What's to confess? I know my will and do it. + + _Pel._ Ay, ay, you bear your wife in a sack, but mine + Is on her feet and goes her pace. Look yon! + They come together! A brace, and one of them + Would tie my tongue. + + _Ste._ Tie water in a brook! + + [_Archippe and Sachinessa enter upper right_] + + _Sac._ We do not come to shame you, noble lords + And husbands, though we've that to bear which put + To honest ballad would uncrest your pride + And clip a reef or two from the tall sail + Of dignity. + + _Ste._ Why, madam, this approach? + + _Sac._ I walk, sir, in my garden when I please. + + _Arc._ We have a suit, my honored lords, which you + May think full strange, remembering our prayers + Of twenty years ago. + + _Ste._ What suit canst have? + If you must try the goose-step out of doors, + Go thank the gods for suiting you with me, + Who save you from all suit by hearing none. + + _Sac._ Not hear us, sir? I'll catch you by the ears + And shake the pride-wool out, but you shall hear! + Suited with you! And then go thank the gods! + + _Pel._ Why, Sachinessa, love! What you, duck? + + _Sac._ This, Pelagon. When in that sad year gone + You took my child from me---- + + _Pel._ What? That again? + + _Sac._ Not that, but this. I did not stay you then, + Being young in wedlock and my wit at cheep + In its first feathers. But this second time + When you lift up your hand to cut the bough + Whose root is in my heart, I'll speak so loud + That if your dull ear miss, I'll reach you yet + By way o' the stars that will cry back my wrong + When they so hear it. + + _Pel._ You would beg for Phania? + + _Sac._ I would. There is no source of love so great + As brooding care. That makes the mother, not + The childing pangs. Though she, from the first hour, + Will cherish what she must so dearly buy, + 'Tis day by watchful day her swelling love + Is born. So I, as new days past, forgot + The child of my brief pain, and gave to one + That nestled in her place my care-born love. + Now you would strike again---- + + _Pel._ Sweet, by my soul,-- + Nay, Sachinessa, dearest heart, be calm. + Your words have never in our mated life + Moved me as now. If Stesilaus yields, + And his stern will be broken by your plea, + I am content. + + _Ste._ I'm so far moved, my friend, + That I will hear Archippe speak her wish. + Her love for Pyrrha will not match with that + Your wife bestows on Phania. + + _Arc._ Ay, my lord, + I've never loved the stranger as my own, + But she is dearer than my own grown strange. + I see in Phania all my tender loss, + But it is lost forever. Give me, Pyrrha. + I have no other daughter. + + _Ste._ Keep her, dame. + But make this weakness not your heckling ground + Where you would spar for favors. No more suits! + + _Pel._ And, Sachinessa, hear the same from me. + + _Sac._ You borrow feathers and I'll twitch 'em out! + + _Ste._ [_To Archippe_] Lest you should badger, footed safe on this, + Know that my judgment's not earwigged by you + To this repeal, but now configures pat + To the act itself, that keeps a constant step + With our first purpose. Our intent comes out + With even edges, though reversed in face. + An Athens' maid shall be a Spartan mother, + And here shall dwell a dame of Spartan blood. + + _Pel._ You hear it, Sachinessa. I'm not one + To throw my pack away in sight of home. + Come mud, come mire, I bear my judgment out, + As Athens knows. + + _Sac._ I'll swear to it there's no man + I' the city better hides the sun with a sieve! + + _Ste._ And secondly, my dame, know that I've won + My high contention that the laws of Sparta + Are best for brooding earth a godlike race. + For here my proof enroots in warmest life + That they can aggrandize the chalky veins + Of pampered Attica to ducts that bear + The red, unconquered sap of Lacedæmon. + + _Sac._ So Pyrrha is your proof! + + _Ste._ No question there. + A weak, Athenian babe grows up the pride + Of Sparta, while a budling of her own, + Nursled by Athens' soft and careless shift, + Scarce grows to woman's level---- + + _Sac._ Why, you puffed---- + You pride-blown---- + + _Arc._ Come with me! + + _Sac._ But such a bladder! + He'd top a flood into the second world + And wet but half his skin! + + _Arc._ Nay, Sachinessa, + Our suit is won. No words! We'll haste once more + To Philon's shrine. For this dear joy I'll bend + A willing knee. Come, come! + [_Draws her away, upper right_] + + _Pel._ [_Capering_] Could reel it now + Like school-boy 'scaped a whipping! + + _Ste._ Shame! Your years + Will blush. [_Goes left_] Now Biades, and then farewell! + + _Pel._ Ah, there's my mourning cloak! I'll go at once + To th' Council, and---- + + _Ste._ Vain labor, Pelagon. + + _Pel._ Nay, I will stir them! + + [_Exit, upper right. Biades enters left. He is arrayed in a purple + gown with long train held up by his monkey. A peacock fan swings + from a girdle, and jewels dangle from his ears. He carries a + scroll from which he reads as he walks, tittering over the + matter. Stesilaus watches him curiously, then amazedly recognizes + him_] + + _Ste._ Biades! Is 't he? + May eyes report it to a brain unshaken? + ... Ho, sir,--or madam? + + _Bia._ Did you speak, my lord? + Your pardon! I was buried here,--quite drowned + I' the honey of this tale. Sir, it suggests,-- + But that's not it,--the style, so quaint, so pure,-- + It plays with thoughts and leaves them bright as shells + The sea has polished to their curling edges. + You'll hear this line? 'Tis worth a pause. Eh, not? + You've never wooed the script? Ah, I forget. + War is the art of Sparta. + + _Ste._ Are you man? + + _Bia._ What's that to an artist, sir? Life in me packs + The germinal grain of all, and what may come + To birth and bloom, I leave to nursing Fate. + But you seem ruffled,--warm. Pray have my fan. + Then take my parchment,--sit you in this nook + And read of Corys and his water-nymph + Until the charm of an unhurrying world + Steals wave-like round you. + + _Ste._ Olympus! Was 't this voice + That tripped my reason? Led my cautious years + To take instruction from a dizzened ape + And lose the cause they guarded? Was 't myself + So slubbered judgment---- + + _Bia._ Ah, must I believe + You honored my good counsel? + + _Ste._ Good! + + _Bia._ 'Twas good + For Athens. Ha, you slipped into the noose + As easily as my finger takes this ring. + A wondrous sapphire here. You know the stone? + This is from Egypt,--has the desert fire + 'Neath Nilus' liquid smile. Is 't not a treasure? + But I forget. Your Sparta has no gems. + By Hera's belt, your country goes too bare + For this adornèd earth! + + _Ste._ Come, Biades! + Throw off that gown, and with a captain's sword + Deny this folly! + + _Bia._ Friend, 'tis not my hour + For exercise. Our moods, I see, would quarrel. + But here's my thornless world. You'll pardon me. + + [_Resumes walking and reading as before. Pyrrha enters, middle left, + and stands watching him. He looks up and is struck motionless to + find her eyes upon him. She comes nearer for a detached scrutiny, + then crosses right_] + + _Ste._ Find me Alcanor, daughter. And this hour + We leave for Sparta. + + _Pyrr._ I am ready, sir. + + [_Exit, lower right. Stesilaus goes into house, upper left_] + + _Bia._ She has good eyes, and used them. Overshot, + By Hermes! I must follow,--'twixt this fool + And meditation's eye must interpose + My soldier self! + + [_Tears off robe, under which he wears a simple, belted tunic, flings + jewels from his ears, and drives out Bico. Goes off, lower right. + Enter Pelagon, much ruffled, from street_] + + _Pel._ Where's Stesilaus? Stesilaus, ho! + Find Stesilaus! + [_Stesilaus returns, upper left_] + O, my friend, they're mad, + And you must fly! I never was so battered! + The senators cry out you played with them + As though their stationed honors were a row + Of last year's weanlings,--first to say you bore + Full power to treat, then at their open answer + To cover and prefer the opposite, + Declaring that their noble terms must cool + On th' road to Sparta! As I speak your comrades + Are driven through the gates. You must not stay. + They'll have your life, they are so worked. Come, come! + I know a way--I'll get you through---- + + _Ste._ I'll go + The way I came. + + _Pel._ Nay, nay, I'll slip you out! + Leave here your wife and daughter. In gentler hour + I'll send them after, with your son,-- + + _Ste._ I'll speak + To Pyrrha---- + + _Pel._ No! This way! The world's at somersault! + The turtle's on his back, his claws to Heaven! + No one would hear me! _Me!_ The voice of Athens! + And jeered me down, for I was Biades' kin,-- + Though why the wind sits so I know not! + Come--come--I was so battered---- + + [_Exeunt, upper left. Pyrrha and Biades enter, lower right_] + + _Bia._ But one word! + + _Pyrr._ I've let you shower words in hope to drain + Your breath of them, but they grow to a hail. + Pelt me no more, Athenian. + + _Bia._ O, that name + I held my pearl of honor is become + A wounding thorn! I'll wear 't no more. + + _Pyrr._ You'll be + A Spartan? + + _Bia._ Ay, if you are one! + + _Pyrr._ So vows + An Athens' captain. + + _Bia._ Nay, I have no place, + No rank, no office, duty or pursuit, + But this my gage is in. Nor rest till I have won! + + _Pyrr._ Then you'll die weary, sir. So long 'twill take + To make me yours. + + _Bia._ If you will love my shade + I'll on the instant make myself a ghost! + + _Pyrr._ Love's burning deeds do ever lie before him. + He ne'er gets past to make them history. + + _Bia._ O, hear my oath! Thy birthland shall be mine! + + _Pyrr._ Whist, Biades! The gods might hear you too. + + _Bia._ I'll swear it in the ears of Zeus! + + _Pyrr._ By what + Irreverenced deity wilt break it? + + _Bia._ Ah, + By none, fair Pyrrha! I'll stake my golden part + In love's eternity, no land's more dear + To my own heart than that which gave you birth. + + _Pyrr._ Ay, for on Spartan soil the laurel grows + Which you would pluck from drenched defeat and set + Among your bays. So dear as that! + + [_A clamor is heard in street_] + + _Bia._ I'll woo + In better time. Till then let this pure gem + Speak for me on your breast. 'Tis like my love, + No sudden thing. For as this captive fire + Dreamed in the heart of earth and could not wake + Till beauty born in man sent down his kiss, + So lay my love in Life from her first breath, + Deep as unconsciousness, till at your step + It knew itself. You scorn the half-hour flame, + But in your coming like an instant dawn + Find all its brevity. Ay, Pyrrha, sweet! + And let my token lie, a patient prayer, + Upon your bosom. Heaven should have its sun! + + [_Drops the locket into the folds of her dress. She casts it to the + ground_] + + _Pyrr._ Athens is such a sun, and Sparta as my foot + Shall overcloud it! [_Exit, middle left_] + + _Bia._ Had she crushed my gem + To bleeding dust, I'd pay it o'er to see + Such flame unsheathe. Bright Eos necklaced with + A darkling east could not more beauteously + Threat earth with storm. [_Takes up the locket_] + You'll wear it yet, my terror, + Or I'll cut out the tongue that can not wag + To a woman's heart. + [_Enter Creon from street_] + What, Creon? Dumb with news? + Which I will guess before your tongue's uncrimped. + We've lost our gentle guests? Our Spartan friends + Are off? + + _Cre._ They're driven out. But that is old. + Atop that tale, like mountain on a hump, + Comes one will wake you, sir! The tumbling streams + That bore the Spartans out, rage back again, + A gathered flood against you,--you, my lord! + + _Bia._ Ah! + + _Cre._ Sinon's poison spreads till men + That yesterday lay down before you, now + Cry for your death. I warned you, friend! + + _Bia._ You did. + Be happy then. Your duty's done. + + _Cre._ Oh, sir, + Your house is sacked, and all your golden plate, + Parcelled on robber backs, is carried out + And spots the city with a hundred suns! + + _Bia._ There's more i' the world. Let that not trouble you. + + _Cre._ Your robes are in the street, and carters' wheels + Grow royal with them! + + _Bia._ Well, there yet are looms. + While weavers know their art this is no loss. + + _Cre._ Your pictures---- + + _Bia._ What? If they've one finger laid + On those immortal treasures---- + + _Cre._ All are riddled! + + _Bia._ All, Creon? Not my Zeuxis? No! The stones + Hurled at it would have paused as though a god + Were hidden there! + + _Cre._ All, friend. + + _Bia._ Ay, these are tears. + But I will chide them and think on my sword. + Now I must bend me to the senators,-- + Get leave to call my troops,-- + [_Enter a body of senators, Amentor at their head_] + Most noble lords, + I was about to seek you. + + _Amen._ Shifts your mood, + Proud Biades? The answer's not yet cold + That came so hot from you,--a two-edged shame + That struck into your honor as our own! + + _Bia._ Nay, gentle senators, Athenian fathers! + That you could note so low, so foul a charge + As secret Sinon brought against my name, + Gave me the block, the bellows, and the fire + Wherewith I forged my answer,--one that kept + My honor whole, and if your own needs surgery, + Lay 't not to me, but let good sense mend all, + And give me leave to go against this mob + Now scarring Athens' beauty. + + _Amen._ Go alone. + + _Bia._ I have an army. + + _Amen._ Ask Lord Sinon that. + + _Bia._ When fishes drown! + + _Amen._ Put out your single arm, + And feel your army in it. Athens' troops + Are now in Sinon's charge. You are no more + Her general. You are banished. + + _Bia._ Is this so? + + _Senators._ It is. + + _Bia._ Then I am dumb. Words on your heat + Would fall as snow,--and I am not a man + To let my scars speak, though my body bears + Enough to cry you shame. + + _Amen._ We know your valor, + But with it goes a pride no State could bear + But that it must. Make your escape, my lord. + The people pressed us, and we save your life + By this decree. + + _Bia._ O, Athens that did love me! + + _Amen._ And now repents that love, for know you, sir, + Though men may be irreverent as they choose, + They'll follow only who revere their gods. + + [_Exeunt senators_] + + _Cre._ But you were meek! + + _Bia._ If I had let them know + I've yet a tongue, they might have had that too, + And in the courts where I must sue for love + 'Twill be my royal member,--all my suite + And kingly plenitude. + + _Cre._ They will repent. + + _Bia._ On knees, sir! Banished! O, my heart could lend + Hot Sirius fire! + + _Cre._ You! Banished! + + _Bia._ Nay, while sense + From wit and speech are undivorced, and courage + Knits them in purpose drinking up the seas + That distance me from Athens, who shall say + I'm banished? Bribe mankind and nature too, + Ye bleary senators! Suborn the winds! + Put me at end of farthest watery leagues! + While there's no rift between me and my gods, + I'll shake this night as from Apollo's brow + And show my day emergent! + + _Cre._ Where wilt go? + + _Bia._ To Persia first, where I am dear to Phernes. + And then, perchance, with Persia at my back, + Sparta may find me fair, though now I'm black + As Pluto's poker. We'll not flag, my heart, + Till every fleet o' the world rides here and makes + This saucy harbor tremble! What an ague then + Shall shake thee, Athens, thinking on this hour! + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE: _The assembly ground of the Spartans. Maidens discovered. A dance +is ending._ + + + _Nac._ We limped through that. Apollo! Are there thorns + I' the grass? We'll better it. Come! + + _Dia._ No time. I hear + The senators. + + _Nac._ They wait beyond the bridge + For old Aristogeiton. Come, my maids! + You, Dianessa need to school your toes. + 'Twas you played wild-foot--twice! + + _Art._ Save her a slip + When Agis' eye is on her! + + _Nac._ Faith, she'd be + No bride this year! + + _Dia._ What ache for that? His love + Is slight if 't hangs upon my toes. + + _Nac._ My troth! + Less might catch more! + + _Dia._ You, Nacia, are not so lithe + As a ferret in a hoop. An Athens maid + Might labor so in all her skirts. + + _Nac._ Ho, ho! + A little puff blow such a fire? The coals + Were hot then! + + _Myr._ Nay, my girls, we'll douse you both + I' the river yonder if you flame at naught. + How, Dianessa, dance the maids of Athens? + But surely not in skirts! + + _Dia._ My father saw them, + And so he said. + + _Myr._ Why dance at all then? Grace + That cadent girdles the invisible waves + Of flute and harp is born of faining limbs, + And hide them who may see it? + + _The._ No doubt they bob + Like bears in blankets, and believe they dance. + + _Nac._ Pyrrha could say. But since she came from Athens + Who hears her speak? + + _Art._ She keeps from all our games, + And scorns the wrestle, though our noblest youths + Have sent her challenge. + + _The._ Ay! Lets Dianessa wear + The vestal bays, nor cares if Hieron + Be there to see. + + _Myr._ Come, Pyrrha, tell us how + The Athenian maidens dance with shrouded feet. + + _Pyrr._ They wear their robes as Morning does the mist + That makes her beauty greater and her dream + Live on in men. + + _Dia._ Ah, maidens, here's a tale + For the other ear. + + _Pyrr._ The bare and brazen sun + That's up without a cloud, cheers to the hunt, + The fight, the bruited path,--makes careful dames + Send linen to the ford, and say "Zeus grant, + We'll air the beds!" + + _Nac._ Ay, wives must know their season. + + _Pyrr._ But let night-swimming Morn come up + In foamy veil, and her priest-hearted rose + Stays lusty feet and gives adventure's hour + To the achieving soul. + + _Art._ What kin is this + To th' matter? + + _Pyrr._ Why, Artante, when we dance + Half naked as we do before the youths, + They say of us "A bed-mate there, and strong + To bear and breed brave warriors for my house." + But they in Athens who so watch the dance, + See sheatheless Being shine through form that would, + Not softened thus, first fill the ruder eye + And leave unseen the token of a grace + Earth may not shadow. + + _Dia._ Nay, you speak Athenian! + Let's have it in our tongue. + + _Nac._ What grace can be + So badgered in a gown? + + _Pyrr._ Ask flying doves, + That rhythm the air till it doth ache with loss + When they have passed. So have these maidens taught + The silken fold to be their wingèd part. + + _Myr._ Ask her no more. Alack, our Pyrrha drank + Of charmed Ilissus,--must go back to Athens! + + _Nac._ But come! Our dance! We yet are Spartan maids. + + _Dia._ [_Taking wreath from her hair_] Our flowers are far from morning. + See, these buds + Are pale as they had never known the dew. + But I know where some fleecy clusters blow + And daintily edge the stream. Like tiny birds, + Green-necked and lily-winged, they are alight + A hundred to a stem. I'll have a wreath + Of them. + + _Myr._ And I. These sad things are less bright + Than locks they should adorn. + + _Art._ New garlands, all! + Where grow these favors? Dianessa, lead! + + [_They go off, rear left. Pyrrha waits a meditative moment, then turns + to follow. A bough brushes her cheek. She puts up her hand and + plucks a bunch of berries from it_] + + _Pyrr._ 'Tis like his ruby. Nature loved them both + With the same kiss,--the berry and the stone. + [_Fastens cluster to her bosom_] + "Heaven should have its sun." This sun will fade, + But that I threw away had ne'er lost hue + So near my heart, giving and taking fire. + [_Something thrown from the bushes falls at her feet. She gazes at it, + not taking it up_] + Ah! Biades' jewel! Who.... [_Looks about guardedly_] + + [_Biades comes from the woods. He is dressed as a Helot in a scant + tunic of goat-skin, and wears a large cap_] + + _Pyrr._ Whose slave are you, + Bold Helot? + + _Bia._ [_Kneeling_] Thine! [_Takes off cap, revealing his quantity of + dark curls_] + + _Pyrr._ Are you in love with death, + That you have come to Sparta? + + _Bia._ Nay, I come + A banished man. + + _Pyrr._ I've heard how you were plucked. + + _Bia._ No feather left. + + _Pyrr._ Life, sir, is yours, and you + Cast it away in Lacedæmon. + + _Bia._ Nay,-- + + _Pyrr._ You whose dark outrage made her honor bleed, + Think on her burning wound to set the foot + Of impudence and live? + + _Bia._ I know the Spartans. + They will exalt my courage above death. + + _Pyrr._ Courage that reckons so bates its own worth + Till a coward might disport it. You will meet + Death's mercy but no other. + + _Bia._ No, the virtue + Dearest in them they'll hold dear in myself. + But if not so,--blow out your candle, Fate, + I'll go to bed. + + _Pyrr._ Why not have fled to Persia? + She's softer mannered,--has no aching pride + Your death would poultice. + + _Bia._ Pyrrha lives in Sparta. + Howe'er I set my feet, love turned them here. + Which way I bent some tingèd thought of thee + Crept as a secret sun to every sense + And made the hidden threads of being blush + Like coral boughs when Aphrodite's foot + Is on the wave. + + _Pyrr._ Athenian, what canst hope + From Stesilaus' daughter? + + _Bia._ I ask naught. + But had a gem of hers that hourly cried + To clasp its mistress, and to bring it thus, + With Death a looker-on, I thought might make + The peasant service shine so sovranly + That even her royal and offended eyes + Might gently entertain it. + + _Pyrr._ Deck the bark + Of yon shag ilex and 'twill wear your trinket + With the same grace and thanks. + + _Bia._ Thy grace is hers + Who walked unrobed from hands of the high gods + Grown jealous of the beauty they had made. + Not this, nor any jewel may adorn it, + Though swartest pebbles might grow ruby proud, + And rubies throb with breath to be so worn. + And for thy thanks, I have not come this way + To ask for them. Keep them for one so poor + He lets his heart for hire. + [_Puts locket slowly under his tunic_] + And yet my ears + Fed on a sigh when I was hidden there. + + _Pyrr._ Who is so strong as never to have sighed? + That secret moment was my weakest too. + I'm now a Spartan, and my father's name + Is Stesilaus. You may know it, sir, + Who wert of Athens, but whose country now + Is so much ground as you may beg of foes, + And that, Zeus help, they'll measure without grudge. + You're not so tall your grave would scant a field, + Or make a garden less. + + [_Sounds of approach across bridge, lower right_] + + _Bia._ Does Fate come noisy-footed? + I thought she crept, and loved the jungle-leap. + + _Pyrr._ Hide, sir! I'll be as secret as these shrubs, + And not reveal you sooner. With the night + You may steal out of Sparta. + + _Bia._ I'll go out winged + With Spartan ships, and honor as a bride + Shall sail with me! + + _Pyrr._ Are you so mad? Then die! + + [_Enter ephors and senators, all old men, followed by warriors, then + youths, wives, maidens, children, and attendant slaves. Biades + draws his cap down and lies slouching on the grass. The ephors + and senators take seats which the Helots have prepared for them_] + + _First Ephor._ What! Must we wait? Where are these merry slips? + + _First Senator._ The woods are dancing yonder. By that sign + They come. + + [_Re-enter Dianessa, Myrta, and companions, who dance before the + assembly, the figure symbolizing the capture of Persephone. + They continue dancing, the youths joining, until every maid + has won a partner._] + + _Ste._ [_To Archippe_] Our Pyrrha does not dance. Why's that? + + _Arc._ No why at all. I'll rate her. Sulky chuff! + + _Ste._ Ay, you'll be on her heels! + + _Arc._ The younger maids + Are chosen. She'll be left. There's Hieron + With eyes like begging moons which way she goes, + But she draws off,-- + + _Ste._ Well, well! She'll please herself. + + _Arc._ In Phania, I'd have had a daughter now---- + + _Ste._ What, madam? Gabble here? Be done! + + _Agis._ [_Among the young men_] I thirst. + [_To Biades_] Up, slave! Fill me a cup. Come, move, you drone! + + [_Biades slowly rises and goes to spring under trees, rear_] + + _A Young Lord._ What Helot's that? + + _Another._ Some dog o' the farms. A staff + On 's back might help his legs. + + _Another._ I'll put mine to 't. + + [_Biades lazily returns with cup. In handing it to Agis he spills part + of the contents_] + + _Agis._ [_Emptying the cup in Biades' face_] By Dis and Rhadamanthus! Sot! + Whose man + Is this? + + _Bia._ My own, you Spartan whelp! + + [_Gives Agis a blow, so unexpected that it knocks him down. His head + strikes the root of a tree and he does not rise. A number of + Spartans rush upon Biades. Others bear Agis off, left_] + + _Voices._ The dog! + Tread him to earth! Down! down! + + _Bia._ [_Springing from them and taking off his cap_] + What, Greeks? You'd kill + A brother? + + _A Voice._ Biades! + + _Bia._ My friends---- + + _Voices._ Ha, ha! His friends! + + _Lys._ What friending was 't you gave us on the day + You drove us out of Athens? Hoot and club + Then spoke how dear you loved us. We had not + Brought off our lives if your desire had dared + Blow full on Athens' heat. + + _Gir._ Brought off our lives? + Where's Heracordus? Stoned at Athens' gate, + And dead upon the road. + + _Bia._ Nay, brothers---- + + _Gir._ Ha! + If you're a brother, weep beside his grave. + I'll show it you. + + _Lys._ And all the graves where lie + The dead we brought two bleeding years ago + From Decalea's wall, where you gave entry + Then broke the truce with charge! + + _Bia._ But hear, my lords---- + + _Gir._ Come, wail beside them till they wake and ask + What new calamity brews in your tears! + + [_Enter Lenon_] + + _Len._ Agis yet swoons. That root was edged with death. + We fear he's gone. + + _Gir._ For this alone, Athenian, + You should not live,--though all your else-wrought deeds + Were mercy's pawn for you. + + _Bia._ Ye fathers, hear! + If ye know Justice,--and the world has said + Her lovers dwell in Sparta,--shall he cry + To scorn-shut ears, whose injuries taking voice + Should pass in thunder where your virtues sleep? + Hear one whose wrongs have bruised him to your coast, + And let it not be said that you from safe + Unshaken rocks met suppliant hands with spears! + + _Ste._ Ye noble elders, there's a sort of mercy + On which dishonor feeds. As pasty, soft + As butter in the sun, it chokes the sluice + Of reason,--in marshy obliteration lays + The marks and bounds of justice,--nauseous spreads + Till mind is left no throne. Let it not come + Where sit the guards of honor! + + _Bia._ I grant you so. + But what I ask is not thus natured, sir! + Sages of Lacedæmon, there's a mercy + That veins the very rock of Justice' seat. + It is the agent of divinest mould + In all the world. By it the mind grows fair + With blossoms deity may gather. 'Tis + As precious to the soul as south-lipped winds + To the winter-aching earth. Go bare of it, + Though ye know Virtue ye wear not her pearl. + I beg my life that you in saving me + May save the heavenliest favor given to men, + Nor crush it out of Sparta, leaving her + The scarred and barren terror gods forsake. + + _Second Ephor._ Shall hear his plea? He may have argument + Of worthy note. + + _Second Senator._ 'Tis not our way to judge + The dumb. + + _Third Ephor._ [_Very old, creakingly_] + Why, if a lion, boar, or pard, + Or any beast, should pause as we did burn + In chase, and beg us hear his cause, I think + Our ears would ope. + + _Ste._ Ay, and the earth too, sir, + Bearing such wonder on it! Folly's self + Would be too wise to listen to this man, + Yet ye would hear him! + + _Fourth Ephor._ More than would. We will. + + _Bia._ This clemency shows like yourselves,--the gem + Of mind's adornment, as ye are the lustre + Of Sparta's matchless race! + + _Ste._ Now he is off. + Will gallop with us to what ditch he choose. + + _First Senator._ Speak, Biades. + + _Bia._ Of Agis then, my lords,-- + This newly raw offence,--be my first word. + And I'll not stay for garnish. Truth is bare, + And bravest so. Though 'twas my Helot guise + Drew Agis' insult on me, think you, sirs, + It fell upon a proud and free-born Greek, + And who is here that could with putting on + A slave's vile dress put on his nature too, + Drain off his ancient, high nobility, + And in one brutish instant lose the blood + That made his fathers heroes? Is there one? + + _First Ephor._ We grant you, none. + + _Bia._ Your hearts then struck my blow, + Therefore must pardon it. If Agis' death + Falls from it, 'tis but accident that sleeps + In every motion, and in mine awoke + Untimely. Who, so shorn of wisdom, thinks + That I, a suitor here for barest life, + Meant him a vital stroke that would o'ercry + My prayers and make a mock of suppliance? + I'll mourn with you, my lords, but ask you wring + The neck of Fate, and leave my head where 'tis + To praise the just of Sparta. + + _Third Senator._ So we might + But for the heavier charges that engage + The sighs of mercy 'gainst you ere they blow + This deed a pardon. What of Decalea? + + _Bia._ That was a ruse the Spartans taught me, sir, + When at Eleusis they ensnared my troops + Within the gates, and naught passed out again + Save rivers of their blood. If I must die + For Decalea, die you with me, men, + For red Eleusis. + + _Fourth Senator._ This is justice too. + I saw Eleusis. He is clear on that. + + _Ste._ I warn you, senators! The fleetest wit + That pauses on his guile is honey-mired + And ne'er gets farther. + + _First Ephor._ We'll not keep his road + An inch past justice, but we'll go so far. + + _Ste._ So you resolve, but Hecate at his smile + Would plod beside him like a market lass, + Forgetting vengeance. + + _Bia._ Honored Stesilaus:---- + + _Ste._ Honored? Ay, Biades! With gibe and jeer + That shook the walls of Athens! By my staff, + I'll---- + + _Bia._ Noble fathers, hear me for yourselves, + Who, loved of Pallas, in this council sit + Her earthly heirs and nature's demigods! + This rage of Stesilaus is itself + Sanction and seal for my adoption here, + A son of Sparta. + + _Ste._ Ha! Now he would drive + The mares of Diomed! + + _Bia._ My lords,---- + + _Ste._ Prove this? + + _Bia._ Why made you Stesilaus head and tongue + Of envoy unto Athens? For you thought + His mind, most apt, fluidic, politic, + More quick than danger, would take shape of need, + Repairing your defense fast as you found + Your safety cramped. If I o'ercame him then + With wit that watched with sleepless spear at door + Of Athens' housèd trust, must you not crown in me + The quality held sovereign in him? + + _Ste._ You hear, you elders,--must! + + _Bia._ Ay, must,--and must! + Or at the fontal spring of justice break + Your cups and thirst. No alien dripple may + Content you then. + + _First Senator._ We listen, Biades. + + _Bia._ When swords of an uneven temper meet, + Who scorns the better proved? Nay, you do set + Your love upon it,--in your armory + Give it a burnished place. And I who crossed + With Stesilaus, for my triumph ask + To be of Sparta's armor. + + _Ste._ Our dead shall answer! + + _Bia._ They shall. For every heart my steel made cold, + Is proof how well I served my Athens,--proof + Of loyal heat with which I'll serve the State + That makes me hers! A true-bred Greek, outthrust + And homeless, seeks a foster-land, that he + May lift for her his sword, nor wasteful let + The chiefest virtue in him die unused + While his lost name no more climbs to the gods. + + _Second Senator._ Would you ally with us 'gainst Attica? + + _Bia._ I'm yours for that. By th' mother of the sea, + Her tears shall wash your feet! + + _Third Senator._ What way wouldst take? + + _Bia._ The way to Phernes and the Persian fleet + Now boastful before Rhodes. Grant me a convoy, + I'll forge with Persia Lacedæmon's sword, + And cut the crest from Athens. + + _Fourth Senator._ We have failed + With Phernes. + + _Bia._ You'll not fail again. He's sworn + My friend. + + _First Senator._ Our ships are few. + + _Bia._ But Corinth holds + Her sea-wings spread for any need of yours. + + _Ste._ Hear me, ye warriors! He will lead + Our force afar, then stir up neighbor foes + To scourge unarmored Sparta! Think that one, + Cradled in silk and fed on nectared drops---- + + _Bia._ There, sir, I'm bold to say you're off the road + Of truth. My nurse was of your people, brought + From sterner Sparta for my orphan rearing, + By my good uncle Pelagon,--a man + Ye know your friend. From her wise hands I took + Your doughty-nurturing bread, and broth black-brewed, + That drives the shade of fear from veins of men. + + _Ste._ I've bread now in my wallet. Let us see + Your teeth in 't. + + [_Takes out a piece of coarse, stale bread and offers it to + Biades_] + + _Bia._ Pardon, sir! I do not hunger. + A Helot shared with me. + + _Ste._ 'Twill keep till you + Would sup. But, you must try our broth, sir. Pulse + Is seething yonder. Youths, bring here a bowl. + We have a guest who'd call his childhood up + In good black brew. Hark, Lenon! + + [_Whispers to Lenon, who goes off left_] + + _Third Ephor._ It is truth. + Amycla was your nurse. I know the year + That she was sent to Athens. + + _Bia._ On her lap + I learned a love for Sparta that returned + In warrior days to blunt my assaulting sword + And wound me from your side. She taught me too + The lyric wafture that dead hero-lips + Send on undying,--songs your young men sing, + And old men flush to hear,--and as a youth + I longed to make my civil Athens street + Echo to Sparta with a brother's call. + + _Third Ephor._ But I am moved. + + _Fourth Ephor._ And I. + + _Ste._ Art grown so old + You'll feed on pap again? Come, Biades, + A song Amycla taught you! One will prove + Your love remembers Sparta. + + _Bia._ Sir, I'm not + Your zany. + + _Ste._ But you'd make my country one, + To antic for you. + + [_Re-enter Lenon with bowl of broth_] + + _Ste._ Here's your portion, sir. + Amycla made no better. Will you drink? + + [_Gives bowl to Biades, who regards the black mixture dubiously. All + are silent, watching him. He looks at Pyrrha_] + + _Bia._ [_To Pyrrha_] Is 't poison? + + _Pyrr._ [_Stolid_] It may be. + + _Bia._ [_To Senators_] Your will's in this? + + _First Senator._ It is. + + _Bia._ If this be pledge that binds me yours, + Fellow of board and field, I drink long life + To our compact. But if death waits here,--to you, + O comrade shades, and our good fellowship! + [_Drinks. The Spartans applaud_] + + _Ste._ You lean to him, and Sparta topples with you! + + _A Young Man._ [_Entering_] Agis is up! He comes! And bears no grudge + For a good Greek blow. Says you could give no less. + + [_Enter Agis_] + + _Bia._ High Zeus, I thank thee! Agis, thou dost live + To take my pardon and to give me thine! [_They take hands_] + + _Ste._ So soft? + + _Lys._ Better than blows. + + _Ste._ Ha! Like disease + He'll spread the woman till our eyes drop tears + Instead of fire. When Spartan eagles moult, + They'll go no farther than Athenian owls. + + _Lys._ He's valiant. + + _Ste._ There's no braver tongue. + + _Lys._ And friend + To Phernes. + + _Ste._ So he says. + + _Lys._ Nay, that's well known. + + _Ste._ My captain comrades, and ye aged fathers, + If ye had seen him strut, a vanity + As brainless as the monkey at his heels, + With woman velvets making slut of wealth + Trailing foul dust,--a peacock fan at 's cheek + Where a soldier's beard should grow, and bangled ears + Whose swinging jewels tickled a white neck + Soft as a harlot's pillow,--this at time + His city laid such honor on his head + As would have kept a brave man on his knees + For wisdom to uphold it,--had ye looked on this, + Ye'd call the weakest maiden from her wheel + To lead our wars ere trust to Biades! + + _First Ephor._ A picture this,--shakes faith. + + _Second Ephor._ We trust too far. + + _Ste._ Sirs, had ye seen what I but paint---- + + _Bia._ My lords, + I'll wrestle with the stoutest Spartan youth + That makes your wars most dreaded, and these limbs, + Now shrunk with fasting, wasted and forsook + By Fortune that once fed them as her own, + Will prove my right to captain Sparta's host! + + _Ste._ Our women could undo you, girl of Athens! + Meet his bold brag with this. One of our maids + Shall throw him! Ay! Then he'll betake his shame + To any shade will hide it. + + _Hie._ Sir, I sue + To lay this boast. + + _Agis._ My prayer be first, my lords! + + _Voices._ A lot! A lot! + + _Ste._ Nay, sons, a fall from you + Would give him hope to pick his honor up + And steal again to favor. He will plead + That you, full-fed, met him in famished hour, + When Fate hung him with bruises leeching strength, + And gave you victory. Let my offer hold. + A maiden to him, and we'll hear no more + Of valorous Biades. + + _First Ephor._ We are agreed. + + _Second Ephor._ Who is our strongest maid? + + _Lys._ We've six whose claims + Push equal. All in public game have won + The bow of Artemis. + + _First Ephor._ We'll choose from these. + + _Bia._ Olympus, shower me woes! I will not cringe, + So they be man's. But save me from a mock + That makes misfortune past seem sweet as drops + From Hera's healing cup! + + _Dia._ A mock? The gods + Have never honored you till now. + + _Myr._ See these, + My bantling? Arms that made Kalides wear + A three months' bruise! + + _The._ And these have locked the strength + Of Lenon in defeat! + + _Dia._ Ask Mirador + If he liked well the sandy bed I gave him. + + _Nac._ Bethink you now how you'll outcrow disgrace, + For you'll be short of breath when you've gone through + The brash I'll give you. + + _Dia._ Then he'll show his reefed + And wattled skin, and say that want of bread + O'ercame him, not our valor. + + _Art._ Look you, maids! + His hollow eyes do beg some pity of us. + We'll give him yet a chance, and mate him with + Our lame Coraina. She's near well again. + Will drop her crutch to be our champion. + + _Bia._ Zeus, + Behold me patient! Furies, though I lack + Some vaunting flesh, the sharpest ill that on + My body ravins feeds a spirit that + Might meet with Heracles and give him need + Of both his arms! + + _Dia._ Ha! Better! Maids, his tongue + Will fight yet! + + _Ste._ Peace! The ephors choose + That Dianessa bear this honor off. + She threw strong Mirador, first of the youths, + Which puts her o'er the rest. + + _First Ephor._ We've else determined + That with the fall the Athenian forfeits life. + + _Bia._ And if I win, my lords? Since life must pay + Defeat, should victory not solicit me + With counterpoisèd prize? + + _First Ephor._ We shall accept you + Leader and comrade, and give escort fair + To bear your suit to Phernes. + + _Lys._ More! The maid + Shall be your bride, and bind you son and brother + To Sparta's love. + + _Second Ephor._ You, Stesilaus, assent? + + _Ste._ Since without risk you may pursue your folly, + I'll not oppose you. + + _First Ephor._ Dianessa, you + Abide our will? + + _Dia._ And welcome it. 'Twill work + Like Mars in me, and make my arm + The gallows of his fame. The Athenian lady! + I'd choose a husband among men. + + _Bia._ And I, + My generous, dear lords, would woo and win + Some mute and humble maid. I would not force + The noble Dianessa bend her head + To one unworthied by a hostile Fate. + + _First Ephor._ Tut, sir! If Fortune's love returns with heat + That makes you conqueror, by that same sun + Her pride will melt, and you will find her meek + As gosling in your hand. + + _Second Ephor._ 'Tis settled so. + Wear what you win. + + _Pyrr._ [_Rising_] Ye reverend men, and you, + My noble father, may my suit reveal + My love to Sparta and your love to me, + Which has not spoken in this act of yours + That overpeers me and gives up my due + To Dianessa. + + _First Ephor._ Ha? + + _Pyrr._ Though Mirador + Was forced below her, never in a bout + Has she ta'en honors from me, while I oft + Have left her down. + + _Second Ephor._ Speak'st truly? + + _Pyrr._ Hear herself + Avouch it. + + _Dia._ Ay, you overmate me, but + The gap between us will not cast the match + To Biades. And I was chosen. + + _Fourth Ephor._ Nay, + You must give place. + + _Pyrr._ I've other reason, sir. + It is my dear, war-honored father lays + This match on Sparta, and my pride of house + Would bear his counsel through the act that sets + The sage's seal upon it. + + _First Ephor._ A daughter, sir! + + _Ste._ Bare duty might so speak. + + _Pyrr._ This gives me warmth + My maiden comrades lack. By every vein + My father gave me, his time-laurelled brow + Shall never wear a garland less! + + _Second Ephor._ Well sworn! + + _Pyrr._ And for I saw---- + + _Third Ephor._ More reasons? + + _Pyrr._ --the rude shame + The Athenian put upon the ambassadors, + And mine own eyes bore him in lowest semblance, + Demeaned from manhood, his dishonor wrapped + In purple cost that left it yet more naked. + I swear he shall not honored lead our wars! + If our gray heroes fail us, we have dames + To choose from,--need not go to Athens! + + _First Ephor._ This speaks! The victory's won where courage makes + Such stout provision. + + _Pyrr._ If I fail, my lords, + Then gods are mongers and their favors sell, + Denying honest prayers. + + _Lys._ Come, Biades. + Art ready? + + _Bia._ Ay, long past! + + _First Ephor._ Your places then. + + _Ste._ Delay you! Biades, with modesty + Unlooked for, but most fit, you gave up claim + To Dianessa.---- + + _Bia._ Nay, 'twas but an offer + Whose bounty met refusal. + + _Ste._ I'll accept it + In Pyrrha's name. + + _Bia._ So prudent against loss? + This caution, sir, gives me a victor's heart. + + _Ste._ Triumph is hers a certain thousand times, + And yours a dicer's once, slipped you between + Hiccough and snore of gods at shutting time. + But since that once will have a thousandth chance + To trouble me, I'll grant you free of Pyrrha. + + _Bia._ Wait till 'tis begged. Lysander spoke with kind + And equal honor, which did soften me + To leave his daughter his. And others here + Have tendered me the gentle looks that breed + The answering benison till hearts of earth + Feel heaven's element. But you, whose hate + Should hiss from crawling shape, not upright man's, + Wake fires in me that eat through godly patience + And sweep to battle. I'll endure no further. + Back with your taunts! And if 'twill make you sore + Where pride is daintiest, I'll your daughter wed + Because she is your daughter! + + _Ste._ Bark, you puppy, + But you'll not carry it! + + _Bia._ Were she featured foul + As snaked Medusa,--her brow a hanging night,-- + Her figure hooped as age when chin and toes + Are neighbors,--and of speech so scaly, harsh + As Stesilaus,--I, with no more color + Or shade of reason than that you deny me, + Would make her bride. The ephors gave their word, + And what I win I'll wear! + + _First Ephor._ We'll see you do. + Content you, Stesilaus. None will weep + To know your bluff soul matched. To place! To place! + + [_They wrestle. Pyrrha loses. Silence, then applause for Biades_] + + _A Lord._ My heart upheld him, for I know him brave. + + _Another._ I saw his dripping sword on Theban plain + Cut through the knotted fray and make two fields + O' the combat. + + _Another._ He can pray too, Delphi knows! + + _Another._ But when his gallant prayers their action find + The gods themselves rage in them. + + _First Ephor._ [_To Pyrrha_] Daughter, take + Fair thanks from us for brave support of Sparta, + And having lost, more thanks for giving her + Another soldier. Has defeat made soft + Your heart for swift espousal? + + _Bia._ Let me woo + In slower way, good father. Tho' my boast + Rose high 'gainst Stesilaus' scorn, I'm not + Of heart so rash that I would lose her love + By taking it. With Sparta's aid now mine, + I'll ask her choose a noble guard and sail + With me, that I, by time and fortune graced, + May win a double suit, herself and Persia. + + _First Ephor._ We'll think of it. Our plans are still unthreshed. + Come with us, Biades. + + [_Ephors, with senators and Biades, lead the way over bridge. All + follow except Stesilaus and Pyrrha_] + + _Ste._ How was 't he won? + And he was livid famine! Scurfed with weeks + Of beggary! While you--such arms had saved + Antiope from Theseus! + [_Pyrrha droops silent_] + Up, my daughter! + We'll make this fall our hope. You shall take sail + With Biades---- + + _Pyrr._ Gods hear me, no! + + _Ste._ You will. + I know his aim. He will betray our force + To Athens,--pardon's price. Athenian ease + Is in his marrow like a siren sleep, + And all this hardy show is but to buy + His languors back. You'll watch within his ship, + With Hieron a second secret eye, + And when his treachery ripens, take command + And bring him bound to Sparta. + + _Pyrr._ Be so near? + Sail in his ship? + + _Ste._ Be near him as a wife. + Watch close. Lie in his thoughts, though not his bed. + And if he presses to the shrine of favor, + Here is my dagger. This will be your guard. + Let him meet death upon it,--and that death + Be honor's sanctuary. Come! My brow + Must smooth submissive to the senators. + Clear too your face with summer policy. + Thus openly we'll hide. The State's turned fool, + And naught between her and perdition save + An old man and a girl! [_Exit_] + + _Pyrr._ [_Gazing at dagger_] If this cold blade + Were seeking traitors 't might look in my heart. + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE: _On board a galley off Athens. An open door left of centre, rear, +shows a moonlit sea. Cressets burning within. Pyrrha discovered, seated +and fingering a dagger. A diminishing sound of dipping oars and rowers +singing._ + + + God of the bold who ride + With song o'er their dead + Whose unsown graves wait wide, + The singers' bed,-- + Poseidon, befriend, befriend, + And the good wind send! + + The sirens are on their rocks; + Like a piercèd moon + Weeping her gold, their locks + To the waters run. + Poseidon, befriend, befriend, + And the good wind send! + + Fleet are the foam-toothed hounds + That hunt unfed, + With hunger that aches like wounds, + And ships their bread. + Poseidon, befriend, befriend, + And the good wind send! + + [_Enter Lysander_] + + _Pyrr._ Lysander! You? Is 't battle? + + _Lys._ At dawn we move + Upon the Athenian ships. + + _Pyrr._ They've come from harbor? + + _Lys._ Nay, lurking still, fear-cabled to the land, + Like weanlings round a skirt. + + _Pyrr._ At last a battle! + And Biades is true. The watch is done. + I'm sick of spying, hanging on him like + A doubt with teeth. He leaves this galley then? + + _Lys._ Commands from the _Ino_, now so brave repaired + She sits her place as though the sea and air + Debated who should claim her, and she no more + Adorns both elements than herself's adorned + By our young admiral. + + _Pyrr._ He is gone? So soon? + + _Lys._ Went, but is here again, and here must stay + These next three hours or more. + + _Pyrr._ Why so, Lysander? + + _Lys._ We sacrifice aboard Thrasyllus' ship, + Where now the captains gather, and the hand + Of one who leads the foe to his fathers' hearth + Would cloud the omen. He must keep apart. + + _Pyrr._ You've told him that? + + _Lys._ We have not dared. + + _Pyrr._ Not dared? + Way, Spartan lions, for the Athenian puppy! + + _Lys._ He's tender with his honor. + + _Pyrr._ His honor! + + _Lys._ Soft! + We shunt all danger if you mew him here + Unwitting of our hand. + + _Pyrr._ I do not wear + Athene's ægis on my jerkin, friend. + + _Lys._ You can divinely drug his vanity + Without immortal aid. Attach him by 't, + For free he'll chafe. Drift with him in such wise + He'll not suspect our rudder. + + _Pyrr._ Ay, more lies. + + _Lys._ Truth is no absolute virtue. 'Tis a vice + If 't takes a screw from safety. + + _Pyrr._ There is law + Higher than Sparta utters. If not so, + What mean our altars, and a kneeling world? + + _Lys._ Hmm! I delay the sacrifice. Dost know + I take my Dianessa? A virgin's hand + Must weave the victim's garland. + + _Pyrr._ Ah, the moon + Of Artemis! A virgin's hand. They ask + Not mine? + + _Lys._ You are a bride in Sparta's eyes. + Would Truth might speak it too! For Biades + Has won all love but yours. + + _Pyrr._ I'll wed no traitor. + + _Lys._ What? He is false? + + _Pyrr._ Ay, false to Athens. + + _Lys._ Phut! + + [_Enter Hieron_] + + _Hie._ How like you this, sir? Biades has stripped + The galley of its rowers,--sent them all + To his gilded _Ino_,--every boat in charter + To bear his trappings,--parchments, maps, and gifts + From Phernes,--curtains, instruments---- + + _Lys._ The stuff + Goes with the admiral, and what other way + Than by the boats? Say naught of 't. + + _Hie._ This a time + To spend a feathering! + + _Lys._ Nay---- + + _Hie._ And why send all? + A half--a third--had answered. There's not left + An oarsman on the galley save the men + Who brought you from the _Thetis_. + + _Lys._ You've the guard,-- + Yourself its head. Give Biades his way + When prudence pays no cost. We've hedged and hemmed + His wrestling will until his pride is brashed + To the rebel quick---- + + _Hie._ Sst! He is here. + + [_Biades stands in door_] + + _Bia._ Lysander, + They hail you from Thrasyllus' ship. You stay + The rites. + + _Lys._ [_Troubled_] But is it time---- + + _Bia._ Full time. + + _Lys._ My boat---- + + _Bia._ Is waiting. + + _Lys._ I--you, sir---- + + _Bia._ You'll bear my grace + To our priestly captains? + + _Lys._ You stay here? + + _Bia._ I shall, + If you'll not press me other. As you pray + For clearer omen and a morning battle, + Let only those whose land holds them untainted + Stand in the holy ring. + + _Lys._ Above our prayers + This act will speak to Heaven in Sparta's name + And make her gods your own. + + _Bia._ If that might be, + Lysander! To have no altars is a fate + Man can not bear for long. + + _Hie._ The rowers, sir! + How soon do they return? + + _Bia._ They've leave to see + The midnight toward with their fellow crew + On the _Ino_. + + _Hie._ Midnight! + + _Bia._ Loyal beggars, all. + They're sad to lose their captain, and I pay + Their grieving flattery with this stinted lease + From duty here. They'll use 't in prayerful rite---- + + _Hie._ Not prayer! The casks will drip too free for that. + If any prayers come from the heart to throat, + They'll downward wash again, not out and fly. + Say'st midnight, sir? + + _Bia._ I do. They will return + In time to set the galley from the cast + Of morning danger. + + _Hie._ Move again? The ship + Is now to rearward, by some rods. + + _Bia._ She is. + And shall go farther. Here's no fighting deck. + + _Hie._ Ay, these soft cabins, Corinth-modelled as + A prince, would make a floating holiday, + Put soldiers from their place. + + _Bia._ The ship must lie + Full east, on th' safest wave. We've treasure 'neath + These sails that make their weathered woof more dear + Than threaded gold of Hera's mantle. + + _Hie._ Ah, + You mean the women. + + _Bia._ No,--a woman. Come, + Lysander. + + _Lys._ Sir, what time wilt take your place + Aboard the _Ino_? + + _Bia._ Give me till the midnight, + I'll from that moment be your admiral. + But for these gentle hours that lie between, + I would as merest man use their light wings + To chase a hope through heaven. + + _Lys._ [_With a glance at Pyrrha_] And bring it down, + My lord! + + [_Exeunt Lysander, Biades, and Hieron_] + + _Pyrr._ Now, Impudence, no more's to do! + Go up and take thy crown. Before my eyes + He teaches them he wooes me, and my pride + Mutely abets his guile. [_Holds up the dagger_] My fine defence, + Thou'rt warder to a bosom unbesieged. + In Biades' contempt I have a guard + That saves thine office. Go, you glittering mock! + [_In a passion of resolution she throws the dagger through the door_] + That's done. No matter. He does not look at me, + Or looks as though his eyes begged pardon of him, + For their chance stop on nothing. + + [_Re-enter Biades, the dagger in his hand_] + + _Bia._ Here's a toy + Caught from the rigging. Yours, I think. + [_Offers it to her. She does not take it_] + It must be dear. I've seen you fondle it. + Is it not yours? + + _Pyrr._ It was. + + _Bia._ Then is. And worth + Your keeping. A good blade, though Spartan plain. + + _Pyrr._ I'm weary of it. In Athens I shall find + Another pattern. + + _Bia._ [_Testing blade_] Fine and strong. Will wear + A hundred years, then make a door for death. + [_Turns it against his heart. She starts_] + You'll take it, Pyrrha. To throw it to the sea + Were waste for an Athenian. + + _Pyrr._ Keep it then. + + _Bia._ You give this blade to me? + + _Pyrr._ I care not. Keep + What you have praised. + + _Bia._ [_Pressing it against his cheek_] A gentle weapon,--but + I've somewhat 'gainst it. + [_Goes to door and throws it far into the sea_] + Kiss the waves, my friend! + + [_Returns to Pyrrha and sits by her_] + + _Bia._ [_Softly_] I leave the ship to-night. + + _Pyrr._ [_Uneasy_] And time you led + The fleet to battle. You've excused delay + Till palling breath became the shroud of action, + And yet refused it funeral. + + _Bia._ I know + How you have doubted. O, this soul of Sparta, + That can not trust! It peeps from every eye, + Deepest where kindest. Tags each friendly word + With its unspoken dread,--and comradeship, + That strives to wrap it in a gala cloak, + Strains vainly round the huge, dun doubt, agape + In dreary revelation. + + _Pyrr._ You are free + To leave us. + + _Bia._ Free? Five Spartan nobles watch + Beside me, move with every step, for so + The admiral must be honored! Hieron + Foregoes his place at sacrifice to serve + My dignity. Not for his gods he'll put + A furlong 'tween us. + + _Pyrr._ He's the ship's good eye. + And all the men except the lords of guard + Are, by your grace, a-neighboring. Would you leave + The galley without watch? + + _Bia._ No, Pyrrha, sweet. + But I would woo you with no ear at the door. + + _Pyrr._ [_Rising_] My lord! + + _Bia._ [_Indifferent_] Nay, then. I can't oppose the sex + Of Aphrodite. My one frailty. + + _Pyrr._ One! + + _Bia._ What? I have more? + + _Pyrr._ The moments of your life + Are not so many! + + _Bia._ Gods be thanked, I'm young! + How may I change to please a Spartan scold? + + _Pyrr._ Be anything you're not. + + _Bia._ You have not heard + I am the admiral of the Spartan fleet, + With Persian Phernes yonder at my beck, + Broad-winged with all Phoenicia? You know not + I am a general? + + _Pyrr._ Oh, to be that name, + Not make 't thy bauble! What dost know + Of secret, sleepless hours, and delving thought + That nations may lie safe? By what grave right + Wear you the title? What deep sacrifice? + + _Bia._ Leave sacrifice to fools and women! Ay, + More lies are huddled in that saintly word + Than ever smirked outside it. The strong soul + Low bowing there, lies to his god,--the weak + Lies to the world behind a holy shield + That turns the spear of justice. Pallas, hear! + A general makes himself a master, lest + The State make him a servant. + + _Pyrr._ True in _Athens_! + But you've another name. I've heard you called + The young philosopher. Play you at that. + 'Twill tire naught but the tongue. Yours will go far. + + _Bia._ Nay, spare me toil of spirit searching through + Earth, sea, and sky for phrases magical + To wrap creation in, as 'twere a babe + Each man might call his own could he but find + Some good-wife fancy to deliver it. + No other hope? + + _Pyrr._ They name you poet, too. + Build round your spirit an Elysian cheat + And buzz it through upon a golden wing. + Is that not idle enough? + + _Bia._ You touch me now + With flattery's gold point. I wince and love + The pain. Yet I'd not be a frolic breath + At play with Spring and florets in the dew, + Or move in rhymèd courtesies before + The smile or frown of gods. Trick my dear soul + In May-day rags to catch a languid eye. + Babble of moods and minds, how some think this, + Some that, and some have never thought. Drone how + On such a day one struck another down, + Or led a fleet, or laid a city wall. + + _Pyrr._ What would you sing then, pray? + + _Bia._ I would not sing. + Was there not poetry before men spake? + I'd go behind the broidered veil we've wrought + Before the face of one that we loved much + And then forgot for beauty of the shroud. + The old lere's lost, the new but irks our dream. + We listen to ourselves, while round us ever + Are worlds that vainly pluck us to their doors, + Giving us sign in lightning, heat, and wave, + In flake of snow, flint-spark, and crystal rock, + In stones that make the iron creep, and color, + Fair flag and challenge to our shuttered minds. + + _Pyrr._ [_Moving nearer_] Oh! + + _Bia._ [_Seeming to forget her_] Round our lives is life whose destiny + Is that frontier no word of ours has crossed, + But man to come shall plant and harvest there, + Where his soul sets the plough. + + _Pyrr._ [_Softly_] You know that too? + + _Bia._ That life shall warm his barest common way + Of in and out. In field and market-place, + He'll lay his cheek 'gainst its unbodied love + And flush translations of its silent touch. + Then will be poets! Thought that now must fail + In bird-wing flight, shall from a violet's eye + O'erlook the sun. Till then I will not sing. + + _Pyrr._ Not fight, philosophize, or sing! + What's left for an Athenian? + + _Bia._ [_Remembering her_] Love, fair Pyrrha! + You know the tale how Chaos once uncurled + Her laboring bulk from round a fire-leafed rose + And sent its petals drifting down to fields + Where mortals foot with chance? Whoso they touch + Are lovers always, and one came to me. + + _Pyrr._ Now here's ambition! And you live for that? + + _Bia._ Ay there's the charm contents me with dull earth, + And puts a rainbow in my listless hand. + The way is pleasant if the road be love's, + And I'd not shorten it by one maid's eye. + To be a lover,--that's the graceful thing. + Then one moves velvetly, forgets no curve, + And lives his picture, line and color true. + + _Pyrr._ That rôle's struck from your play, you'll find, my lord. + Maidens will smile, but scorn will set the lip, + And women's eyes be warm, but hate their fire + For you, the traitor. + + _Bia._ Traitor? + + _Pyrr._ [_In the door_] See the gleam + On Athens, yours no more. The softest breast + Within her walls is steel when you are named. + + _Bia._ But there are maids in Sparta. + + _Pyrr._ Not for you, + A traitor to the soil that gave you life. + + _Bia._ That soil first cast me off. + + _Pyrr._ A mother strikes + Her child, but should the child return the blow + Gods would droop eyes and blush. + + _Bia._ But were I true + To my own land, I should be false to yours. + + _Pyrr._ A virtue that. A maid might love you then. + + _Bia._ A Spartan maid? + + _Pyrr._ A Spartan maid. But now + We hold you as no more than loathèd bait + To capture Athens. Used as a stuck fly + To hook a chub! + + [_Enter Hieron_] + + _Bia._ What saucy fury sports + With Hieron? His even smile's unfixed + As the middle of two minds. + + _Hie._ Sir, Phernes sends + Six maidens from his ship to dance before you. + The noble Persian chooses time most fit + For wantoning,--the hour of sacrifice + And battle prayer. + + _Bia._ You're justly kindled. What + Though it be royal custom in his East,-- + A grace from king to king,--to garnish danger + With frillet of relief that makes death seem + The last-dropped toy, we'll dare to let him know + That we are Greeks, and walk the edge of graves + With eyes upon the gods. Go, pack them off! + + _Hie._ Why,--so I meant. The act struck rudely on + Our ritual hour. But if his Eastern mind + Paints it a courtesy---- + + _Bia._ A sovereign honor. + + _Hie._ He is of haughty blood,--burns at rebuff---- + + _Bia._ Ay, like a hornet blind. A thousand times + I've eased his fret and run his humor's mould + Like summer wax, lest he should break from Sparta + That stood in rigid ruin. Now I leave it! + His anger can be put to gentlest sleep, + But 'tis no babe when stirred. Choose as you will. + + _Hie._ The honor is to you. Be yours the answer. + + _Bia._ I'm worn with him. Three hours to-day I played + His vanity, while chance touched either side, + Waiting the word that should cut through suspense + And seal him ours for battle. + + _Hie._ To huff his pride + 'Tween this and dawn would poorly soothe our own + At an uncertain cost. But let him leer + I' the oracles' face.... + + _Bia._ He has not sent Alissa? + + _Hie._ There's one so calls herself. Spoke out the name + As we should fall before it. + + _Bia._ She's most free + In Phernes' heart. Knows all the honey-ways + To his secret soul, and what is said to her + He'll hear ere morn. As you love victory, + I hope you met her gently. + + _Hie._ If surprise + Made greeting harsh, I will undo that harm + With softer welcome. And beseech you, sir, + To suffer this mistimed civility + For Sparta's sake. + + _Bia._ I will, dear Hieron, + Since 'tis your suit. + + _Hie._ Thanks, thanks, my lord. + + _Bia._ Let them come in. I'll see their briefest dance, + And give Alissa one commending word, + Which straight as faithful bee she'll hive + In Phernes' ear. + [_Exit Hieron_] + What think you of it, Pyrrha? + You do approve me? + + _Pyrr._ Approve your wits, my friend. + Had they been Spartan trained, you'd bring them off, + Untarnished still, from argument with Zeus. + + _Bia._ When Pallas praises, bow. + + _Pyrr._ Poor Hieron + Is now the sweating agent of your will + To see these callets dance. + + _Bia._ Unpitiful! + I'd touch my lips to Lethe, and you'd snatch + The oblivious drop from me! You know how dear + The bond that shall be cut with sword of dawn,-- + So close no seer may tell which shall bleed most, + Athens or her lost son. + + _Pyrr._ Art low at last? + + _Bia._ Dun, dun, my Pyrrha, as a Barbary pigeon! + So low not all my pride can vaunt me up. + Then let me have my wine,--the draught of eyes, + Of music and of smiles, till I be drunk + And sleep. + + [_Enter six Athenian youths, led by Clearchus, all disguised as Persian + dancers. As they dance before Biades his pleasure quickens to + abandonment_] + + _Bia._ Ah, Pyrrha, you've denied my heart + All noble love, but here's a pleasure left. + Soft eyes and gentle bosoms may be mine + Where scorn is taught to sleep and never sting. + ... That is Alissa. We must honor her. + + [_He signals Clearchus, and the others pass out, leaving him to dance + alone. As he ventures more flirtatiously about Biades, Pyrrha's + disgust increases and she retreats. Clearchus, dancing mockingly, + follows her to door, and when she has passed through audaciously + closes it_] + + _Bia._ Now! Quick! In name of Zeus! The senators + Received my message? + + _Clea._ [_Darting to Biades_] Ay, the answer's here! + [_Gives him a parchment_] + Full pardon! Athens will lay down her walls + To make your entry proud! Her gates are small, + For honor she intends you! + + _Bia._ [_Glances at parchment and sobs_] + My Athens! Mine! Though she should take my life, + And my bruised body fling unburied forth, + Yet would my shade drop kisses on her soil + And weep to leave it for Elysium! [_With sudden control_] + What of my plan? + + _Clea._ Adopted, in each item. + Soon as the dropping moon is in the sea, + The Athenian rowers, coming as your own, + Will board this galley and bear her a bird + To th' harbor nest. + + _Bia._ They've force to meet the guards? + + _Clea._ Thrice measured, sir. The _Theia_---- + + _Bia._ My own ship! + + _Clea._ Your own--will meet you, every sailor true + As when he wept your banishment. And Phaon, + Critias, Pelagon, Antiganor, + With twenty senators and men of name, + Wait on her deck in welcome. + + _Bia._ Back, ye tears! + The rowers know my signal? + + _Clea._ Yes, my lord. + Three cressets on the left,--set here in this + Embrasure. They will watch, near as they dare, + And instantly as darts your triple gleam + Their oars will sweep you answer. + + [_A commotion without_] + + _Bia._ Hist! What's wrong? + + [_Enter Hieron and Pyrrha. Hieron goes to Clearchus and tears off + his veil and head-dress_] + + _Clea._ O, pardon! I'll confess! + + _Hie._ 'Tis you, my lord, + I now unmask, not this bought wretch. + + _Bia._ What, sir? + + _Hie._ Your Persian dancers are Athenian boys, + All slim as lizards. We o'er-eyed their steps, + And on suspicion gave them such a pinch + The truth flew out. + + _Bia._ Their guilt does not prove mine. + Is it my crime that Athens touched me near + With bribe of pardon? + + _Pyrr._ Hear the boy. You are + Clearchus? And of Athens? + + _Clea._ I am. + + _Pyrr._ You brought + His pardon. Did he welcome it? + + _Clea._ He did. + + _Bia._ He lies! The coward lies! + + _Clea._ He did agree + That Phernes should draw off his fleet and join + With Athens. + + _Bia._ Oh! Where are the Olympian thunders + That they now let you live? + + _Hie._ Draw off his fleet + To-night? + + _Clea._ Ere dawn. + + _Bia._ That such an atom--such + A trifle of a body could enclose + So great a lie! + + _Clea._ The Persian is at watch, + Waiting the signal---- + + _Bia._ Toad! + + _Clea._ If pardon came, + Two cressets set---- + + _Bia._ I'll shred him! + + _Clea._ At the left---- + Just here, my lord, would start the Persian ships + For Athens. + + _Bia._ Oh! + + _Clea._ But if three cressets burnt, + Then he would hold to Sparta. + + _Hie._ Three? + + _Clea._ Three, sir. + Look in his bosom if you'd read the proof. + His pardon's there. + + _Bia._ By the altars I have lost, + By Sparta's yet unwon, I swear he lies! + + [_Pyrrha snatches the parchment from his bosom_] + + _Bia._ You bat--you mole--you cur-born flea---- + + _Clea._ [_To Hieron_] O, sir, + Your mercy! Save me from him! + + _Hie._ Wait without. + + _Pyrr._ Full pardon! Bring the irons! We are sold! + Irons for Biades! + + _Bia._ [_Accepting defeat_] Ay, let me wear + My honor's livery. Every foe-locked gyve + Will be my country's kiss, and make my blood + Flow proud beneath it. Irons! Load me down, + Now that you know me man, and not the thrall + Of vilest fear that buys suspected breath + With a mother-city's doom. + + _Pyrr._ I'll grant you, sir, + That by this act you do no longer lie + In the unconsidered trash of estimation, + But have crept up in my surprisèd mind + To where I keep my jewels of regard. + That is soon said,--but for the rest, you die. + And more than die, for we shall hurl your name + A palsy over Athens. + + _Bia._ You'll not fight + Athens and Persia! + + _Pyrr._ Persia is not lost. + Your signal is unlit. + + _Hie._ But we'll light ours! + Three cressets---- + + _Pyrr._ [_Stopping him_] Wait! The event's too great + To helve with such slight word. That snivelling blab + May've lied, or crossed the signals, for the young + Are easiest dyed in craft, and take its hue + As natively as innocence doth wear + Its smile in sleep. + + _Hie._ What then? + + _Pyrr._ You'll go to Phernes. + + _Hie._ There are no boats. + + _Pyrr._ Tut, take the boats that brought + Those purfled cymlings here. Their rowers too. + Ah, Biades, you'll serve us still. And thought + To trap all Sparta with this tip-toe bait! + We have a saying. "Wit against the world,--" + And there's another too, "The last lie wins." + Hast heard it, Biades? We'll bear your word + To Phernes that with dawn you move with him + Upon the Athenian sails. + + _Bia._ He'll hear no word + From Spartan mouth. So 'twas agreed between us, + To annul such move as this if chance should strip + My bent of cover. I alone may reach + His ear with Sparta's prayer. + + _Pyrr._ We'll cast for proof + Of that. If true, we shall remember, sir, + That Sparta has won cities with no aid + From Persia. + + _Bia._ You'll not go alone to meet + The strength of Athens? + + _Pyrr._ Your far-wingèd name + And sea-born battle-skill shall go with us. + Your single arm's no loss, but in your fame, + Yet ours to use, the Spartan strength + Is doubled. Ha! They call us landmen,--say + We must have feet on ground ere we can fight. + But you they fear, bred to the wave, and first + Of their commanders. + + _Bia._ Let me die, but leave + My name unmurdered. + + _Pyrr._ It shall be outflung + In challenge to the Athenians. They know well + The sailor rabble loves you, and will oppose + But half a heart to Biades. Some too, + Of higher place, believe you wronged, and fear + The angered gods will station on your side. + By spearman Ares, you shall keep the oath + Great-sworn on Sparta's ground, to set her lance + Through Athens' triple shield! Ay, though you lie + In irons waiting death. + + _Bia._ The sunken souls + Of deepest, damnèd Dis have never borne + So vile a sting! You can not mean it, Pyrrha. + Cast on my soul what Pluto would disbar + From his fire-vaulted hell? I'll proudly die + For treachery to you, but clear my name + To Athens. Take not life and honor too! + + _Pyrr._ One you may save,--your life. + + _Bia._ What do you say? + + _Pyrr._ Draw Phernes back to us, and you shall live. + + _Bia._ You offer me but death, knowing I could not live + A traitor. + + _Pyrr._ You choose to die as one? + + _Bia._ Oh, Zeus, + All-giver, hear! + + _Pyrr._ What gain is death to you + If reputation dies eternally + In Athens' hate? Sparta will do as much + As spare your life. + + _Bia._ Nay---- + + _Pyrr._ She shall nothing know + Of this hour's lapse---- + + _Bia._ O, bitter stars! O, Death + Past fatal!--reaching o'er thy charnel bound + To usurp the immortal garden! Die a traitor! + Never will dew from a forgiving eye + Fall on my grave! + + _Pyrr._ Nor will the upbraiding gaze + Of Heaven be more tender. For you chose + To risk your country's life on turn of chance, + Having no surety that drawn to danger + You then could pluck her out. Ah, made her fate + Your stake at dice, because, escaped the hazard, + You'd toss with her to fortune! And your guilt + Is heavy in her fall as though your hand + Bore down her last defence and fierce untrussed + Her heart to th' wolvish air. + + _Bia._ Oh, Pyrrha, Pyrrha! + + _Pyrr._ Then why haste on to death? The noblest shades + Will make no room for you where'er they walk. + Why rush through the first gate to meet their cold + Immortal scorn? + + _Bia._ But life with honor gone! + + _Pyrr._ If death could buy it, then 'twere wise + To buy so goldenly. But that's too late. + Choose life,--with honor such as Sparta lays + On those who serve but her. This treachery + That we've by hap unbagged in 'ts eanling hour + Shall be safe snugged again. And cherished too! + For in my eyes it is the one brave flower + Of your most barren being. None shall know it, + And Sparta, as she will, may laurels weave + About your faith. + + _Bia._ But Hieron? + + _Pyrr._ [_To Hieron_] You'll swear with me? [_He hesitates_] + In Sparta's name? [_Takes his hand_] And mine? + + _Bia._ No, no! + + _Hie._ I'll swear. + + _Bia._ Oh, not that price! No, till the end + O' the world! + + _Pyrr._ Life, Biades, life! + + _Bia._ I will not do it! + Athens may singly conquer! + + _Pyrr._ Then you die + By Sparta's hand, and Athens holds your name + Accursed through time. The irons, Hieron. + + [_Biades hunches despairingly, his face hidden_] + + _Pyrr._ [_Apart_] Gods! He will yield! + + _Bia._ [_Looking up_] I'll do it,--dare to live,-- + And Attica may call me what she will. + A traitor breathes, and feels the blessed sun. + He's ne'er so poor but can his housing find + In alms-lapped Nature. Her unchoosing airs + Ask not his name before they touch his brow + And tell him when 'tis spring. He yet may dream + In unrebuking shades, and birds will sing + As liquidly as though he were not by. + Food is yet food, and wine is ever wine. + I will not die. [_Rises_] By Maia's son, I'll live! + What is my country but the bit of earth + Where chance did spawn me? 'Tis no treachery. + We're traitors unto love, not hate,--to trust, + Not doubt and slander such as Athens poured + Upon me guiltless. + + _Pyrr._ [_Crossing to him_] So you've found a way + To save both life and honor! + + _Bia._ May a worm + Not creep to cleaner dust? Pyrrha, be kind. + Spare me the trampling foot. + + _Pyrr._ We've lost an hour. + You'll send to Phernes? + + _Bia._ First we'll signal him. + He may be setting off. We must despatch, + For if he saw no sign he meant to draw + His fleet from doubtful waters and give aid + To neither side. [_Taking up a light_] Three cressets--that was true. + When once these lights have spoken, he'll receive + Your envoy as myself. Then Hieron + May bear confirming word to him, and bring + Assurance back. + + _Hie._ [_To Pyrrha_] You do not doubt? + + _Pyrr._ Doubt now? + Nay, Hieron. I'll trust him with his _life_. + + _Hie._ But---- + + _Bia._ [_Trembling_] O, ye gazing gods, must it be done? + In Athens' living heart set up the torch + That leaves her a charred blotch where she lay white + 'Neath heaven and smiled up to sister stars! + + _Pyrr._ Come, Biades! + + _Bia._ Shall not the earth be lost + To God's own eye when Athens, quenched, no more + Marks where we wander? I can not do it! + + _Pyrr._ [_Taking the cresset_] Too late, + My lord! + + [Fixes light in the open embrasure, then places two others. Biades + falls back, mantling his face] + + _Hie._ To Phernes now! We must not boggle this! + + _Pyrr._ If you've a doubt, sir, look on that. [_Points to Biades_] + + _Hie._ I'll hasten back to you. + + _Bia._ But note our light. + The galley rowers may return ere you, + And move us to the east. + + _Hie._ I shall not lose you. + + _Bia._ What escort will you take? A noble one + Will best please Phernes. + + _Hie._ Mirador and Agis + Shall go with me. Meanthes shall remain + To be your watch. + + _Bia._ You'll tell them nothing? + + _Hie._ Sir, + I've sworn. I shall say naught but this. That Athens + Proffered you pardon, and you hold to Sparta. + + [_Exit Hieron. Pyrrha watches from the door until the boats put off. + The sea is now dark. Biades takes up a harp and strums it_] + + _Pyrr._ [_Turning_] You can do that? And I--I held my heart + At halt, there at the door, nor turned my head + Lest pity should emburn my eyes to tears. [_Crosses to him_] + Dost know that all the juniper in the world, + Burnt in thy house of honor, would not cleanse + Its doors of stench? [_Throws the harp aside_] And you can use that air + For breath of song! + + _Bia._ Those are the bitterest words + That ever dropped me gall, but I can find + A crushèd balsam in them,--for they say + You might have loved me, Pyrrha. + + _Pyrr._ I might. + + _Bia._ You did. + The moment that I cast my Spartan mask + And showed me true to Athens, you were mine. + That instant there was joy-fall on your heart + That swept its icy sentinels with fire, + And they were down. Oh, had I then proved staunch, + Ta'en helmet off to death and bade him strike, + You would have closed my eyes with kisses warm + As rose-drift on a tomb---- + + _Pyrr._ Nay, I'd have kept + Those eyes to be my light on earth, not star + Elysian skies. Had fought for you against + My mother Sparta. Fought as woman fights + For her one love,--with wit and armèd tongue, + And cunning that throws puzzle on the gods. + Fought till subduèd Death had knelt to Fate + And prayed your life for me! + + _Bia._ Have I lost that? + + _Pyrr._ You yielded--sank--unlustred even your soul + For a poor pinch of time---- + + _Bia._ But if some touch + Of heaven could make me true again---- + + _Pyrr._ Look on + Those lights, that you with single breath could turn + To weeping smoke,--they've lit a quenchless wreck + That all your sighs blow vain against,--a flame + Ungovernable to remorse. Not furrowing winds + That split the watery fields to Thetis' bed, + And make a foamy Ural of her shore, + Can sweep it out. Ay, groan and shake, + And draw your mantle up! Behind a cover + Thick as Taygetus' sides, I'd see you limned + In shame! + + _Bia._ [_Springing up_] What's shame to love? To love fire-sprung + From instant meeting of fore-strangered eyes? + And such was ours, there in that Athens' grove. + Imperial of itself, it asks no loan + Of subject virtue's smock to drape it royal. + As fen-born vapors seem to nest the stars, + Yet far below them do but thatch the world + When they look down, the vassal qualities + May lift no touch to love, that yet must wear, + To earth's unvantaged eyes, their reek and hue. + + _Pyrr._ Aerial love is but an earthling still, + It must come down for food or mortal die, + And what but virtues feed it? + + _Bia._ Nay, you speak + Of a fair, lesser thing,--a grace not lit + From thurible in uncreated Hand, + But coaxed from clay to a persuaded life. + Garbed as the days,--patched, plastered, hung with dear + Possessive vanities, it serves to make + Contentment's bed, and cook a patient meal + On comfort's hearth,--even snuggles in the void + That else might ache, sings low, and makes + Companioned feet tread bravely to the grave. + It has a thousand names, but never one + Is love. Be thine that white, ungendered spark, + And naught can feed it, naught can make it less. + Virtue and vice, nobility and shame, + Are rags that drop away, while you sweep on, + Stripped as a flame, with arms about your star. + + [_Pyrrha is silent. Both start at sound of a noise on the water_] + + _Pyrr._ What sound is that? + + _Bia._ The rowers are returning. + + _Pyrr._ So quietly? + + _Bia._ [_Goes to door and closes it_] The world shall not come in + On me and you. Be mine this broken hour, + And Hieron may flute through after-time + At secret doors where you lock up your favors. + For you will go with him. + + _Pyrr._ A prophet too? + + _Bia._ You'll make his home, but I shall come and go + The unseen master there. + + _Pyrr._ Now for the vision! + + _Bia._ You'll watch your door,--the unheard step is mine,-- + And rock the babe born of a dream of me. + And I, far-wandered, lost unto myself, + Shall never lose you, Pyrrha. As the light + Wrapping the wave reveals its silver dance, + My being shall exult through shade and wear + The chlamys of your gleam. Your voice behind + The wind shall draw me lover-lipped to meet + Adventure's breath. You'll lie upon the hush + That girdles evening,--be the thrill within + The throstle's note, and silence when + His song is done. + + _Pyrr._ Nay, it will speak of Phania, + Of Sybaris.---- + + _Bia._ Ay, and a hundred more + In whom I've sought for thee, my Pyrrha, always thee! + 'Twill speak of them as statues speak of shards + About their feet,--the sculptor's broken dreams + That made the perfect one. + [_The ship rocks_] + _Pyrr._ We're moving! + + _Bia._ Yes, + You know,--to safer waters. Listen, Pyrrha, + To me--to _me_! + + _Pyrr._ Those sounds---- + + _Bia._ [_Kneels_] Hear _me_! My head + I'll votive lay till you may set your feet + Like tangled roses in my curls---- + + [_Pyrrha springs toward the door, but Biades is before her. The noises + increase. Groans, blows, shouts_] + + _Pyrr._ Aside! + I'll pass! + + _Bia._ O, save our bones. I am the stronger. + You know 't. + + _Pyrr._ You! I'll wind you like a thread! + + _Bia._ You didn't. + + _Pyrr._ Didn't.... + + _Bia._ When we wrestled. + + _Pyrr._ When.... + Oh, _then_! My arm was lame. Come, I will pass! + + _Bia._ Nay, 'twas your heart that spared me! + + _Pyrr._ Ay, like this! + + [_Throws him aside. He staggers against the wall for support. She + opens door. Two soldiers in armor silently oppose spears to her + passage. She slowly closes the door_] + + _Pyrr._ Where are we going? + + _Bia._ You love me. What an arm! + 'Twas never lame! + + _Pyrr._ Come! Tell me what's our port, + Then I shall know one place we do _not_ go. + + _Bia._ Tut, love! Pry into men's affairs? Be calm---- + + _Pyrr._ What does this mean? [_Advancing_] I'll know! + + _Bia._ [_Retreating_] You shall! It means + "The last lie wins." We go to harbor. + + _Pyrr._ Ah!... + Those rowers.... + + _Bia._ Faithful and fleet as ever bore + An Athenian general home. They came upon + Your signal---- + + _Pyrr._ Mine? + + _Bia._ They lay at watch, not Phernes. + Look on those lights! O, trinal star, set high + By my beloved! My honor's flaming hedge---- + + _Pyrr._ You fly, + But in a net! The Spartans heard those shouts. + They are in chase--you'll see---- + + _Bia._ They're unprepared. + The captains off their ships, the guards in doubt, + And oarsmen half asleep. But let them come + Far as they dare, and if they dare too far + From Persia's shelter, the Athenian fleet + Will close like jaws about them. + + _Pyrr._ [_Sits, with sudden hopelessness_] You have won, + My lord. + + _Bia._ I have. + + _Pyrr._ What will you do with me? + + _Bia._ I'll wed thee, sweet. + + _Pyrr._ I'll not---- + + _Bia._ Yes, love, you will. + There is a dagger hangs in Phelas' shop, + Shall be your bridal gift. A prizèd blade + Of coppered gold, hued like a battle morning. + Smooth-cheeked as Artemis, although inlaid + With pictured tale. A captured Amazon, + Wrought palely in alloy,--a silvered fear + On th' bronzen flush of courage,--bows before + Her conqueror, a knight who gently bends + As I do now---- + + _Pyrr._ [_Thrusting him off_] No! Never! I'll not trust + Your dolphin nature! Long as fish have fins + You'll sport in every sea! Go--go to Phania! + + _Bia._ [_Turns angrily from her_] Ay, by my gods that I have found again, + I shall wed none but an Athenian maid! + [_Pyrrha swoons. He rushes to her_] + Her heart is still. O, curse my double-tongue! + She's dead--she's dead! She takes the Spartan way-- + To die, not yield! Oh, Pyrrha, Pyrrha, Pyrrha! + [_Rushes about distractedly_] + I will not live! I'll leap into the sea! + + _Pyrr._ [_On her elbow, as he reaches door_] You might catch cold. + [_He stares at her. She sits up_] + Is this your grace in love? + Your pictured ease, with no dissuasive line? + + _Bia._ O, Pyrrha, peace! Let us be done with cheat + And mockery! + + _Pyrr._ [_Rising_] My heart on that, my lord! + + _Bia._ Own thou art mine! My world when sunsets die! + My breath of meadows lying past the moon! + Compassionate this earth, and in my soul + Fix thee its centre. Say thou'lt come! + + _Pyrr._ My lord, + Could I be sure.... + + _Bia._ Ah, Pyrrha, there's no light + Falls from thine eye that does not sway me like + A bee in rose wind-shaken. I am thine. + There'll be no battle, but a nuptial feast + With three great armies for our brothered guests. + Your land and mine are one. Give me your hand. + + _Pyrr._ I will. For Sparta's sake. + + _Bia._ And love's! + + _Pyrr._ [_Giving her hand_] And love's. + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT V + + +SCENE: _The garden of Pelagon, as in first act. Enter youths and maidens +dancing about Pyrrha and Biades. They sing:_ + + + Hymen, god of bended knees, + Who would gain to thee must lose! + Take from us thy merry fees, + Though our fairest thou dost choose,-- + Pyrrha and our Biades! + + Fling the garland and the wreath! + Roses, roses consecrate, + That upgive their happy breath + In an ardor 'neath our feet, + Kissing fortune in their death! + + Sparta's won, and Athens' wed! + Shyest hours of midnight, bring + Charm and blessing for the bed + Whence a fairer Greece shall spring + And her golden peace be bred! + + [_They dance off, lower right, as Pelagon and Stesilaus enter middle + left_] + + _Pel._ Ha, neatly sung! By Hermes, they have made + A tickling in my sandals. + + _Ste._ Frivol! + + _Pel._ Eh? + Nay, youth must wind his horn---- + + _Ste._ Not in my ears! + + _Pel._ Though he never come to the hunt. But Biades + Has run the chase, and's bravely home again, + The game in pack. + + _Ste._ Too noble game for him! + My girl! That I should ever play the sire + To a fop of Athens! + + _Pel._ If the burn's so raw, + You've secret salve for it. + + _Ste._ Yes. 'Tis not my blood + That so forgets its source! + + _Pel._ Sh! Stesilaus! + A little butter on the tongue, my friend, + Does no man harm. + + _Ste._ Butter a hackle, not + My tongue! If I'm so rubbed, I'll rasp the winds + Till they sprout ears. Don't "sh" me, Pelagon. + I'll muffle in no corners. + + _Pel._ Hist, I say---- + + _Ste._ Don't zizz into my beard! We are not curs + To nose and smell in council! + + _Pel._ Ruin's on us! + You will be heard---- + + [_Enter Menas, upper right_] + + _Menas._ Joy to the noble fathers! + Sweet saviors of our city! + + _Ste._ Sweet! + + _Menas._ What says + Our Stesilaus? + + _Pel._ Ahem! The Spartan joy + Is ever dumb. But see him stirred to heart + That by a gift from out his very life, + His dearest daughter, peace is home in Athens, + And's forced no more to camp and cadge and beg + At our shut gates. Yet it goes hard to part + Wi' the fairest branch on's tree. + + _Menas._ In Biades + He finds a treasured son. + + _Ste._ By a mermaid's shoes, + A precious son! + + _Menas._ How, sir? + + _Pel._ Indeed, indeed, + A jewel of a son! Will you, friend Menas, + Float with the senators, and bring to shore + Report of how they drift,--what currents favor + And what now counter us? + + _Menas._ I'll go, my lords, + To hear the latest honor they conclude + Best caps your fame, and bring it in a word. [_Exit Menas_] + + _Ste._ I had two minds to throw the truth in 's face + And see him strangle on it. + + _Pel._ Friend, wouldst make + My old knees creak to earth? I sue to you + Be soft as prudence. Shall we now be false + To our dearly tended hope--united Greece? + Now when the fact is on us, and our dream + Walks in the day? I beg you clear your heart + Of selfish fire that eats the very pattern + Of love's new world. It is ungraced, perverse + As altar flame that would devour the shrine + 'Twas lit to honor. + + _Ste._ Think of Greece? What's Greece, + When my own daughter pairs with---- + + _Pel._ Nay, but mine. + When you are bitterest set, say to yourself + She's of my loins, and when more softly taken, + Then call her yours. But openly be constant + To a father's right in her, and proudly sire + Her honors. And 's for Biades, he's but + A brocket yet, his antlers barely bossed. + My oath upon it, your reshaping hand + Firm-cupped about his overweening spring, + Will be a second cradle where he'll grow + Fair to your fashion. Think on that. + + _Ste._ I will. + There's comfort. Ay, so, so. The terms of peace + Make him a Spartan. Pyrrha stood with me + Stout-willed on that. + + _Pel._ Then whist! You trust your wife? + + _Ste._ You speak to Stesilaus. + + _Pel._ Eh, I know + You've her in hand. My Sachinessa now-- [_Sighs_] + But she loves Phania best. That locks her tongue. + And, friend, do you not see the high all-ruling Will + Has moved behind our own? + + _Ste._ I think it so. + Our aim achieves its heaven, though we smart + Beneath it. To the outer glozing fame + That now attires us splendent, we may add + Inmost applause. When we exchanged our babes, + 'Twas for this end and day, and had we held + To our first intent and taken our own again, + Our hope had died unfruitive. 'Twas there + That deity came in and shifted us + To th' true sybillic course. + + _Pel._ Who dares say else? + We'll wear the issue as a sacred robe + Fallen on us from Olympus. + + _Ste._ Which our wisdom + Fits comely to us. Forget it not, such gift + Had been withheld from minds too poor to be + The heirs of Zeus. + + _Pel._ But if the clay-eyed mob, + Whose pottage traffic up Olympian paths + Blocks commerce godly and invisible---- + + _Ste._ Tush, cut the string, if you have aught in bag. + + _Pel._ Why, I would say if some of grosser sight + Than our two selves, should fumble on our secret + That Pyrrha is Athens born---- + + _Ste._ Nay, put your fears + In pocket. It shall not be known. + + [_Enter Biades_] + + _Bia._ Ha, nunky! + Where is my happy father? [_Sees Stesilaus_] A suit, my lord! + I've Pyrrha's leave to make our home in Athens + If thou wilt bless our dwelling. Crave thy grace + For sake of her in whom thy pride best flowers! + Here she'll o'erlay all Spartan crudity + With suavest bloom, and take e'en native place + Where Athens' love would set her. + + _Ste._ Never, sir! [_Exit, middle left_] + + _Bia._ The gray fox snaps. Ho, but I'll draw his teeth, + And he shall yelp for 't too! + + _Pel._ Shame, sir! Not give + The road to him? The father of your bride? + + _Bia._ I will when she's his daughter. + + _Pel._ What! What, boy? + + _Bia._ I say when she's his daughter. Let that in + At your good ear, and in the t'other one + I'll call _you_ father. + + _Pel._ Ruin! It's come! + + _Bia._ Who thinks + I'd make that Spartan grunt my father, knows + Not me! What? Set that boding beard at head + Of my Athenian house? Or go to Sparta + To hut me where I would not ask a stall + For a borrowed horse? + + _Pel._ But---- + + _Bia._ Scratch my helpless throat + With bread a pig would stick at? Swallow brew + Of salt and soot? And chafe my pumiced skin + With itching linsey?--or an untanned hide, + As man were still the beast that wore it? + + _Pel._ Peace, + My son---- + + _Bia._ Say grace for leeks and goose-foot? + + _Pel._ But---- + + _Bia._ Though Eros pinned me head and foot with shafts, + I've saved my eyes, bless my united wits, + And know the high-road! I'll not lose me on + A pig-trail to a sty. + + _Pel._ But if these Spartans hear + They'll sack the city! Zeus deliver us! + We're lost! we're lost! Oh, Biades! + + _Bia._ [_Calm_] Talk in a muff, good father Pelagon, + Or we indeed are lost. + + _Pel._ You'll keep the secret? + + _Bia._ A time. I've plans in seed will make all Sparta + A garden for my Athens, where her fame + Shall browse to its tallest. Trust me, Pelagon. + I'm still a general! + + [_Enter, lower right, young men who surround Biades, and press him off, + singing_] + + Gander now must keep with goose! + Biades, O, Biades, + Thou shalt ne'er the cord unloose, + For the mighty god decrees + He shall hang who dares the noose! + + [_Re-enter Stesilaus_] + + _Ste._ He's gone? I took + My anger off where it might safely blow. + This path brushed clear by Heaven must not be closed + By our stumbling selves. The widgeon! He would fly + Above the eagle, but I'll snip his feathers, + Give me good time! He'd live in Athens, ha! + And swore on Hera's altar he would be + A son of Sparta! + + _Pel._ Nay, I noted, sir, + That Sparta was not named in 's oath. + + _Ste._ What now? + + _Pel._ Naught, naught, my friend! Yet he but swore to make + The land of Pyrrha his. + + _Ste._ And what meant that + But Sparta? If his warm wooer's oath must cool, + We've winters that will do it. + + _Pel._ Caution's best. + Slow-mare will get you home. + + _Ste._ A year or two + Of good black bread, and free winds on his skin + Will take the maiden from his cheeks and set + A true man's beard there. Tush! I thought that Fate, + Granting my main desire, gave me this plague, + Which, with the rest, now proves my life has pleased + High arbiters. You're silent, Pelagon. + + _Pel._ No, no! Yes, yes! I think so. 'Tis indeed! + + _Ste._ Come, come, my friend! We will go forth and meet + The occasion as a guest, bethinking us + We walk between mankind and deity. + + [_They start out and are met by Alcanor and Phania who fall before + them_] + + _Pha._ [_Kneeling to Stesilaus_] Your blessing, father! + + _Alc._ [_At Pelagon's feet_] Blessing, dearest father! + + _Pel._ What, what! + + _Pha._ [_To Stesilaus_] Forgive your child! + + _Alc._ The priest---- + + _Ste._ My child? + + _Alc._ The priest has made us one. + + _Pel._ What priest? Who dared + Defile the altar with such rite? + + _Alc._ [_Rising_] Defile? + Though you're my Phania's father, you shall cast + No stain upon that holy ceremony + Whose odor yet is round us. Sir, the priest + Has blessed us. Do you as you please. Come, Phania! + Come, sweet! We'll smile at this. Though a father's curse + Bethorn our way, a gentler heaven will drop + Its soft approval where thy feet must pass. [_Going_] + + _Pel._ Speak, Stesilaus! Stop your wretched son! + + _Alc._ Not wretched, sir, while Phania is my own. + We shall be blest when you, too late, beseech + Unhearing gods forgive you this! + + _Pel._ Stay, sir! + O, miserable boy! + + _Pha._ No, father, no! + He's happy in my love as leaf in air, + As the sea-crystalled fish, as lotos in + Its pool,--and I--O, sir, my joy has wings, + And tho' I love you dear and daughterly,-- + Who gave me life,--your anger has no weight + To keep my feet on earth. Like twirling lark + Too high for storm to reach, I dance above + Displeasure's cloud. [_Trips off with Alcanor_] + + _Pel._ Sweet wretches! Here's a turn! + My little Phania! Friend, what shall we do? + + _Ste._ Again the finger of the gods. + + _Pel._ The gods + To limbo! I will save my daughter! + + _Ste._ Yours? + + _Pel._ Yea, by each hour of prattle at my knee! + By all my care that's been her constant nurse, + And every joy that from devotion sprang + To meet me like a flower as she grew, + She's mine, mine, mine! Oh, Stesilaus, oh, + Whosever she may be, I love the chick, + And she shall not be damned! + + [_Enter, upper left, Sachinessa and Archippe_] + + _Ste._ Here's a reproach + Comes with a dual mouth. If we show doubt, + They'll put us under pestle. Rally, sir! + + _Sac._ [_To Archippe_] Are you all lump? Pick up your courage. Why! + The gods are gods by their audacity. + I'll bring it off. Now, Pelagon? + + _Pel._ [_Who has turned to flee_] What, you, + My love? + + _Sac._ Such heavy news! Enough to make + The gods no more co-venture with a world + Augmented so! + + _Pel._ What, Sachinessa, what? + + _Sac._ Our Phania's married to Alcanor. + + _Pel._ Eh? + + _Sac._ Now are you pleased? Now is your cruelty + Full-fed, or must it glut again? + + _Pel._ My sweet---- + + _Sac._ You'll meddle with high Zeus! Have you enough? + + _Pel._ Oh, Sachinessa! + + _Sac._ Brother and sister bound + In an abhorrent union that will drive + Their shades forever from Elysian ground! + Nay, even Hades will make fast her gates + 'Gainst such offenders, innocently vile! + Archippe, speak to that unbending man, + Half author of this shame! I'd thin his beard + If Heaven had mocked me with his long, smug face + For husband! Ugh! The whiskered horse! + + _Arc._ Dumb, sir? + You've no defence?--no master argument + To prove your wisdom's never off the road + To Zeus' gate? Not once in all your life, + Although your daughter's to her brother wedded? + + _Ste._ 'Tis well. I can not doubt the gods. + + [_They stare at him_] + + _Arc._ Her brother born? + So foul a hap? + + _Ste._ A thing too dread in thought, + And in the act unutterable if Zeus + Be unconcerned in it. Therefore believe + His hand here moves, and holy majesty + O'errules the mortal scruple, so dividing + This horror from its kind. May it not be + The blood of Stesilaus hath in 'ts flow + A heavenly tinct that makes it not a sin, + But rather virtue, to keep pure the stream + From baser founts? They've done no more than kings + And gods before them. + + _Sac._ Pelagon, _your_ croak! + + _Pel._ I take a lower ground, my dearest dove. + All Athens knows me modest---- + + _Sac._ Ay to that! + Can blush as deep as any crow that flies! + + _Pel._ Now, now! From first to last I've held it truth + That breeding scantles birth, and on that count + Make Phania our daughter. + + _Sac._ Oh, you do? + + _Pel._ I stand on this, that training is the man. + Or woman, let us say, and not the blood + We buried with our fathers. So these two + Mate not ancestrally, but in their lives + That distantly upbred have not between them + A structural thread to bind them of one house. + + _Sac._ What men are these? + + _Arc._ I am no more afraid + Of him I thought was Stesilaus. + + _Ste._ Listen, + You women. Though we are thus righted---- + + _Sac._ Humph! + + _Ste._ In man's and Heaven's eye, we yet will bow + To your own wish in this. As once we gave + Your sighs the right of way, we now will ease + This second woe by taking swiftest means + To part this clucking pair. + + _Sac._ You'll yield to _us_? + + _Arc._ How like you, Sachinessa, this high place + Above the gods? + + _Sac._ They shall be parted? + + _Ste._ Ay, + We do consent. + + _Sac._ Nay, you shall please yourselves. + For my own part, I will not break their bonds + And set their hearts a-bleeding. + + _Arc._ No, nor I. + + _Ste._ How now, vapidity? + + _Arc._ I mean, my lord, + You have convinced me, and this marriage bond + Shall be as Zeus has made it. + + _Sac._ Pelagon, + Your reason captures mine, and I repent + My mockery. This strange event's no more + Uncouth, now you have pried the way for me + To wisdom's bed of truth. I clearly see + Thai man and woman of one mother born + May be no kin. The marriage shall stand. + + _Pel._ In name of Zeus! + + _Arc._ Yes, in his name. + + _Ste._ Nay, wife, + We know your simple heart, and read its horror + Through this pretence so suddenly clapped on. + We shall reject a forced and sad submission---- + + _Pel._ Ay, ay, we shall! I'll act at once, and stop + Their kisses, riveting a bond unblessed---- + + _Sac._ Unblessed? + + _Pel._ My golden joy, I speak your thought + Not mine. + + [_A clamor in street_] + + _Ste._ They come for us. + + _Pel._ I hear my name. + We'll out and greet them. + + _Ste._ No, my friend. + Let them come in unnoted. + + _Pel._ Ay, we'll sit + Withdrawn, in gentle argument. Here's shade. + + [_They go aside. Enter Lysander, Agis, Creon, Menas, and a score of + Spartans and Athenians_] + + _Lys._ Is Stesilaus here? We must be heard. + + _Arc._ He's here. + + _Menas._ And Pelagon! Where's Pelagon? + + _Sac._ His good ear's toward, sir. + + _Pel._ [_Unable to keep aside_] Did I not hear + My name? + + _Sac._ Why, so I said. + + _Agis._ [_Advancing to Stesilaus_] My lord, we come---- + + _Ste._ What haste, good Agis? Goes the world so fast? + + _Agis._ As fast as Fate can drive it, and you, my lord, + Are under foot. + + _Pel._ [_Who has been listening to Menas_] You hear it, Stesilaus! + Athens is ashes! We're betrayed, betrayed! + + [_Biades, Pyrrha, Phania, Alcanor, and their companions + swarm in, lower right_] + + _Ste._ Silence, and let us hear! Now, Agis, speak. + + _Agis._ And grieve that 'tis my part. The Spartans know + Your treachery---- + + _Ste._ Who dares to give such a name + To deed of mine? + + _Agis._ Denial comes too far + Behind the proof, my lord. + + _Ste._ The proof? What proof? + + _Lys._ 'Tis known to all. The very curb cries out + That Pyrrha is Athenian born, the child + Of Pelagon. + + _Pyrr._ Oh, Zeus! + + _Bia._ Bear up, my Pyrrha! + + _Agis._ Ay, Athens weds with Athens, and on that + You build the peace of Sparta! A bold deceit + Of yours and Pelagon's, whereby we're sold + To a foeman's pleasure! + + _A Spartan._ Though the heart of Athens + Be in the knot that binds your traitorous bargain, + We'll cut it through! + + _Agis._ Will you deny you changed + Your babes in cradle? + + [_Silence_] + + _Bia._ Pray you, who revealed + This ancient secret? + + _Menas._ Creon came---- + + _Bia._ Ah, Creon! + + _Menas._ Before the senate, then in seat to unfold + From rivalrous invention, topless honors + For these two lords, whose guilt had long devoured + Such labor's root and reason. + + _Bia._ Creon came? + + _Menas._ And bared the tale, made his by accident, + And swore you knew it too,--that Pyrrha there + Is Pelagon's daughter, and Phania is the child + Of Spartan Stesilaus. + + _Pha._ Oh, oh, oh! + + _Alc._ A rope for me then! + + _Cre._ [_To Biades_] Sir, I did not speak, + But trusted all to you, until the secret + Laid night on Phania's innocence and grew + Too foul to keep. + + _Pyrr._ You knew this, Biades? + + _Bia._ And knew you would forgive! + + _Pyrr._ This was the spring + Of all your oaths! In my espousèd hand + You'd lay my country's peace, knowing her name + Was Attica! This was your proof of love. + The oilèd wedge that let you in my heart! + False in the trothal moment that should make + The foulest for an instant pure! + + _Bia._ But hear---- + + _Pyrr._ Oh, in that hour which women wrap in rose + And hide where thoughts like guardian doves may go, + You set a cautel touching it with death + That leaves me treasureless! + + _Bia._ My Pyrrha,---- + + _Pyrr._ Not yours! + + _Bia._ Howe'er 'twas done, I won you! + + _Pyrr._ Won a Spartan! + Now keep the shadow. As an Athenian maid + I do renounce you! [_Escapes him_] + + _Bia._ Ah! Zeus loves the dice. + He's always at the game. But who'd have thought + This throw would be against me? Hear me, sweet! + [_To Stesilaus_] + Dear father, speak to her. She'll heed your voice, + Your judgment ripe, and words set out like cups + With wisdom's honey. + + _Pel._ [_Awake to fathership_] Ay, my son, I will! + + _Bia._ Not you, in name of hope! [_Follows Pyrrha_] + + _Alc._ Monsters of fatherhood, how dare you show + Your faces in this sun? Go seek some cave + Whose darkest den will not betray a shame + Of its own hue! No, Phania, do not cling + To my unwilling breast that now must be + A hedge of swords to your bird bosom. [_Holds her tightly_] + + _Pha._ Oh! + + _Cre._ Withdraw your hand, proud Spartan! + + _Alc._ I will protect + My sister, sir, from any lord of Athens! + + _Sac._ Look, Pelagon,--and Stesilaus,--here! + Look on this warbling joy hatched tenderly + In nest of your conceit, which you've kept warm + Forgetting you had hearts where love bechid + Sat in unfeathered cold. If you are fathers, + Drink of their ecstasy till every vein + Applauds it! + + _Lys._ Pray you, peace! The Senators! + + [_Enter Amentor and other Senators_] + + _Ste._ What's your demand? + + _Amen._ Your life, Lord Stesilaus. + And that of Pelagon, in Athens' name. + + _Pel._ My life? + + _Amen._ Not less will still this wind and save + Our homes from undefended sack. They've seized + The citadel---- + + _Bia._ Then on my armor! Wife + May whistle when the bugle calls! + + _Amen._ Stay, sir! + The Spartans are in power, and any check + Means slaughter. There's no help. The Persian fleet + Has sailed. The Athenians drop their useless arms + And follow at command, knowing no way + To win but by a bloodless yielding. + + _Bia._ Yield! + + _Amen._ Sir, we must grant the Spartans these two lives, + Whereon they'll strike no further. So they swear. + + _Sac._ [_To Pelagon_] This is your downy Peace wooed from the clouds + To hover over Athens! Save the name! + She's from a briar-patch, not Heaven! Her wings + Are full of burrs! + + _Bia._ [_Holding Pelagon_] Stand to! A scuttled ship + Has no choice deck. There's nothing to be saved + But dignity. + + _Pel._ Nay, that's for Stesilaus! [_Breaking away_] + My life, my life! + + [_Noise mounts without. The wall is broken through, rear, and the + breach reveals the street filled with angry Spartans_] + + _Amen._ Peace! + + _Gir._ Give us Stesilaus! + + _Voices._ And Pelagon! The traitors! Give them up! + + _Amen._ You see them. There they stand. + [_Misses Pelagon_] + Where's Pelagon? + + _Voices._ We have him here! Bring Stesilaus! + + _Arc._ Hold! + I am Archippe. Let me speak. + + _Voices._ No mercy! + + _Arc._ I ask none, friends. The wife of Stesilaus + Is not so much in 's debt she owes him aught + On mercy's score. + + _Gir._ Then speak. + + _Arc._ Is Philon here? + The reverend priest? + + _Voices._ He comes! Make way! He's here! + + [_Philon comes out_] + + _Philon._ Speak first, Archippe. I'll follow you. + + _Arc._ My friends, + I'm such a one as you do most contemn,-- + A woman disobedient to her lord. + But if you judgment give upon that point, + Remember that my lord is Stesilaus. + When this my daughter here,--yes, Pyrrha, she,-- + Child of my nurturing blood,---- + + _Voices._ What? What? Your child? + + _Amen._ Silence! Speak on, Archippe. + + _Arc._ When she lay + A morsel cradled, two months' breath in her, + Came he, the father, swearing she must go + To Sachinessa's breast, and I must take + Her Phania to my own,--thereby to serve + In some occulted way the future good + Of Greece. And all the mercy won from him + Was leave to journey with my child to Athens---- + + _Sac._ But I was not so meek! By Pallas, no! + What--who--was Pelagon, to rob my bosom + Of Hera's gift? Who made him greater than + The gods? 'Tis but a girl, he said, to me, + A mother! I went to Philon then, the priest + Whom Athens honors, and by holy counsel, + We did not change our babes, but let our deed + Wear face that pleased them, with a heart our own, + And home Archippe went with Pyrrha safe, + While I in Athens held my Phania close. + And they, fond sires, who knew no difference + Between a _girl_ and _girl_, hugged their deep plan + And built the phantom of united Greece + Upon it. + + _Arc._ If those ghostly towers, now fallen, + May rise again, it is our act, my lords, + Provides them nature's base, and not a dream's. + Condemn us, if you will, as erring wives, + But as true mothers give us softer justice. + And if there's scale or balance that can hold + Such torturous weight, lay on it all the pain + Of lonely years that saw me turn my face + From my loved daughter, lest this man of rock + Should know her mine and his. + + _Pyrr._ Your own, your own, + My mother! + + _Ste._ So you slip me, dame, + And Pyrrha goes with you. But Biades + Is under thumb by this same turn. He now + Must know himself a Spartan, and shall keep + My terms. + + _Arc._ Make them full easy. You shall lay + No marring hand upon our children's joy + As fell on mine. + + _Bia._ O, sue for me, Archippe! + Give me my bride! Whatever be her race, + Her home is in my arms! + + _Arc._ Forgive him, Pyrrha. + Not for his pleading, but for love I know + You bear him. + + [_Pyrrha permits Biades to embrace her_] + + _Alc._ [_To Phania_] Sweet, we know our heaven by + Those moments in a hell. + + _Amen._ Here's feast enough! + + _Bia._ But poor old Creon in this rain of porridge + Starves for a spoon. + + _Cre._ And you, perforce, take one + Of Spartan make. + + _Bia._ I'm caught. But in love's lap. + I'll swallow Sparta for so dear a bed. + + _Menas._ And you need fear no distaff tyranny, + My lord. There you are safe. Although your bride + Be Hera-limbed, you've proved yourself her Zeus + In open match. + + _Cre._ How if her movèd heart + Crept to her arm and slipped the victory + Unwon to love? + + [_Biades is suddenly embarrassed_] + + _Pyrr._ [_With a caress of assurance_] If that were so, my lords, + My pride would harbor his, and none should know + My secret. + + _Ste._ Senators, and men of Athens, + Art dumb when justice waits on you for voice? + What censure have you for these rebel wives, + And this unsainted priest? + + _Amen._ [_To Philon_] You counselled them + To their deceit? + + _Philon._ I did. + + _Amen._ You've no defence? + + _Philon._ I need none. + + _Ste._ Ha! + + _Philon._ Whoso reveres the gods + Draws of their strength in every mortal inch, + And in this act I did them reverence, + Standing between their wish and meddling wits + Of these presumptive men. But pardon them. + For it is shame enough to've thought to make + A frislet of their own shake like the locks + Of cloud-haired Zeus. For me, my hand is on + My altar, and I fear no fall. + + _Amen._ No more, + Good Philon. + + _Philon._ Ay, a word, This morning, sir, + I blessed the couple here, knowing them free + Of kindred blood,--Alcanor and his Phania. + The strands are doubly woven that now bind + Sparta and Athens. Pyrrha and Biades + Were first to link them one, and now this pair + Unites them o'er. + + _Amen._ You hear, my Spartan friends. + What say you? Is it peace? + + _Spartans._ Peace be to Athens! + + _Amen._ And peace to Sparta! Hearts and altars guard it! + Go, citizens! See that the chariots + Glow with new garlands for this double bridal. + And let the noble wives of these proud lords + Co-queen festivity. All shall rejoice + Save this convicted pair,--you, Pelagon, + And Stesilaus. You we prison here, + Your own sole company, nor shall you speak + Save in a rhyme now dim with little use, + But shall be better known from this day forth + With polish you shall give it. Hear it, sirs: + + _The man who would his own pie bake_ + _Must from his wife ten fingers take._ + + [_Curtain falls and rises. Pelagon and Stesilaus are discovered, + their backs to each other, the only occupants of the garden. + Through the breach in the wall the festal procession is seen + passing. Curtain_] + + + * * * * * + + + + +KIDMIR + +A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS + + + + +_CHARACTERS_ + + + OSWALD, _Earl of Clyffe_ + BERTRAND, _sometime_ VAIRDELAN, _his son_ + CHARILUS, _a Greek_ + ARDIA, _his daughter_ + BIONDEL _and_ VIGARD, _sons of Charilus_ + BANISSAT, _Prince of Avesta_ + PRINCE FREDERICK + BERENICE, _his daughter_ + GAINA, _serving-woman to Ardia_ + BARCA, _servant to Charilus_ + RAMUNIN, _a headsman_ + SEVEN MAIDENS, _friends of Ardia_ + + _Followers of Banissat, soldiers of Oswald, nobles, wedding-guests, + dancers, guards, &c._ + + Time: _During the later Crusades_ + Place: _The southern coast of Asia Minor_ + + + + +ACT I + + +SCENE: _A hall in the castle of Charilus on the heights of Kidmir. The +open rear, through which is seen a sunset sky, leads to a parapet +overlooking the city of Avesta and the coast of Suli. Entrances right +and left of parapet. Midway down, right, the door to a chamber._ + +_Charilus stands on parapet and looks down toward Avesta. Barca waits +within the hall._ + + + _Char._ O, sea-washed city, must the hail of fire + Crimson thy milky walls, and salt winds strive + In vain to sweeten ditches dark with blood + From thy tapped heart? Come, Barca, be my eyes, + Who climbs the heights? + + [_Barca advances and looks over_] + + _Barca._ Lords Vigard and Biondel + Are on the pass. + + _Char._ My sons so soon returned! + No other? + + _Barca._ Farther down, my lord, I see + The knight, Sir Vairdelan. + + _Char._ Then we shall hear + His sunset song. + + _Barca._ The stairway through the cliff + Is closed. Shall I give signal, sir, to hoist + The upper gate? + + _Char._ That is my charge henceforth. [_Going left_] + They will be hungered. [_Turns to Barca_] + Scant the board in nothing. [_Exit left_] + + [_Gaina enters, right, rear, carrying a tray piled with candles_] + + _Gaina._ Thank goodness, Barca, you're where you're wanted for once! + Help me with these winkers. [_Giving him candles_] My mistress kept me + out on the cliffs when I ought to 'a' been inside an hour ago doing my + honest work. I got her in at last, but I had to be round with her, poor + soul! I told her what! + + _Barca._ [_Placing candles_] She was watching for her brothers? + + _Gaina._ [_Puts tray down_] Brothers! It was a sight of that singing + knight she wanted. He went down the pass this morning and she has gone + about all day like a bird with a sore throat. + + _Barca._ God gave her eyes, and Sir Vairdelan is good to see. When I + look at him I feel somehow as if the sun were just up and everybody had + another chance. + + _Gaina._ A man who lets his sword rust at home while he goes about + tootle-de-rooling on a flute! And she could be the princess of Avesta + if she'd look in the right place. Well, if she had _my_ eyes! + + _Barca._ What! You would have your mistress marry Banissat? An + unbeliever? + + _Gaina._ A prince is a prince,--and I'd say the same if my mistress + were my own daughter. + + _Barca._ And you a Christian! + + _Gaina._ A Christian of Corinth, I'd have you know. There are Christians + and Christians, please you! And for my mistress, dear heart, it would + take more than marrying a prince to send her to--to---- + + _Barca._ Let it out. + + _Gaina._ Hell, then,--if you want to bite ginger. And who but Banissat + can stand between her father and that English Oswald--who is just plain + devil and not an Englishman at all---- + + _Barca._ Devil? A knight of the Cross leading the army of the Lord to + Jerusalem. + + _Gaina._ Nobody but the devil, I tell you! And I wouldn't speak to him + if I met him walking with Saint Peter, unless he showed me his bare feet + with ten good toes on 'em. It might be all right for Peter, but a woman + can't be too careful, and the master took me out of a good family in + Corinth. And this Vairdelan who is no more a knight than I'm a lady--the + next time he goes down the pass he will lose his way up again, or my + head's a goose-egg, that's all! + + _Barca._ Gently, Gaina. You were young once. + + _Gaina._ Once? I've more hairs than wrinkles yet, which some can't say + and tell the truth! + + _Barca._ Tongue in! Here's the master. [_Moves right_] + + _Gaina._ My candles! + + [_Seizes tray and goes out, right, as Charilus re-enters left_] + + _Char._ [_To Barca_] Look to the supper. + [_Exit Barca, right. Charilus crosses to parapet and looks down_] + Doubt-blown city, rest. + Sleep on my heart. You shall not bleed for me. + + [_Enter Ardia from chamber midway right_] + + _Ard._ Alone, my father? + + _Char._ Never alone, and yet + My wish was calling thee. [_Sits, and draws her beside him_] + + _Ard._ Ah, not one guard + About thee? + + _Char._ The only guard is always near,-- + A fearless heart. + + _Ard._ Then I have none. My heart + Is made of fears. + + _Char._ No charm but love will lift + Our gates of rock. + + _Ard._ But who knows love from hate + In days like these? Some foe with friendship's eyes, + Some secret knife of Oswald's---- + + _Char._ None may tread + The guarded pass save our knight Vairdelan + And your two brothers. + + _Ard._ Vairdelan is late. + Why went he down? + + _Char._ Knights true as he, my girl, + Are never questioned. + + _Ard._ [_Starting_] Who are at the gates? + + _Char._ Your brothers come. + + _Ard._ So soon? That means good news + From Banissat. He'll be your strength against + This mighty Oswald. + + _Char._ Fair his word may be, + But I go down the pass. + + _Ard._ Go down? To meet + That fiend? + + _Char._ The man who calls himself my foe, + But named of God my brother. + + _Ard._ O, too much + Thou lovest love! A fiend, I say! + + _Char._ That name + Give unto me when I consent to piece + This spun-out life with breath of babes and gasp + Of dying mothers. Would you feed these veins, + Gelid and old, all golden venture done, + With the warm waste of youth whose savèd stream + Might bear mankind unto the port of gods? + + _Ard._ But you--you are my father! + + _Char._ It is such cries + Unsettle justice till her shaken scales + Weigh nations 'gainst a heart. + + _Ard._ Must I not love you? + + _Char._ My Ardia, fair as though thou wert not mine, + Or wert all hers who made gray Corinth young, + The love that feeds behind a sheltered door + Must be unroofed and take its bread of stars + Ere it may answer to its holy name. + The heart must build no walls---- + + _Ard._ I build them not, + But find them risen about me. You are here, + Guardful and best, fending my eyes,--there stands + My Biondel,--there Vigard brave,--and there.... + + _Char._ And there, my daughter? + + _Ard._ Hark! 'Tis Vairdelan's voice! + + [_Singing heard below_] + + O fires that build upon the sea + Till wave and foam of ye are part, + And burn in mated ecstasy, + Ye build again within my heart. + + O clouds that breathe in flame and run + In linkèd dreams along the sky + In me the fire is never done, + Though Eve's gray hand soon puts ye by. + + Christ be my Hand of Eve upon + The flame that tireless, fadeless leaps! + Haste holily, O Mary's moon, + With dew for fire that never sleeps! + + [_Ardia keeps a listening attitude, not heeding the entrance of her + brothers who come on left_] + + _Char._ Well, sons? + + _Bion._ Ay, well! That is the word we bring. + Avesta's prince, the gracious Banissat, + Is now your sworn defender. + + _Ard._ [_Turning_] And asks no price? + + _Bion._ No more than your fair self, my sister. + + _Vig._ [_As Ardia stands silent_] You doubt? + 'Tis true. He'll make you princess! + + _Ard._ He is old.... + + _Bion._ What call you old? He's in the fairest top + Of manhood. + + _Vig._ Old! + + _Ard._ And cannot sing.... + + _Vig._ Not sing! + + _Ard._ What need have we of him? Can Oswald scale + These rock-barred heights? + + _Vig._ Starvation can. + + _Ard._ We've food + Will last three harvest moons. + + _Bion._ And Oswald camps + Where plain and sea will feed ten thousand men + As many years. + + _Vig._ While here our skeletons + With bleachèd grin may watch the feast below! + + _Ard._ To starve ... is that so terrible? 'Tis but + One way of dying. + + _Vig._ Dying? + + _Char._ Say no more. + The morrow's dawn shall light my way to Oswald. + + _Bion._ You'll go to him? Then death! + + _Vig._ [_To Ardia_] See what you do? + + _Ard._ Forgive me. [_Runs to her father and clings to him_] + Now! Bind me to Banissat. + + _Char._ Nay, thou art free. + + _Bion._ [_To Ardia_] Our lives shall thank you. + + _Vig._ Thanks? + You speak her part. + + [_Ardia leaves her father and moves to edge of parapet_] + + _Bion._ [_Following her_] Dost know a better way? + + _Ard._ I pray you, leave me. + + _Vig._ Princess of Avesta! + + _Ard._ Your supper waits. + + _Vig._ [_Starting right_] Come, brother! + + _Char._ Though I've supped, + I'll sit with you, my sons. Discourse is ever + The best dish at the board. + + _Bion._ We thank you, sir. + + [_Exeunt Biondel, Vigard, Charilus, right_] + + _Ard._ And am I wooed and won? Dreams of a dream, + Where are ye now?... A lover with no song. + No carols stealing sweetness from the moon; + No trembling hand to drop a morning rose + Where I may walk. + [_Takes a rose from her bosom and casts it away_] + No rose.... no Vairdelan! + + [_Re-enter Gaina_] + + _Gaina._ Here, mistress? Dearie dear, a-weeping? + + _Ard._ No. + + _Gaina._ Say you were, 'twere a better sight than this fetching of dry + sighs. They 'most take the skin of a woe that a little tear-water would + bring up easy enough. + + _Ard._ O, Gaina, Gaina, did you see my mother buried? + + _Gaina._ Ay, 'twas a sweet grave we laid her in over in Corinth. You'll + never make as pretty a corpse, my dear. + + _Ard._ Was I there? + + _Gaina._ Troth, you were, and trouble enough you gave me. You wanted to + climb into the coffin and go to sleep too, you said. + + _Ard._ O, had you buried me with her I should not have seen this day! + + _Gaina._ Most like you wouldn't. Come, honey dove, come to your room and + brighten yourself a bit. There's the new veil just begging to be looked + at. I'll put it on you, and---- + + _Ard._ No, I don't want you. [_Going, right_] + + _Gaina._ O, ho, I can read his name you do want, and not kill a bird for + it either. + + _Ard._ [_Turning_] Who, magpie? Who? + + _Gaina._ Your eyes may save my tongue if they squint sou'west. + + _Ard._ Is he coming? + + _Gaina._ Who, my cuckoo? Who? + + [_Bertrand enters left. Ardia starts off right_] + + _Ber._ Ardia! + + _Ard._ [_Weakly, pausing at her door_] Vairdelan.... + + _Ber._ Will not you stay? + + _Ard._ I will return. [_Exit_] + + _Ber._ Your mistress is not well? + + _Gaina._ You've eyes, sir. + + _Ber._ This fear of Oswald---- + + _Gaina._ Her trouble's nearer home, sir. + + _Ber._ Her father---- + + _Gaina._ Nay, it wears no beard, though it may in time. + + _Ber._ What troubles her, dear Gaina? + + _Gaina._ A man, my lord. + + _Ber._ A man! + + _Gaina._ There, don't feel for your sword, for that's at home, and I + never heard yet of spitting a man with a flute, though it may e'en go + to the heart of a woman if she be young and soft like my mistress. + + _Ber._ The truth, Gaina! + + _Gaina._ I can spare it, sir. My master's daughter is so in love with + you---- + + _Ber._ Angels do not love! + + _Gaina._ That may be. I'm speaking of my mistress, "Magpie!" Not meaning + you, sir. + + _Ber._ She can not love me! + + _Gaina._ That's what I said--at first. A roaming creature with only his + cloak for shelter, though it's a good gentleman's weave, I'll allow, and + I know you'll go away before her poor heart gets too heavy for carrying. + It's nigh that now, and before you came it was so light she was tripping + and chirping till I could 'a' sworn she had no heart at all--just toes + and wings. And now, dear soul,--but you'll go, sir? You know you'd have + to hunt the door soon enough if her brothers got a breath of what's + between you. + + _Ber._ There's nothing between us! + + _Gaina._ A bat could see it by daylight. It's been in your eyes all the + time. + + _Ber._ I never meant it! + + _Gaina._ Shame to you then. You'll go, sir? + + _Ber._ Yes, yes, yes! + + _Gaina._ Here's my lady. Now don't tell her you're going. Just go. + + _Ber._ Just ... go. + + _Gaina._ [_At right_] Ay, you've got it. + + [_Exit Gaina as Ardia re-enters_] + + _Ard._ My brothers are at supper. Will you join them, + Or do you fast? + + _Ber._ I fast. + + _Ard._ A stern religion + Is yours, my friend. + + _Ber._ I've chosen it. Ardia, + You know me for a knight. + + _Ard._ [_Softly_] Who wears no sword. + + _Ber._ But in the English isle where I was born, + I was a monk ... and true. True am I now, + Save that my cell is what men call the world. + + _Ard._ Spare speech and me. I know the rest. + + _Ber._ Your prayers + Then be my bond that Christ may search my heart + And find no part not his. + + _Ard._ No prayer of mine + Shall fetter youth to bloodless vows. And you + Look not as one faith-leeched of life. Your cheek + Is sudden gray, not changeless pale. 'Tis hued + Like rebel morning pushing back a dawn + Too eager for its peace. A monk. Our ways + Part as our souls. Know you I am to wed + Prince Banissat? So dumb? + My father comes! + [_Meets Charilus re-entering and leads him to a seat_] + Our guest was telling me of English days. + Now you change tongue with him and speak the tale + You promised yester night. Why does this Oswald, + This war-mad lord of England, on his way + To free the holy tomb, forget his path + And turn his army's strength against a man + No greater than thyself? + + _Char._ Yes, you shall know. + + _Ard._ At last! + + _Char._ For morning parts us. + + _Ard._ Oh! Not that! + + _Ber._ Shall I go in, my lord? + + _Char._ Nay, Vairdelan. + I'd have thee hear. Thou thinkest me a man + Of holy heart. + + _Ard._ Ah, who does not? + + _Char._ There's one + Has cause for doubt. 'Twas I who slew in rage + Earl Oswald's father. + + _Ard._ You? These hands? + + _Char._ These hands. + + _Ber._ I've heard 'twas so. + + _Ard._ You've heard? + + _Char._ 'Tis thirty years + Since Oswald, with his father, John of Clyffe, + Marched in Red Giles' crusade. You know of that? + + _Ber._ My grandsire captained there. + + _Char._ I served not Christ, + At least as they, with pillage, fire and rape. + But there were some among the English youths + Who took my heart, and Oswald was my choice + Of all who camped before the holy gates. + + _Ard._ That man! + + _Char._ I, too, was young ... and I was wed. + Not to my Ardia's mother, but to her + Whose heart yet boldly beats in my two sons. + In her strange beauty John of Clyffe found death. + He sought her, and I slew him. When his blood + Ran at my feet, I fled,--not from the swords + Hot on my path, but from that stream of blood. + + _Ard._ Dear, dear my father! 'Twas a world ago! + + _Char._ I was not of the many who can kill + And laugh again, nor yet of hermit-heart. + But for myself had made a gentle god + Whom my soul served. + + _Ber._ I know, my lord, that sweet + Idolatry, and dream what thou didst suffer + So shaken from it. + + _Char._ Far as man knows the world + I fled the scarlet stream that followed me, + And on the skyward slope of Himalay, + Between the white of snows and blue of heaven, + Saw it no more. + + _Ard._ [_Kissing his hands_] O, white, forgiven hands! + + _Char._ There, near to God as man may come nor lose + The body's mould, I saw in solvent thought + That knows not time, a sinless star,--this earth + That shall be. Back unto my world I came, + And that my dream might live I lived my dream, + Servant to love even where the slaves of hate + Whet sword and knife. + + _Ard._ O, true! + + _Ber._ 'Tis sung of thee! + + _Char._ Now am I old, but love does not deny me + One service more. To-morrow I shall go + To die at Oswald's feet---- + + _Ber._ [_Eagerly_] You will go down? + + _Ard._ No, no! He shall not go! Prince Banissat + Will save him! He has promised! + + _Ber._ [_Gazing at Ardia_] Banissat? + So 'twas a bargain. Thou'rt fair goods to be + On th' vender's table. [_Turns to Charilus_] You choose well, my lord. + + _Ard._ What words! + + _Ber._ I bring a message from th' earl. + + _Ard._ From Oswald? [_Shrinking_] You know him? + + _Ber._ If any man + May know him,--but I better know his son. + + _Ard._ The vicious Bertrand? + + _Ber._ Vicious? + + _Ard._ O, so foul + He shuns the day, and walks on moonless nights + Most like his soul! + + _Ber._ You speak of Bertrand? + + _Ard._ Ay! + More wolfish than his father,--beast whose sword + Should be his body's part as tigers wear + Their claws from birth! + + _Ber._ A bold delusion this! + + _Char._ She speaks untempered rumor. Slander, sir, + Is out of breath with sporting Bertrand's name, + And giveth way to winds that blow it past + Belief's last border. + + _Ard._ Slander? + + _Ber._ What will shake + These fancies from your heart? + + _Ard._ A miracle. + Naught less. + + _Ber._ Hard terms. [_Turns to Charilus_] I know this Bertrand well. + If any happy merit in myself + Has won your love, bestow the same on him. + What I may share is his. + + _Char._ Here's living hope! + + _Ber._ He, like myself, was cloister-bred, and passed + Peaceful, uncounted days until the death + Of his three brothers, slain in one mad hour. + Earl Oswald then bethought him of the son + So early given to Christ. "I have no heir," + He said, "but God lacks not for monks." And straight + With power and gold bought full release for Bertrand, + Save that release his soul and God might give. + + _Char._ You make me love his story. + + _Ber._ True to peace + Even in the camp of war, he lives withdrawn, + And so gives Rumor sweep for what she would, + While in her swollen report the earl conceals + His monkish son's true nature. + + _Char._ I'll know this youth! + + _Ber._ He keeps his tent by day, and steals at night + To forest glens, his armor but a cloak, + His sword a flute---- + + _Ard._ O, light from Heaven! + + _Ber._ Sometimes + He farther goes, even far as Kidmir heights, + And at the feet of Charilus he learns + A love more true than fane and cloister taught,-- + The love that made the houseless, barefoot Christ, + With open breast to all unbrothered woe,-- + And now he kneels and of that gentlest love + Asks pardon. + + _Char._ Bertrand, son of Oswald, rise. + There's no forgiving in the sinless star. + + _Ber._ [_Rising, to Ardia_] And you? + + _Ard._ Ah ... when I've breath! + + _Ber._ What I have said, + My lord, makes way for what is yet to say. + To-day I waited by Avesta's gate + For this [_taking out paper_] my father's word, response to mine + Sent days ago to him. Here, sir, he says: [_Reads_] + + "Son of my hope, your words are not more strange to me than these I + write with my own hand. If Charilus will come to Suli Castle, the which + my swords have taken while you sang and slept, my door shall open to him + as Kidmir gates have opened unto you. By Christ, I swear the treatment + that he gave my blood he shall have again from me. But if he come not + down, then shall I reach him through Avesta's heart, and the love he now + spurns will be cold in my sword. Despatch this, I pray you, for I would + hasten to Jerusalem, leaving you my conquered princedom, whose head is + Ilon and whose foot is the city of Ramoor. Thine as thy heart speaks, + Oswald." + + _Char._ Your father's hand? + + _Ber._ Doubt flies from it, although + The vein is alien, sir. It is his hand. + And, I do think, his heart, wherein, my lord, + Your gentleness to me, like creeping rain, + Has moistened love's dry root, whose pent-up bloom + Is by that nurture freed, and magical + Now glows before us. + + _Char._ This I would believe. [_Starts off right_] + Vigard and Biondel must have this news + From my slow lips, lest with the sudden truth + They strike ablaze. They have their mother's fire. + Albanian Gartha was not one to die + And leave her sons no part in her wild race. [_Exit_] + + _Ber._ You are not Gartha's daughter? + + _Ard._ No, my lord. + Claris of Corinth bore me, and my flame + Is joy, not anger. O, this miracle + You've wrought for me! + + _Ber._ I wrought? + + _Ard._ 'Tis no less strange + When God through his bare tool reveals his hand, + Than when invisible his power stirs + And makes a chasm in sense. So when you stood + Before me, Bertrand's self, with yet the voice, + The eyes, the heart of Vairdelan, I knew + That was my miracle. O Heaven-sign + At which my world grew blithe and shook May-boughs + With birds in every branch! + + _Ber._ You've no more fear + For Charilus? + + _Ard._ None, none. + Nor for myself. + + _Ber._ Yourself? + + _Ard._ O, seems no soul need trouble now + In this vast world! + + [_Re-enter Charilus and sons_] + + _Bion._ You are not Vairdelan? + + _Vig._ You're Bertrand, Oswald's son? + + _Ber._ 'Tis true. + + _Vig._ That truth + Should cut your throat, and I could lend my sword + For such a matter. + + _Bion._ Come! What knightly plea + Coats this deceit with honor? + + _Ber._ None, my lord. + If I've made trespass deeper than your love + Will bear me out, my hope is in your pardon. + + _Bion._ A lie made you our guest, and guest you are + Until we meet on Suli plain. + + _Char._ My son! + + _Ard._ Call you that pardon, Biondel? + + _Bion._ I speak + No pardon. + + _Ard._ But you shall--you must. O, say it! + You know our father goes to Oswald. + + _Vig._ Know + That fools and women talk! The gates are sealed. + + _Bion._ I'll guard the pass against my father's self + If so much rudeness may make stand between + His death and life. + + _Char._ My sons, I thank your love, + But I go down. The guards, the gates are mine, + And to my will they open. + + _Vig._ 'Tis that girl, + That silvery Greek---- + + _Char._ If your quick blood must stir, + Let manners grace it. + + _Ard._ O, my dearest brothers, + Do you not love me? + + _Bion._ Better than you know. + We love you, serve you, though yourself obstruct + The way to safety. + + _Vig._ You would trust the man + Who wrapped him in a lie to enter here? + Sat at our father's board and brake his bread + To feed an enemy? + + _Ber._ The bread I brake + Fed friendship's heart in me, and made this roof + A temple. Do you not know me, Vigard? + + _Vig._ Nay, + I knew a Vairdelan--you are not he. + + _Bion._ If Oswald means no harm to Charilus, + Let him pass on. Jerusalem awaits + His savage sword. + + _Char._ My son, that Oswald thus + Compels me to him is to me but proof + That hearts may greet above long years of hate. + In this I see Love beckoning Man across + The wastrel lands of war to fields unwet + With blood, to days---- + + _Vig._ Unhearted cowards then! + Praise Allah, we yet live where rapiers thresh + The fields of men and leave the bravest standing! + Is 't not the Prophet's word that Paradise + Lies 'neath the shade of swords? + + _Char._ Allah be yours! + But I would walk beneath unrisen stars, + Beyond hate's eyeless clouds---- + + _Bion._ O, spare us, sir! + Each day brings its own sun, and by that light, + No other, men must walk. If this our time + Be dark to you, 'tis in your vision, not + In the lit heavens, from whose shoreless depth + No hook of prayer or prophecy may draw + One star before its hour. Pray you be done + With this moon madness. Banissat will meet + The force of Oswald. With the morn he comes + To seal his troth with Ardia---- + + _Char._ By no word + Of mine. If you have given him pledge, your honor + Shall dip to dust and drudge your forfeit out, + Ere virgin bondage pay it. Hark, Biondel, + And hear me, Vigard! I alone shall meet + Earl Oswald. If the blood I shed yet cries + For blood, here are the veins shall make it dumb. + + _Bion._ But, sir,---- + + _Char._ No more. Your sister stays with you. + Regard her will, nor ope these doors unbidden + To Banissat. + + _Ard._ I stay? O, never think + I shall not go with thee! + + _Char._ You go? + + _Ard._ I'm safe + With thee, my father. Here.... + + _Vig._ Here you have brothers! + + _Ard._ I mean no slight upon you, but my fate + Keeps with my father. + + _Char._ I should doubt the God + Who bids me go if I denied you this. + Thyself art Peace, and where thou goest moves + Her radiance. Make you ready. And good-night, all! + Sir Bertrand, know the sleep that fits the heart + For journeying. [_Exit right, rear_] + + _Vig._ [_To Ardia_] There's one will stop your way-- + Prince Banissat! + + _Bion._ We'll send him word this hour, + For while the edge be on his sudden love + He'll thank us to be swift. + + _Ber._ You loved me once, + My lords. + + _Bion._ True, son of Oswald. + + _Ber._ Though you used + Some bitter words, I know your inmost heart + Holds me a man undoubted. There I'm stamped + In honor's verity; and when I vow, + By my soul's faith, that Charilus is safe, + You know 'tis truth. + + _Bion._ Be you our father's hostage, + If this mad thing must be. Stay you with us, + And we are silent. + + _Ard._ Stay? You ask too much. + + _Vig._ No fear, soft sister. Mark him. We're refused. + He'll stuff the air with words, not clear it with + One pinch of proof. + + _Ber._ My lords, were I to stay, + 'Twould make an act of faith lose point and purpose, + And blazon doubt before my father's face. + + _Vig._ You mark? + + _Ber._ 'Twould louder cry of war; uproot + Love's seedling in its tenderest hour, and make + Once more the bane and night-weed spring. But hear + An oath of mine. If Charilus meet harm + In Oswald's camp, I shall return and ask + The same stroke from your hands. + + _Ard._ O, do not swear! + + _Ber._ By every hope I have to enter Heaven, + By the right hand of God, by this white cross + That knew my mother's last, death-holy kiss, + By every sacred thing I know and love, + If Charilus comes up these heights no more, + Here shall I lay my life beneath your sword. + + [_Barca re-enters right_] + + _Barca._ [_To Bertrand_] The master asks a word with you, my lord. + + [_Exit Bertrand with Barca_] + + _Ard._ Will you accept his oath? + + _Vig._ Go to your room. + + _Bion._ We'll talk alone. + + _Ard._ Nay, hear me first. You think + To force me to the arms of Banissat. + Give over that wild thought. + + _Bion._ 'Twas not so wild + An hour ago. + + _Ard._ Fate lifts the hand that laid + Compulsion on me. I am free. O, free! + No strait of life or death can make me less + Than mistress of myself. + + _Bion._ Our destiny + Is bound with Banissat. Make him our foe, + And where shall we find peace? Not on these peaks. + + _Ard._ Is he our jailer then? This Banissat? + Our prison his good favor? Nay, the world + Has many roads, and courage even yet + May blaze a new one. + + _Bion._ Rooted life is best. + I am not one to make my bed on winds, + Or stroll the earth for fortune's grudgèd scraps + Snatched from a rapier's point. + + _Ard._ Know this. My hand + Shall never lie in Banissat's. Give up + A hope so barren. There's better pasturage + For wits so bold as yours. Now Oswald holds + The breadth of Suli plain, the heights of Tor, + Winged by the sea from Ilon to Ramoor-- + A principality whose circuit leaves + Avesta as a fly pinned to a wall. + + _Vig._ What's Oswald's fief to us? We are no sons of his. + + _Ard._ Lord Bertrand holds the princedom here + While Oswald goes to wars in Palestine. + + _Bion._ He told you this? + + _Ard._ Did you not read as much + In Oswald's letter? There 'twas plainly said. + + _Bion._ Still is our surest hope with Banissat. + + _Ard._ When Bertram! is your friend? O, more than friend! + A brother! + + _Bion._ Ah ... do you say "brother"? + + _Ard._ True + As though he had been born our father's son! + + _Bion._ [_To Vigard_] You hear? + + _Vig._ With more than ears. + + _Bion._ We have been blind. + + _Vig._ A brother! + + _Bion._ All is clear enough, now that + We've eyes for it. Your pardon, sister. + + _Ard._ Pardon? + + _Bion._ Pray you! We thought your scorn of Banissat + Marked you of creeping spirit, when your aim + Shot o'er our lowered eyes. + + _Vig._ Ay, she has sped + Before our boldest care of her, and left + Our duty lurching. + + _Ard._ These are drunken words. + + _Vig._ If you would wed Lord Bertrand,---- + + _Ard._ O, you think.... + + _Bion._ Your hope has shown its wing. Best bid it fly. + + _Vig._ Speak without fear. This changes all. + + _Ard._ You mean + You'll not delay us? You will let us go? + + _Vig._ And speed you too! High stroke, this anxious hour + To journey in his care! + + _Bion._ Yet shielded by + Our father's dignity. + + _Ard._ How you mistake! + He does not woo me! + + _Vig._ Now the modest foot! + But we have seen the other. Trust us, sister. + + _Bion._ Mistake? I now recall his looks, his sighs, + As from a love immured,--his songs, too warm + For piety's cool breath,--and more that tends + To happy proof. + + _Vig._ How dare he woo thee when + Mere Vairdelan? This blade had stood between! + + _Bion._ Such beggar suit would then have cheapened thee + Beneath a prince's wearing. [_Leading her to door, right_] + No drooping now! + The way lies clear. + + _Ard._ O, brother---- + + _Bion._ Get you in. + + _Ard._ Will you not listen? + + _Bion._ Leave your hope with us, + Your secret is our own. [_Closes door upon her_] + + _Vig._ Here's change of sky. + You trust Lord Bertrand? + + _Bion._ That is now our course. + Our father will go down. + + _Vig._ What's in your heart? + I'll open mine. + + _Bion._ I beg you do. + + _Vig._ Ramoor + And Ilon now are crownless. Suli's prince + Must have new governors. + + _Bion._ But Christian ones. + That bars our way. + + _Vig._ The Prophet's cloak fits well + With any fortune. + + _Bion._ Ah.... + + _Vig._ We've but to change + The color, not the cut. + + _Bion._ [_Listening_] He comes! + + _Vig._ We'll speak. + + _Bion._ Not yet, my Vigard. Let this fruiting hope + Swell to a golden fall. Wait with the sun. + No green and forward plucking. + + [_Re-enter Ardia_] + + _Ard._ Hear me, brothers---- + + _Bion._ Not now. The prince! + + [_Re-enter Bertrand, right_] + + _Ber._ I pray your answer, friends. + Let us go down unhindered, and my oath + I leave with you, a hostage sure as though + With iron bonds you held my breathing form: + For in that oath I leave no treasure less + Than honor, knighthood, and what in me moves + Deathless to God. + + _Bion._ It is enough. Our guest + Is free. + + _Ber._ Once more my brothers! + + _Bion._ Know us ever + By that dear name. + + _Vig._ And this deep oath you take + For Charilus' sake, is sworn too for our sister? + + _Ber._ For Ardia? No, my lord. + + _Vig._ Do you say no? + + _Ber._ I must so answer you. For the fell harm + That touches her would of myself make end. + My honor so impeached would cease to breathe + The air itself made foul. I could not come + Having no life to bring me. + + _Bion._ We believe you. + Go with our father. Take our sister too. + And we upon these heights shall pray, as you + On Suli plain, that Charilus may see + His sons again. + + _Ber._ Come, let him know! This wished + Obedience will give him sleep. + + [_Exeunt Bertrand, Vigard, and Biondel, right rear_] + + _Ard._ Is 't best + That Truth be dumb? I'll watch this weaving Fate, + And feed her web with silence.... Oh, with hope! + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE 1. _A hall in the castle of Suli. Heavy doors open left, half-way +up. Large window with iron grating, rear. Couches, chairs, scattered. +Tables from which servants are removing the remnants of a feast. They +are quarrelling, chaffing, singing, as the curtain risen._ + + + _First Ser._ Shifty, there! + + _Second Ser._ What, can't a soldier eat? + + _First Ser._ You a soldier, lickspoon? + + _Second Ser._ I've drawn a sword, sir! + + _First Ser._ Ay, and cut a cheese. + + _Third Ser._ [_Lifting flask_] Here's to---- + + _Fourth Ser._ [_Seizing flask_] No man shall guzzle my master's wine + before me. [_Drains vessel_] + + _Third Ser._ [_Sadly, turning up empty flask_] Not after you, either. + + _Fifth Ser._ Well, well, and two moons back we were saying grace over + ditch-water! + + _Sixth Ser._ Ay, we were good Christians then. A full stomach makes lean + prayers. Now we've such a plenty we can spare the devil a fillip, and + never a grace for it. + + _First Ser._ [_Tugging at table_] Take a leg there! This is no + grasshopper. [_Others help him move table to wall, right_] Look about + you! The maskers will be in here. + + _Second Ser._ Here? They'll be everywhere to-night. Such a jig-making + over the new prince! + + _Second Ser._ Not a corner to drop into and sleep off a good supper with + a clear conscience! + + _Sixth Ser._ Sleep? What have we to do with sleep? We fight, we eat, we + dance. That's my soldier! + + _Second Ser._ We kill, we cut, we caper! [_Sings_] + The soldier rides on Fortune's wheel, + + _All._ Round we go, + Round we go! + + _Second Ser._ Now up the head and now the heel, + + _All._ Round we go, + Round---- + + [_Enter seventh servant_] + + _Seventh Ser._ Quiet, you devils! The master's coming. + + _Second Ser._ What, can't a soldier sing? Haven't we fought like true + men? When did we give quarter? When did we show mercy? And now can't we + be happy? Can't we take breath? + + _Seventh Ser._ Sh! and I'll tell you what I've seen. I've seen the + daughter of Old Wisdom. + + _Sixth Ser._ He get a daughter! + + _Seventh Ser._ The maid of Kidmir. Ardia of the Stars they call her, but + if the sun could shine in the middle of a dark night she would be like + that. + + _First Ser._ Foh, the Lady Berenice will put out her candle. + + _Seventh Ser._ The Lady Berenice is as like her as the back of my hand + to Juno's cheek! + + _First Ser._ A heathen comparison! There's a Christian blow for it! + + [_They scuffle. Enter Oswald in talk with Bertrand. Servants finish + their work quietly and go out_] + + _Osw._ My heart is whole again, now you've escaped + The claws of Kidmir. + + _Ber._ Say the arms that closed + Like God's around me! + + _Osw._ Fox, and lion too. + That's Charilus. I knew him young,--when blood + Tells nature's truth,--ere he had sucked + Philosophy's pale milk and made his truce + With prudence and long life. The heart then his + He carries now---- + + _Ber._ Then, sir, you must have known + The Maker's marvel,--youth that outstripped age + And grayest saints in virtue. + + _Osw._ Tut! No matter. + You're safe. And he is here ... within these walls. + + _Ber._ A guest of faith who holds your honor bound + High hostage for his life. + + _Osw._ My honor? Trust me! + I'll care for that. No more I'll blush to lift + My shield i' the sun. The spot of thirty years + Shall be wiped out. + + _Ber._ With love, my father? + + _Osw._ [_After a pause_] Ay, + 'Tis love shall do it. + + _Ber._ [_Lifting his father's hand to his lips_] You bind my heart to you. + + _Osw._ Too soft, my warrior. Keep such woman's play + For Berenice. She will thank you for it. + I'm rough and old, and need the soldier clap + To start the singing blood. [_Clapping Bertrand_] A blow with good + Red heart in 't! + + _Ber._ Berenice? + + _Osw._ Ah, that takes you! + She's here at last. Prince Frederick arrived + Three days ago, and with him his fair daughter, + Too dear of value to be left behind, + The prey of quarrelling kings. You'll dance with her + To-night. + + _Ber._ You'll pardon me. I shall not dance. + + _Osw._ Faugh, there's the monk again! Why, boy, we'll pray + The better for a little tripping,--fight + The better too. One dance with Berenice! + A beauty, sir, who makes me hate the years + That lie 'tween youth and me. She was to wed + A son of mine by vow above her cradle, + And I have buried every son save you. + + _Ber._ May I not keep one vow? + + _Osw._ The pope long since + Released you. Now---- + + _Ber._ My compact was with Christ. + + _Osw._ Why cling to one when all the rest are broken? + + _Ber._ It is the one lies wholly in my choice. + + _Osw._ You left your cell. + + _Ber._ Do you forget 'twas you + Who shook to ground my cloister walls, and locked + All holy doors against me? + + _Osw._ True, I did it. + And with good warrant. Broadest Christendom + Upheld my right and gave me back my heir. + Small gain if you refuse to wed. My need + Is not for sons but grandsons now. My boy, + You'll let me see your children at my knee? + Ho, hide your face? Then there's a heart in you. + Why should I toil through blood and groans and fire + To make a name my shroud will wrap with me? + + _Ber._ Toil then to give this land to God, and live + So long as love shall live in men. + + _Osw._ Pale fame! + Have you no blood of mine? How could my fire + Father this sluggish monk? There was a maid + On Kidmir, Charilus' daughter, who has come + In wag of him, which speaks a fearless wench,-- + She taught you nothing in those moons you passed + Upon her peaks? + + _Ber._ Sir? + + _Osw._ When I saw her face + Flash from her veil, I could have sworn + Your vow was drowned in her lake-eyes, and that + Her captured softness had made easy way + For royal Berenice. Now you talk + Out of your cowl---- + + _Ber._ Not so! I am a knight! + Your words have made me one! Now could I draw + This sword that knows not blood---- + + _Osw._ I'll bout with thee + For any woman. Come! Thou'lt be a man + Ere long. Come, sir! + + _Ber._ You've set a foot most foul + Upon the flower of time! + + _Osw._ It seems I've hit + The mark i' the very eye. + + _Ber._ The whitest thought + That holds her first must shrive itself! + + _Osw._ So, so! + Come, end the song. She's yours. 'Tis not the moon + You cry for, take an old man's word. + + _Ber._ The moon + Were nearer to me! + + _Osw._ Trrr-rrr-rr! + + _Ber._ My lord? + + _Osw._ A woman. Ask and have. I'll send her here. + This is the hour to bait you, and I'd not lose it + For half of Suli. + + _Ber._ Stay! I will not see her. + I dare not look upon her lest I lose + Christ and myself. + + _Osw._ Are you so tuned? We'll have + A wedding yet. + + _Ber._ Forget that word, and I + Forgive you for it. + + _Osw._ A wedding, prince of Suli. + This plain shall ring to Antioch. + + _Ber._ Nay, father,-- + And yet I thank you that your heart would make + So fair a maid my bride. + + _Osw._ Fair? That's no word. + She's glory's darling pearl,--the morning's eye + That makes the night forgot! When you have seen her---- + + _Ber._ When I have seen her? + + _Osw._ Ay,---- + + _Ber._ Do you not speak + Of Ardia? + + _Osw._ Ardia! Gods! Wed Kidmir's trull? + Make me a doting grandsire to the heir + Of Charilus? Hear it, stars! Am I the fool + O' the earth? Give up my English forests, bare + My purse for troops, and foot by foot fight way + To Suli sands,--all this that I may set + A droning dotard's line upon a throne, + And be the ass of chronicle? O, poison! + Well, well, I'm done. The girl is fair enough. + And you shall have her if she pleases you. + But Berenice--there's your bride, my boy! + + _Ber._ Wed Berenice? With that name you save me. + By that I see the darkness coiling deep + Along my bridal way. 'Twas Ardia's name + That lit the path till I dared let my eyes, + Though not my will, go venturing on 't. + + _Osw._ My son,---- + + _Ber._ Never again, my father, speak to me + In this night's strain. Till morning I shall pray. + And then I fast. Good-night. + + _Osw._ One moment. One! + The sunrise feast? Will you not be with us? + I drink with Charilus the cup of peace. + + _Ber._ And love that breaks no peace? + + _Osw._ [_Assenting_] See how you bend me? + All that you ask I give, but you to me + Yield nothing. + + _Ber._ Sir, this sword, my knightly suit, + And princely title, make denial for me. + + _Osw._ Your pardon. I forget you count it much + To give a crust and cell for this broad kingdom. + I who have paid my heart out for a crown + Must thank you now to wear it. + + _Ber._ Good-night. + + _Osw._ O, son, + Have you no patience with a man grown old + In many battles? Now feel I my age, + Knowing the dearest blows of my long life + Have bought me but this shadow. In you is drained + Ambition's heart,--my every burning aim + Fails here in you, and cools unforged, unshapen. + Yet do you turn from me as though 'twere I + Not you who gave the wound that parts us. + + _Ber._ I? + + _Osw._ Of all my sons I loved you best. You think + I gave you to the friars with no twinge + Here at my heart? Your mother said "One son + We must return to God," and I said "Yea, + So it be not my Bertrand." But her will + Ran 'gainst me. When she had her way, I longed + Through many a day to have you at my side, + While you were happy with your songs and saints, + Your father quite forgot. + + _Ber._ [_Stirred_] Nay, not forgot. + And I am with you now. + + _Osw._ O, let me feel + My son is mine! I'll yield you anything. + Ay, even Ardia! She shall be my daughter---- + + _Ber._ By heaven that keeps me true, I will not hear + That name again! There's maddest music in it. + I see her when I hear it. [_Covering his eyes_] + + _Osw._ [_Aside_] I see the lime + Will catch you. + + _Ber._ Again, good-night. + + _Osw._ One favor, son. + And slight too, by 'r lady! + + _Ber._ Speak it, sir. + + _Osw._ I gave my word you'd wait on Berenice. + I' faith, I know not what excuse to make + To Frederick. 'Tis barest courtesy + To give her greeting. + + _Ber._ I will welcome her, + Our guest. + + _Osw._ Enough! [_Going_] You'll wait us here? + + _Ber._ I'll wait. + + [_Exit Oswald. Bertrand sits with head bowed and does not heed maskers + who enter and dance about him. They cover him with their garlands + as they go off. A song is heard within_] + + What save winds shall kiss his bones + Bleaching on the desert stones? + What but waves o'er him shall sigh + Who doth drownèd sea-deep lie? + What save worms to him shall come + Locked in earth, bound, keyless, dumb? + + Wild the wind and cold the wave, + Sharp the tooth within the grave! + Be such kisses for my ghost, + Heart, my Heart, when thou art lost! + Love me, Love, an hour and we + Mock the cold eternity! + + _Ber._ [_Taking up a flower_] Eternity in this? + + [_Ardia enters. He does not see her until she speaks_] + + _Ard._ Prince Bertrand? + + _Ber._ [_Rising_] You? + Not Berenice! + + _Ard._ Ah ... you wait for her? + + _Ber._ Who brought you here? + + _Ard._ The earl. Your father. + + _Ber._ He! + What said he? + + _Ard._ That you prayed to see me, sir. + + _Ber._ O, faithless! He deceived you. + + _Ard._ I will go. + + _Ber._ Stay--tell me--how you fare. + + _Ard._ Nay, you await + The princess. + + _Ber._ You've all comfort? No least lack? + + _Ard._ I've food and bed, but little company. + + _Ber._ My father's plans press hard, and I'm a part + Of them. Each hour he calls me. + + _Ard._ I know, my lord, + This is not Kidmir. I've my father too. + You've yours ... and Berenice. + + _Ber._ Nay, it seems + Fate hath her changelings. You have come, not she. + + _Ard._ I sought no meeting, sir, but being here, + I'll ask you of my father. Is he safe? + Earl Oswald means no treachery to his guest? + + _Ber._ At sunrise he will drink the cup of peace. + + _Ard._ That's hours away! He knows your life is pledged + For Charilus' safety? + + _Ber._ No. I will not wake + A doubt against his honor. + + _Ard._ He should know. + I've seen his eyes. Good hap, you have your mother's. + + _Ber._ If he be vile as you so fear he is, + My pledge would be no leash to his hold will. + He'd chain me here till he destroyed your brothers. + Let him know naught, I'm free to keep my oath. + But this should not be spoken. We do wrong + To talk of things that have no being save + In our own midnight fears. + + _Ard._ Well, I shall sleep. + Good-night, my lord. + + _Ber._ Am I not Vairdelan? + + _Ard._ Ay, when you smile so. + [_Holds out her hands, and drops them untouched_] + Far, O far from Kidmir! + + _Ber._ Yea, an eternal journey my lost soul + May find it. Ardia, counsel me. Two ways + Stretch long before me, and I faint + In daring either. Give me of your strength. + + _Ard._ My strength? I have none. + + _Ber._ You have God's. + Men, proud in valor, stray and lose his hand; + The woman holds it ever, walking floods + And trampling fire where men go down. + + _Ard._ Tell me! + How may I help you? + + _Ber._ Sit then. I will speak. + [_She sits; He stands near her_] + I have agreed to be the sovereign + Of sword-won Suli. + + _Ard._ None will better serve + Where he is master. O, this spear-torn land + Shall flower to heaven and mate her bloom with stars! + + _Ber._ A bloom that dies with me? + + _Ard._ Death cannot make + The spirit barren. + + _Ber._ [_At distance_] Through me my father hopes + To found a princely house o'er-topping Asia + With Christ-lit towers. + + _Ard._ Oh!... Then you will wed. + + _Ber._ [_His eyes down_] My bride is chosen. + + _Ard._ [_Rising_] Chosen? [_Sits again_] + Nay.... I know.... + + _Ber._ [_Returning_] Your hidden eyes hide not the loathing there + For me forsworn. Why have I troubled you? + Look on me, Ardia. I am not yet fallen. + I take your answer. You have chosen my way, + And I set forth upon it--_not_ forsworn. + + _Ard._ That word is naught. I do not think of it. + + _Ber._ Must man not keep his pledge? + + _Ard._ To mortals, yes. + For so our lives are knit, and part to part + Keep sound and whole. But pledges unto God + Man cannot make or keep till he may bind + The Will that journeys with the launchèd world. + So might His rivers say "Here will we rest, + And worship thee," nor run into the sea, + And God must be content though all his fields + Burn waterless. So might the winds vow Him + Unbroken calm, and God who needs his storms + Must still his own desire while his dear earth + Goes pestilent. + + _Ber._ Unsentient things! He shares + His will with man. + + _Ard._ But not to enslave his own. + Christ seals no bond the lips lay on the soul + That is each instant new as life, as change, + As the importuning world. Ah, he who sells + To one hour's narrow need the zenith light + Of unborn days would snuff out time and know + No rising sun. Himself would be a slavedom + Where never Christ would walk. + + _Ber._ Is 't Ardia speaks? + + _Ard._ Truth speaks, not I. If man must vow, + Let it not be to love no woman,--wear + The vest of fire, and in a sunless cell + Chain Heaven-arteried life,--then peering out, + Cling to the nested eaves transfixed to see + His fled desires wear the horizon flame. + But let him vow his Christ shall shrink no vein + Of broad and pauseless being; ay,--shall keep + Sweet surgence with his blood, climb with his spirit + Time's lifting hills, and hold in watch with him + The unshrouding pinnacles where love puts off + The old clouds for the dawn. Forsworn? O, heart + Cell-bound, thy very vows deny thy Christ. + Who serve him wear no chains. + + _Ber._ You think me true? + And yet I felt your wounded, doubting eyes + Raining me scorn. Why was it, Ardia? + + _Ard._ Scorn? + I have forgot why 'twas--or shall forget. + + _Ber._ And there was pity too, that dropped your lids. + And would have sheltered me. Is that forgot? + + _Ard._ Nay, that.... I'll tell you that. I thought of Love, + Man's angel, and the heart-lone way of him + Who missed and found her not. Never to take + More courage from the fall of her sure feet + On heights that wind between death and the stars; + Or where his road burns through the shadeless sands, + Reach for the hand with fountains in its touch + And feel the palm-breath round him. Not to know + Her eyes when night is come, and there's no star; + Her breast, that pillowing the darkened waste, + Keeps warm the bitten earth and gives him dream + To meet and match the dawn. So wept my thoughts, + Forgetting that you are no wanderer, + But kingly housed will rule a tamèd realm. + Or should a harvest come of spears, not grain, + Yet is your princess brave and beautiful, + And bears, may be, a mating heart. Love then + Will come to you---- + + _Ber._ My princess? + + _Ard._ Berenice. + Your father's choice ... and yours. + + _Ber._ My Ardia! Mine! + Could such a lie creep to your soul and find + No lances at the door? [_Kneels, kissing her hands_] + My love, my love, my love! + Let honors fail, and stars forget my name, + 'Tis thou shalt walk beside me, thou my chosen! + I'll hear thy footfall on the winter steep, + And take thy hand where desert noons are white, + But close thy breast shall lie upon my heart, + Nor pillow the bitten waste, my own, my own! + [_She moves from him. He rises_] + Why are you silent, pale, and heaven-still? + + _Ard._ I must be still. I've mourned my heart-walls thin. + This joy will break them. Joy to hear your voice + With love's mate-music in it cry to me. + My joy! I'll drink it all, nor lose one drop, + For I shall have no more. + + _Ber._ No more? No less + Than life can hold! + + _Ard._ Hear me, my lord. + + _Ber._ You love me! + + _Ard._ I shall not be your wife. + + _Ber._ You're mine--all mine! + + _Ard._ You hold your vow yet sacred, breaking it + By the sole might of love. You do not feel + The vision round you in whose light that vow + Falls like a grave-cloth from an angel's limbs. + Ah, Christ would be no bridal guest of ours, + Shut out by your heart's fear. + [_He stands as if stricken_] + You see 'tis true. + You listen for his sanction, and you hear + The ring of your own vow. + [_He sits bowed_] + You hear it now + Above your passion's chime. 'Twill fill the air + When love's mad bells grow quiet, and your soul + Asks the old question. Let me then be far + From thee, nor stay to be a claspèd fire + Eating thy side. + + _Ber._ You'll heal me of my fear. + [_Reaching his hands to her_] + My fountain and my palm! + + _Ard._ Your doubt would stir + Beneath your tenderest deep. My nearing step + Would as a trumpet start its buried storm + To sweep our meeting eyes. + + _Ber._ If Christ would give + A sign,--leave me no choice,--no other way + + _Ard._ The torch of Fate but blinds us when the heart + Beareth no light. + + _Ber._ Not Fate, but Heaven--there + I'd read my sign. + + _Ard._ Hope not, my lord, that Heaven + Will drive me to your arms. Farewell. + + _Ber._ No, no! + To keep you I'll dare hell---- + + _Ard._ Dare hell? My love + Walks not that fiery verge, but waits thine own + In regions nearer God. There we shall meet, + And there will be no hell. + [_Turns to go, but is drawn back by his grief_] + Thou art a prince + Of Christ. Arise and rule this land for him. + There is no sin in you. You've kissed my hands, + And they are bright as stars! + + _Ber._ O, can you go? + You do not love me. In your breast are wings-- + No heart, but wings that seek the mountain sky. + Go perch above me, leave me dying here. + And cool your bosom with a virgin song + To mateless heaven! + + _Ard._ Who is cruel now? + You have the world to feed on, need not eat + Your heart as I must--I, the woman. Dear, + Where Kidmir cliffs climb highest to the sky + I'll keep my watch, but thou shall rise above me + In thought of men. O'er all discerning shall + Thy purpose wing, perhaps be drunk of clouds, + But light shall follow where thine aim has sped, + And leading upward with your comrade world, + My Kidmir shall seem lowly, where I walk + With stintless ache beneath the cedar boughs + On pain's moon nights. And oh, the Springs to pass, + When each bride-bud shall be a wound to me, + When grasses young, and softly pushing moss, + Shall urge my feet like fire, and I must stand + Quite still ... quite still ... with all my unborn babes + Dead in my heart. + + _Ber._ [_Motionless_] You dare not leave me now. + You dare not, Ardia. + + _Ard._ I dare not stay. + + [_As she nears the great doors they rumble shut and are noisily barred + without_] + + _Ard._ Ho! Open, open, open! I pray you, open! + [_Beats on door, then leans to the silence_] + Shut in ... shut in! So Oswald's treachery + Begins with me. My father, we are lost. + You are to die, and I--to-morrow, oh, + My honor will go wasting on the fields + With every soldier's breath! You hear, my lord? + We are shut in.... + + _Ber._ The miracle! + + _Ard._ Together.... + + _Ber._ The sign! the sign! + + _Ard._ For all the night.... + + _Ber._ For all + Eternity! There is no other way. + I take you as from Christ. My bride, my bride! + + [Curtain] + + +SCENE 2. _The same. Gray of morning seen through grating of window, +rear, where Bertrand stands looking out and upward. Ardia is sleeping +on a couch. The dawn-light wakes her and she starts up._ + + + _Ard._ 'Tis morning. Bertrand! You have watched all night? + + _Ber._ O, there has been no night. + + _Ard._ I slept it through. + + _Ber._ Thy body slept, but thou hast been with me + O'er all the world, and farther than the world, + Out where the life begins. + + _Ard._ That may be true, + For I had wondrous dreams. + + _Ber._ You speak of dreams? + A magic touched me, and I woke from dream + Knowing my life. What ways we went! All things + Seemed new, warm with the Maker's hand, as young + As our own eyes, but 'twas eternity + That kept them sweet, unaging. + + _Ard._ It was Love + Who gave thee eyes to see the world immortal + Even in our own. + + _Ber._ Do all Love's votaries + Walk with such magic sight? + + _Ard._ In truth! I've seen + A beggar woman tread the road-side dust + As it were showered gold, because she had + Love's eyes. And we--what joys our joy shall find! + The pearling skies with rose-breath drinking ours + 'Tween sea and dawn! The leaves that turn i' the wind + And tremble in our hearts--the brook-song that + Began beyond the stars--the woodland nests, + Breast-warm---- + + _Ber._ And one is ours. + + _Ard._ The lark that leaves + His meadow-mate and reels at the sun's door + Dropping his song of fire and clover-dew + Down to her heart. + + _Ber._ [_Kissing her_] As this in thine! + + _Ard._ And all + Life's dearer-veinèd joys,--the way-side hands + That pluck to camp-fire glow,--the smile of age, + Gift-sweet and wise beside the garner door---- + + _Ber._ Ay, dear are these ... but when we came again + From that far, holy place.... + + _Ard._ Ah, in your dream. + + _Ber._ Where no words go or come.... + + _Ard._ When we came back? + + _Ber._ Walking the light between the parted stars, + And met the days that knew us ... naught could hide + The eternal joy within it. Twas a world + Whose beauty lay allwheres. O, not alone + In morning skies and mated larks a-wing! + Each rag-hung thing was dipped in chosen time + And wore its royal hour. + + _Ard._ If that could be! + + _Ber._ What seers, what eyes of light, outshone the pain + That gave them being! Tears that silvered graves + Globed in their pearl the immortal hope of men, + And seemed as beautiful as prophecy + Burning in its own truth. Ay, where a man + Fell murdered, crying "I forgive," the ground + Sprang as a garden---- + + _Ard._ Murdered? O, not that! + How could you say it? I had forgot, forgot! + Love in your dream looked you quite through the soul + Of Time on things to be? What saw you then? + Ah, tell me! + + _Ber._ Then?... Then came this dimmer light + Which you called morning, and I saw no more. + + _Ard._ I would I knew! + + _Ber._ You fear even now? + + _Ard._ O, me! + + _Ber._ Sweet, leave these shadows--dreams of ancient night + That cling too late upon a day-warm world. + Must I persuade you still that Oswald means + Our happiness? + + _Ard._ Hark you! They come, my lord. + + _Ber._ The sunrise feast. Fit place and time to break + The fast of love. + + _Ard._ O, hear! So many feet! + + _Ber._ Dear trembler, do not fear. + + _Ard._ They're here, my lord. + + _Ber._ Welcome the world. It has no eye can make + Our own seek earth. + + [_Doors open. Enter Frederick, Oswald, Charilus, Berenice, with lords + and ladies attending. Servants follow bearing trays, and lay the + table. Ardia hastens to her father and they talk apart. Oswald + advances to Bertrand, right, the others lingering left_] + + _Osw._ I am forgiven? + + _Ber._ Forgiven! + Ask God and Love! I'll thank you all my life + That you did force me take my only way + To Heaven. + + _Osw._ Hmm! And I spent a bitter night + Fearing your morning face. + + _Ber._ It was my soul's + Birth-night. + + _Osw._ God bless me, you are grateful, sir. + But you've good reason. [_Looks at Ardia_] I had no such mate + To make the dark hours fly. + + _Ber._ Pray speak to her. + + _Osw._ In my good time. + + _Ber._ Nay, now! + + _Osw._ The day is long. + I shall be gentle, for I owe her much + Who gives me back my son. Come to our guests. + + _Ber._ Does Frederick---- + + _Osw._ Ay, he knows all, and bears + No grudge. + + _Ber._ Knows all? + + _Osw._ He clapped my plot as though + His own thick noll had hatched it. + + _Ber._ And the princess---- + + _Osw._ You see her smile? There's answer for you. Come! + No blush! Put on a face. Your bridal news + Shall sauce our banquet. + + [_They move to guests_] + + _Fred._ [_To Bertrand_] Greet you, sir! But why + So pale, my lord? I fear me you have spent + A sleepless night. + + _Ber._ Ay, as the stars. + + _A Lord._ The stars? + He winked then, by the rood! + + _Ber._ What do you say? + + _Lord._ I say the stars do wink, most gracious prince. + + _Osw._ Come, find your seats, my friends! Yet two of us, + Lord Charilus and my unworthy self + Must keep our feet till we have drunk the wine + Made sacrosanct by one night's rest upon + The Virgin's altar. + [_Bertrand places Ardia's seat by her father, who stands at the left + of Oswald_] + You, fair Berenice, + Sit at my right, and on your other side + The graceless prince of Suli begs for room. + + _Bere._ He beg, my lord? I have not heard his tongue, + And for his eyes, I fear no leek of Wales + Could pull a beggar's tear from them to oil + This suit. But he is welcome. + + _Ber._ [_Taking seat by her_] Thank you, lady. + + [_When all are seated save Charilus and Oswald a priest enters bearing + a chalice of wine which he places on table before Oswald_] + + _Osw._ This is the cup by angels visited + In night's deep hours. Herein they dropped the peace + Of Heaven, which Charilus and I shall take + Into our hearts. I know in truth it holds + Sweet peace for me--the peace that thirty years + My veins have ached for. Charilus, what say you? + + _Char._ My heart can hold no more of peace than now + Doth fill it, but I drink with you, my lord. + + [_Drinks from goblet which Oswald has filled from chalice, and Oswald + drinks from goblet filled by Charilus_] + + _Osw._ [_Dropping his glass_] Is peace a fire? + I' faith, this kindles me! + Thou smileless priest, take off the Virgin's cup! + You think it needs another blessing, sir, + Since my bold hand has touched it? Out with you! + [_Exit priest with chalice_] + That pinch-face has seen hell and fasts to keep + The ghost down. I'll not fast. Set to, my friends. + Fill up your bowls, for I've a health for you. + We drink to Berenice, bride to be + Of Bertrand, prince of Suli and my son! + + _A Lord._ [_As all lift their glasses_] + We pledge the bride of Bertrand--Berenice! + + _Ber._ Drink not, my lords, till you have changed that name + To Ardia, daughter of our noble guest, + Lord Charilus! + + _Fred._ [_Rising_] If this be sport, Earl Oswald, + A world of groans shall pay for 't! + + _Bere._ [_In mock swoon_] Oh.... I faint.... + + [_Her ladies help her_] + + _Osw._ You bawling ass! You thousand times a fool! + + _Ber._ [_To Oswald_] You've woven a maze about me, and I'm blind + With 't, yet I see to pluck one truth,--my bride + Is Ardia. No other under Heaven! My lords, + It is the wine---- + + _Osw._ Would then 'twere in your throat! + Is this the riddle of your morning smile? + Your fair compliance, soft submission? Sir, + By my heart's blood, I'll give you to the sword + Ere you shall make me father to a drab-- + The spoil of your own lust, the--What, you draw? + Ay, strike me down! Let me be first to fall + Beneath your mighty sword! The rust has lain + A lifetime on it, and a father's blood + May cleanse it bright as Heaven! + + _Ber._ O, my Christ! + + _Osw._ Yea, call on him, and he will hear thee too, + Who honorest so thy father! + [_Bertrand stands speechless_] + Now, my lords, + Since he no longer brays, I have a tale + To tell you. I, too, had a father, though + The world has long forgot him. + + _Fred._ No, my friend. + Well do I bear in mind his fair, proud face, + And glory of his arms. + + _Osw._ He was struck down + Because a minion, straying from the hearth, + Looked on his beauty with her nestling eyes. + + _Fred._ For no more cause? + + _Osw._ I swear it. Friends, if death + Were the cold price for kissing of a jade, + Who here would be alive? For so slight sin + Was my brave father murdered. Charilus, speak! + Was not the princely heart of John of Clyffe + Ripped with a hate-keen sword,--the sword of him + Who claimed the lordship of those rebel lips + That chose my father liege? + + _Char._ It is too true. + + _Osw._ Who better knows? Say that a wilding flies + The builded bower, hearing a lordlier song + Pass on the wind than her dull mate can tune, + Must then the singer die, who scarcely knows + His song is heard, or that a bold wing follows? + + _Char._ Whether the earl of Clyffe sang then to woo, + As I believe, or for the love of song, + As you do say, my lord,--his death was sin, + And he who wrought that woe shed tears enough + To clear his stain, if tears may whiten souls. + + _Osw._ A murderer's tears! But what of mine, the son's? + + _Ber._ Your oath--your honor, sir! Where is the love + You swore should cleanse your shield? + + _Osw._ Safe in my heart. + And burning for my father. + + _Ber._ God of pity! + + _Osw._ That was the love I spoke of. + + _Ber._ All be deaf + But hell! + + _Osw._ Hear the full tale, my friends. I swear + The earl of Clyffe died for no more offence + Than I have here set out,--and I, his only son, + Kissed his red wounds and from his breast unbound + This bloody scarf--[_taking scarf from his bosom_] that then was + crimson, now + In age-grown black bemourns my step that comes + So sluggish to revenge. For thirty years + Had passed ere I beheld his murderer, + Then face to face we stood ... and face to face + We stand ... for this is he, this Charilus + Of Kidmir--peace-lipped Cain--gray hypocrite, + Whose blood is honey in his veins, whose eyes + Stare on the world as he were some bland god + Who made it and said "good." + + _Char._ Sir, I would send + My daughter to her brothers. Grant me this. + And I am ready for what death you please. + + _Ard._ I will not go. One sword shall strike us both. + [_Turns to Oswald_] + But first a word to you. When Charilus falls, + Say farewell to your son. He pledged his life + To my two brothers for our father's safety, + And you, who know him least, yet know he'll keep + That pledge. + + _Osw._ What, creature, will you lie? + + _Ard._ I speak + The truth. Strike, if you can, this gray old man, + Silvered in service to the one high God, + Sinless as sunlight, fair in sweetened age,-- + Let forth his sainted blood, and Bertrand lives + No longer than the shortest time between + Suli and Kidmir. + + _Osw._ That's a lifetime then! + He shall not step! I'll have him hung with chains + Till he is fast as rooted oaks in earth! + + _Ber._ [_Stunned_] A guest betrayed.... + + _Osw._ Betrayed? I promised him + Such treatment as he gave my blood. And he + Shall have it--death! + + _Char._ Peace be my heir! + + _Ber._ [_Takes stand by Charilus_] Death, sir? + First break this sword! Thy sin must be unnamed + Until the angel who doth write thee damned + Gives it foul christening. I break my pledge. + I will not go to Kidmir. Here I'll give + My life for Charilus. + + _Char._ No blow for me! + O, may I unavengèd lie forgot, + And my forgiving blood make barren ground + Alive with asphodel---- + + _Ber._ Nay, I will strike, + Though a father's sword meet mine! + + [_Charilus trembles, and supports himself by Ardia's arm_] + + _Osw._ Commend me, stars! + You counselled well. [_To Bertrand_] Fool, do not draw. There's none + Will run against you. Charilus is dead, + And by a way more sure. His holy goblet + Held one rich drop the angels put not there + Nor Virgin blessed. See how he pales--and stares-- + And cannot get his voice? So are we spared + A swan-song homily trickling through his beard. + Be off, old pray-lip--off, and take with you + Your cat-foot peace and milky piety! + I serve a vengeful God who armeth men + For his own wars! + + _Ber._ Heaven, draw thy clouds about thee! + + [_Charilus dies in Ardia's arms_] + + _Osw._ He's dead! The air of earth is sweet again. + I have no enemy! + + _Ber._ [_Looking up from the body_] You have no son. + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE: _On Kidmir Pass. Moonlight paling to dawn. Ardia alone, +struggling up the Pass._ + + + _Ard._ [_Looking back_] They do not follow. I am safe from that. + [_Sits on a rock_] + Why should I climb? There is no rest up there. + But there is death, mayhap,--and that is worth + The sorest climbing. O, my father dear, + Is 't thy dead self so heavy on my heart? + Thou shouldst be light upon thy spirit wings, + And give me of thy freedom. + [_Gaina enters from above_] + Gaina, hast found + The spring? + + _Gaina._ 'Tis farther up. + + _Ard._ More steps. + + _Gaina._ Wait here. + Barca will bring you drink. Nay, sit you still. + + _Ard._ I must. How this weak body masters us, + Cooling the bravest will that in strong limbs + Might dance to any goal! Yet do we say + The will is lord, whose flush is in the blood + And fades wi' the paling body. By that lie + We cling to Heaven and immortality. + ... O, I am lost so deep I need not fear + The farthest bolt of God! Out, out the pale + Of his concern! + + _Gaina._ Why now, honey dear! + A sip of fine spring water and you'll be + A lark o' the morning! All's not bad, I say. + There's Banissat would marry you to-morrow! + What pretty words he spoke, and took us in + Like a good father--but I saw him look! + And he were shaved he'd have a merry eye. + Such meal and honey! _I've_ a thankful tooth! + Come now, what say you? Run from such a fortune, + And stumbling is no matter. Ay, a trip + Or two were well enough. + + _Ard._ Yes, foolish 'twas + To fly from Banissat. + + _Gaina._ You know it? Well, well, + If it's your own right mind you've run to, dearie, + There's no harm done past mending. + + _Ard._ [_Taking a small dagger from her dress_] This had saved + My feet these weary steps. + + _Gaina._ Sweet Mary, save us! + Wouldst slay a prince for loving thee? + + _Ard._ No, wretch. + I could not take another's life though 'twere + Of all the world the foulest. + + _Gaina._ Bless the lass! + + _Ard._ But out of pity I could take my own. + Why should my heart beat on and labor so + For merest leave to beat again? + + _Gaina._ Now, now! + [_Enter Barca_] + Here's Barca, praise the saints! Now you'll take heart! + + [_Ardia takes gourd from Barca and drinks_] + + _Ard._ Thanks, Barca. But there's misery in the draught + That makes me keen again. I fear me I'll + Yet hope. + + _Barca._ Will you walk on? + + _Ard._ Yes, come. + + _Barca._ [_Listening_] What's that? + A noise below! + + _Ard._ Some one from Banissat! + I'll not be taken! + + _Barca._ Come aside, my lady. + Here is good hiding. + + [_They go behind a great rock half hidden by cedars. Bertrand enters + below. Ardia steps out and stands before him. He kneels_] + + _Ber._ Spirit, hast come for me? I'll join thee, love, + When I have climbed this peak and met the sword + That sets my honor free. + + _Ard._ Nay, rise, my lord. + + _Ber._ [_Rising_] Thy living self? Here in the night alone? + + _Ard._ Barca is here, and Gaina. + + _Ber._ Sweet, the moon + Makes thee so fair. + + _Ard._ [_Smiling_] Was I not always fair? + + _Ber._ [_Embracing her_] My living love! Sit here,--and now thy story. + + _Ard._ I'll shorten it to get to thine. + + _Ber._ You had + The dagger that I sent you? [_She shows it to him_] My sole gift + To love. + + _Ard._ O, it was dear as death then seemed + To me! + + _Ber._ Cast it away. + + _Ard._ No, for love's sake + I'll keep it, and it shall do no work save God's. + Listen ... it prophesies.... I'll need it yet. + + _Ber._ O, I was mad to send it! Would you wreck + This tent set fair upon the soul's long road, + By pain-craft wrought of every whiter dream, + Where God may sit with us and map the winds + That forward blow and back, the paths laid free + To His far end, and those where blind walls rise + Breast-piled with thwarted dust? Dear soul of me, + Would we know Heaven we must listen here, + And one word lost may mean a path all dark + When we fare outward. This is not for you, + This fear-born blade. Away with it! + [_She clasps it closer_] + Is not + Your danger past? + + _Ard._ Not while Avesta loves. + + _Ber._ O God! But tell me now the full, foul story,-- + Yet not all foul, since you are here alive. + + _Ard._ Your father---- + + _Ber._ I've no father! + + _Ard._ --sent me forth + With my two servants. When we reached Avesta, + The prince met us with welcome, much too warm + Methought, so in the night we stole away + And reached the pass--all with some wit and care, + As you shall know hereafter. Now your word. + + _Ber._ I was imprisoned. + + _Ard._ Yes, I know. + + _Ber._ A guard + Gave me his sword. I fought the others. + + _Ard._ Fought? + + _Ber._ And killed. Look on this blade. A brother's blood. + + _Ard._ My love! + + _Ber._ At last I am Earl Oswald's son! + + _Ard._ My Bertrand! [_Drawing aside his cloak_] + You are wounded! Vairdelan! + + _Ber._ That name is no more mine. + + _Ard._ How did you pass + Avesta? + + _Ber._ The guards were friends of Vairdelan. + I used the stainless name that I had lost. + O, I have lied to keep my word, and slew + That I might die! + + _Ard._ Might die? You mean ... my brothers. + They must be merciful. + + _Ber._ With Charilus slain? + + _Ard._ O, me! I too shall die. And that is best, + If anything we do be worst or best. + I've read within my father's secret script + That earth shall lose its heart of fire, and lie + Dead-cold and dark with no green thing upon it. + Then this black crust shall bear no form of man, + Nor trace of him. Why then such ceaseless pain + To look a little longer on the sun, + When he who seals his eyes this day with dust + But leagues with time to reach the journey's end + Without the journey's ache? + + _Ber._ Hast lost thy faith? + My heart, say earth must be its own still grave, + Our destiny lies farther. But were life + A march to naught, I'd choose it for the sake + Of one bright wonder by the way--your love, + My Ardia. + + _Ard._ You love me, yet would die. Thou'rt mine! + And I will hold thee, yea, on this warm earth, + Not in some strange and tearless world! + + [_While they speak Barca moves up the pass and listens_] + + _Barca._ My lord? + + _Ber._ Ay, Barca? + + _Barca._ Men are on the pass. + + _Ard._ Above? + My brothers! Oh! + + _Ber._ I go to meet them. + + _Ard._ Stay! + + _Ber._ They shall not come to me. I go to them. + My honor, love, my honor! + + _Ard._ O, men, men! + You build a shrine to love and ask us fling + Our lives, our souls into it. Once within, + The door forever shut, there sits a god, + A monster-god, your honor, and we must sue + For barest room to stand or crouch or kneel + Where by your oaths we should be sovereign. + + _Ber._ The shrine itself is honor, dear, my heart. + That gone, we have indeed no holy place + To shelter love. Was 't not yourself who said + That man to man must keep his pledge? + + _Ard._ Ah me, + That shining night! That night of golden wings! + And now comes this. Can such two nights be born + In the same world, and but one sun between? + [_Bertrand staggers_] + You're bleeding still! + + _Ber._ Fast, fast. + + _Ard._ My veil---- + I'll wrap you with it! [_Binds wound_] + + _Ber._ Thanks, for I would live + To die upon their swords. + + _Ard._ Wait, wait, my lord! + O, do not meet them in their first deep rage---- + + _Ber._ Farewell! + + _Ard._ You shall not see them till my prayers + Have turned their hearts from blood. + + _Ber._ Part thou with hope + And pain will leave thee too. That is the wrench, + Not death. + + _Ard._ Stay, stay! Are there not miracles yet? + I'll hide you yonder till---- + + _Ber._ They come! + + [_Hurries up pass, staggers and falls_] + + _Ard._ He faints! + The miracle begins! Here, Barca, Gaina, + Bear him aside. He swift! Then come to me. + O, gently, Barca! Haste! + [_Barca draws Bertrand behind the rocks_] + He shall be saved! + Thou'lt not deny me, Heaven! O, forget + That ever I blasphemed Thee! + + [_Enter, above, Biondel and Vigard_] + + _Vig._ Who is here? + + _Ard._ My brothers! + + _Vig._ Ardia, by my life! + + _Bion._ 'Tis she. + What do you here? + + _Ard._ I go to you. Where else + Shall I find shelter in a world now bare + Save where your hearts make gentle room for me? + + _Bion._ What do you mean? Where is our father? Speak! + + _Ard._ You have not heard? Why then do you go down? + + _Bion._ For word of Charilus. No messenger + Has come. All night we watched. What can you say + More than this fearful meeting tells? No word? + Are you the ghost you look? Is Charilus safe? + + _Ard._ Safe as yon Heaven would have him. He is dead. + [_Silence_] + You loved him, though you went another way + To find your God. + + _Bion._ Our father dead? O, sister, + Not cold, not still, not silent to his sons. + Who loved his voice even when they most forsook it! + + _Ard._ Oswald betrayed us. + + _Vig._ O, my sword, 'tis thou + Shalt split his heart, though every spear in Suli + Then pierce my own! [_Going_] + + _Bion._ Stay, Vigard! + + _Vig._ Earth is fire! + Can you be still upon it? Where is Bertrand + With his deep oaths? O, coward! I will seek him---- + + _Ard._ No need. He'll come to you. + + _Bion._ He'll keep his oath, + You think? + + _Ard._ I know he will. + + _Vig._ So knew you too + That Charilus was safe. Call him to life, + And we'll believe you yet! + + _Bion._ How died our father? + [_Ardia weeps_] + No matter now. And Oswald cast you out? + Afoot? + + _Gaina._ Ay, so he did! I'll answer that! + + _Ard._ He sent us under guard. + + _Gaina._ Ay, but afoot! + And 'twas a trudge to Avesta. O, the day! + + _Bion._ Prince Banissat gave you no help? + + _Gaina._ No help? + Who said so? There's a prince! He drew his sword, + And swore he'd drive Earl Oswald to the sea, + And said "Avesta's yours,"--that to my mistress, + She then bedraggled and so full of tears + She had no words to thank him. I did that! + Then we had sup and bed, and when my bones + Were sweet with sleep, why we must up again + And tug it to the peak. + + _Bion._ [_To Ardia_] He sheltered you! + Then there was hope, which you have trampled down + By this mad flight. + + _Ard._ I dared not think the prince + Would make my bitter fortunes his. In you + Lay my defence, and to your love I came. + You must make peace with Oswald. Yes, my brothers, + Although you write it with our father's blood. + He is all powerful. When Bertrand comes---- + + _Vig._ Ha, when he comes! + + _Bion._ What then? + + _Ard._ You may demand + Whate'er you will of Oswald, if you spare + The dear life of his son. + + _Vig._ I'll have that life + And Oswald's too! + + _Ard._ He'll make you any terms---- + + _Vig._ Ay, any terms, and keep none, once his son + Is safe. + + _Bion._ [_Looking down the pass_] Who comes?--with gleaming lances? Ah.... + The prince! + + _Vig._ By Allah, he! + + [_It is now dawn. Ardia steps back into shadow as Banissat and followers + enter. His retainers wait at entrance below while he advances_] + + _Ban._ Good-morrow, friends. + + _Bion._ Hail to you, Banissat! + + _Ban._ I seek a dove + That fled my hand last night. Has 't flown your way? + + _Bion._ Our sister is with us. + + _Ban._ Then search ends here. + + _Bion._ Her flight meant no ingratitude, my lord. + Her father's arms grown cold, she came to ours + By the shortest way, bringing her honor home + Where none might question it. + + _Ban._ We love her more + For watchful care of what to us is precious + As to herself. Heaven-pure must be the bride + Of Banissat, and tainted Heaven will put + The earth to blush ere she will bring us shame. + I offer her my princedom. + + _Ard._ [_Stepping out_] One whose veil + Is lost? Whose face is common to the eyes + Of beggars by the road? + + _Ban._ O, bald and bitter! + But did not one, our Lady of Paradise, + Walk with bare brow among our counsellors? + And you are pure as she. Who dares to soil + The chosen of Banissat with whisper that + He saw you on this journey, forfeits eyes + And tongue. So silence shall give burial deep + To every slander. + + _Ard._ You will not forget. + + _Ban._ Yourself shall be my dear oblivion. + For Beauty keeps no records, has no past; + Her arms engird love's moment, and there is + No other time. + + _Ard._ Nay, Beauty's history + Is writ beneath her bloom, and when that goes + The deep, uncovered scars are hated more + Because of love that kissed them unaware. + I dare not wed you, but say that I dared, + Wouldst grasp my broken fortunes when you need + Strong Antioch's staff and sceptre to make good + Your gates 'gainst Oswald? And I've heard, my lord, + That Antioch's daughter is a prize you seek. + + _Ban._ Be not o'er-jealous, Ardia of the Stars, + For Antioch shall serve thee. There my suit + Is but a fair appearance,--there I woo + To make thy state secure, and thou shalt be + Bride of my heart unrivalled. + + _Ard._ Hear me then! + I am betrothed to Bertrand. He is sworn + To me as I to him. + + _Vig._ Death to your tongue! + You'd wed your father's slayer? + + _Ard._ I would wed + Lord Bertrand. [_Kneels to Biondel_] Brother! + + _Vig._ Give no ear to her! + + _Ard._ If you would save Avesta and yourselves, + Make peace with Oswald. Trust not Antioch. + When Bertrand comes---- + + _Vig._ He will not come! He's not + A fool as thou! + + _Ard._ He comes! + + _Vig._ [_Lifting his sword_] Then here's his welcome! + + [_Bertrand comes out and walks slowly to the group. Vigard, amazed, + lowers his sword_] + + _Ber._ My friends, well met. You cut my journey short. + + [_Gives his sword to Biondel_] + + _Bion._ You have come back ... to death? + + _Ber._ The blow, my lord. + Your work is wellnigh done. An easy stroke + Will finish it. + + _Vig._ And whose is that? + + _Bion._ Not mine. + I do condemn him, but can lift no hand + To seal mine order. + + _Vig._ I am not so weak. + This blow for Charilus! + + _Ard._ [_Staying him_] If Bertrand dies + My honor goes unto a grave so deep + No shoot of green will ever from it spring + For the world's eye to light on. + + _Bion._ You make much + Of broken troth. There's many a maid has lived + In wedded honor with a second choice. + + _Ard._ But I may not. + + _Bion._ Peace, sister. + + _Ard._ Let him live, + And Suli's glory will enwrap my name + Stainless and safe. + + _Ban._ 'Tis safe with me. Ay, safer. + Let Antioch enlist with me, and I + Shall wear the name of Suli with my own. + + _Ard._ You've yet to hear ... you do not know, my lord.... + + _Ber._ Sweet, plead no more. Let me go on to Heaven + If 't be God wills his gates shall ope to me. + + _Vig._ You'll stop in hell a thousand years or so! + + _Ard._ Wait! I will tell---- + + _Vig._ You've said too much! + + _Bion._ Speak, Ardia. + + _Ard._ In Suli castle where I was betrothed + To Bertrand, just one sun agone--but one-- + He spent the night with me. + + _Vig._ She lies! + + _Ard._ Say now + If Banissat, or any lord save Bertrand, + Will make me wife. + + _Bion._ Must I believe you? + + _Ban._ No. + A woman's trick. + + _Ard._ There's proof. Ask whom you will + Of Oswald's train--the lords who saw me cast + From Suli's door, too vile for word or touch. + Ask any trooper, jesting by the way, + And hear my name made foul. The army rings + With it. Ask any gossip of the tents---- + + _Ban._ O, stop her tongue! It thunders on me! All + The air is storm! Peace, or I'll strike her down! + + _Bion._ This seals your death, Lord Bertrand. Now my hand + Is hot and willing. + + [_Enter a messenger below. He gives a packet to Banissat_] + + _Messenger._ Antioch sends this, + O, prince! + + _Bion._ [_To Bertrand_] I had your word above all oaths + That you would guard our sister. When the priest + Strips bare the shrine, not outraged God or man + Shall show him mercy. + + _Ard._ He is innocent! + 'Twas Oswald's plot to cast me in the dust-- + And there I lie where all the world may see-- + But Bertrand's soul is guiltless---- + + _Vig._ Guiltless! Tush! + Your puzzle's clear. [_To Biondel_] She dies with him. + + _Ard._ I die + If Bertrand dies. But, oh my brothers, we + Are young--we love--will you not let us live? + + _Bion._ [_To Vigard_] 'Tis best she dies. + + _Ber._ You will not dare---- + + _Bion._ The prince + Shall be her judge. + + _Ban._ First let us speak aside, + For Antioch fails us, and we've more to weigh + Than the quick death of this too-guilty pair. + + [_Banissat, Biondel, and Vigard go off above_] + + _Ber._ I have brought death upon you. + + _Ard._ Life, 'tis life + Now beating in the dawn! What music! Hear it! + O, we shall live, my lord, and live together! + + _Ber._ In Heaven, love. + + _Ard._ True, for this planet too, + Ay, even this earth, is set in Heaven as deep + As any star. 'Tis we are heaven to eyes + In other worlds, and would be to our own + Could we believe. O, hope with me, my Bertrand! + No, no, not hope, whose other half is doubt, + And to its dark and fearful double owes + Its very radiance, too, too unlike + Belief's transmuting sun! + + _Ber._ Ah, love, no man ere broke + Undrained his cup, or brewed again those drops + To his desire---- + + _Ard._ Nay, every man is new + In destiny, his star his own, and foots + Unmeasured paths. + + _Ber._ On mortal feet. + + _Ard._ Be 't so, + Each birth is a high venture of the soul + Feeling an untried way for deity's dream, + And none may know where th' deep and twilight trail + Shall flash with God-rift, and the dawn be his. + + _Ber._ O, bravest, bow thy head---- + + _Ard._ Nay, nay, my lord! + Lock up your spirit, let mine rule this hour, + Or be with me the flame of faith that leaps + To deed in God. For we do help him, dear. + Our parcelled strength is whole and new in His, + A power born that touches us again, + Breeding our greater self that yet gives back + His own increase, until the way is strewn + Even with his miracles and ours. So works + The unending drama out, where every act + Begets an act yet greater than itself. + + _Ber._ Let me but kiss thy hands. + + _Ard._ You will not help? + You'll not believe? Is it so strange + That you should live? + + _Ber._ That hate should let me live. + + _Ard._ Is it more strange that halo should grow love-still, + Than that the wind should cease, as now it does, + To strip the bloom from yonder bough, and lie + Unfelt within its silent place? More strange + That life should keep its flow in your warm veins + Than that the sun now creeping on the peaks + Should wander down and on and lay in gold + The valleys of the world, moved by no hand + We see or name, but know, but know! + + [_Biondel, Vigard, and Banissat re-enter_] + + _Ard._ He lives! + + _Bion._ He lives. Speak the conditions, prince. + + _Ban._ [_To Bertrand_] Your life + Is spared that she whose name is lost + May wear your own. You shall remain on Kidmir peak, + And make her yours by every priestly rite + With open, fair observance. Then Earl Oswald + Must greet as daughter one he vilely mocked + From his proud door, and far and wide acclaim her + Princess of Suli. Will his love for you + So bow his heart? + + _Ber._ I may not speak for him. + + _Ard._ He will consent. + + _Ban._ And, further, he shall give + To Biondel the governorship of Ilon. + And grant Ramoor to Vigard. + + _Ber._ Not for price + Of my poor life will Oswald yield these towns + To any save a Christian. + + _Ban._ So we think. + And therefore will these lords forswear + The Prophet for your Christ. + + _Ber._ Such sudden change---- + + _Vig._ Not sudden, sir. We've long debated it + In secret talk, but loved too well our prince + To so forsake his banner. + + _Bion._ Now the day + Is here when as his true and Christian friends + We may best serve him, and yet keep the peace + For which our father died. + + _Ber._ He is alive again + If you be true. Though wonder is in the hour + I will not stare or question. + + _Ard._ Question nothing. + Do you not live? + + _Bion._ The prince will summon Oswald + To earliest parley, and make our offer known. + + _Ban._ Nor lose an instant. Here begins my journey. + + [_Signs to retainers who start down the pass_] + + _Bion._ We need not give you thanks when you've our hearts + That hold them. + + _Ban._ By the sunset hour the earl + Shall give me answer. Meet me in Avesta + 'Tween dark and light. + + _Bion._ We will, my lord. + + [_Exit Banissat_] + + _Ber._ O, strange! + Will he keep faith? + + _Bion._ If you must doubt his heart, + Trust his affliction. Antioch lost to him, + What can he do but smile on Christian Oswald? + By that same argument I am condemned, + But beg a respite till this pushing peace, + Upsprung in haste, may bear you buds of proof. + + _Ber._ What world is this? + + _Vig._ Climb you no farther, sir. + Your wounds forbid. Our servants shall be sent + To bear you up. + + _Bion._ Ay, wait you here, my lord. + + [_Exeunt Biondel and Vigard above_] + + _Ber._ Love, see the sun! + + _Ard._ It is my heart, my heart! + + + [_Curtain_] + + + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE: _Same as first act. An altar near wall, left. Seven maidens +putting fresh garlands about the hall._ + + + _Mylitta._ She must be dressed by this. Come, let us sing! + + _Mirimond._ No, wait! Our part is yet undone. Here hangs + A withered garland. + + _Alenia._ Here another. See! + And there! Well, we are slack. + + _Eudora._ Who would not be? + We've cause for sleepy wits and fingers too, + With seven days and nights of revelling. + + _Garla._ And Charilus warm in 's grave. + + _Myrana._ He'll be no colder + Let come a hundred months. Ten years, ten days, + 'Tis all the same i' the ground. + + _Daphne._ And yet, I think + The daughter smiles too soon. + + _Mylitta._ Troth, I would smile + For such a lord if all the world beside + Were wrapped in shroud. + + _Mirimond._ I would the English knights + Were come! Full fifty, Barca said, would ride + From Suli. + + _Mylitta._ I know you, chit. Your eyes will find + Their way. + + _Mirimond._ Mayhap not all of us will take + The homeward ship for Corinth. Did we think + When we set sail we'd come in time to see + Our Ardia married? + + _Mylitta._ You will dream. + + _Garla._ If dreams + Were men, what maid would go unwed? Not you, + Mylitta. + + _Myrana._ Come, our song! 'Tis time! + + _Eudora._ Come, all! + + [_They sing by Ardia's door_] + + Mornings seven have we been + Wardens at thy door; + Now thy lord shall enter in, + And we come no more. + + Mornings seven have we strewn + Lilies at thy door; + Now the virgin watch is done. + And we come no more. + + Mornings seven have we sung + At thy maiden door; + Now the seventh morn is rung, + And we come no more. + + [_Door opens and Ardia comes out. Gaina follows_] + + _Ard._ A kiss to all! Who's happier here than I + Shall have my place. + + _Mirimond._ We'll ask Lord Bertrand that. + Thou'rt no more mistress of your yeas and nays. + + _Ard._ O, but I am! I have a votary now + Who'll make my words his wishes and himself + Bring them to pass. + + _Mylitta._ No doubt. You'll cough + In oracles. He'll puzzle o'er your sneeze + That he may do its meaning. I have heard + Such husbands do inhabit a green moon, + And one may come to earth. + + _Ard._ Kiss me, Mylitta! + Naught else will stop your mouth. O, dearest girls, + No father's here to give me to my lord, + And yet I smile, I wed. For why?--his love + Is not in earth with his dear body. No! + 'Tis all about me here, bathing my heart, + Now on my brow, now whispers at my ear, + Now runs before my eyes to make a light + Where they would rest. He loves this day as I do! + Yet I had stayed this busking marriage + Had not my brothers pressed me to such haste + And peace not waited on it. Think, dear maidens, + Peace everywhere! Avesta safe and free, + And Oswald's sword in sheath-- + What is that chanting? + + _Gaina._ [_Looking from parapet_] A train comes up the heights. + + _Mylitta._ The English Lords! + + [_Enter Barca, left_] + + _Ard._ Barca, who comes? + + _Barca._ Prince Banissat, my lady, + With all his court attending. + + _Mirimond._ Banissat! + This is a Christian wedding. + + _Ard._ We are at peace. + + _Barca._ He brings you gifts. Your brothers go to meet him. + + _Ard._ Where is Lord Bertrand? + + _Barca._ Near at hand. He comes + This way. + + [_Exit Barca, left_] + + _Ard._ My girls, wouldst see what dainties lie + In yonder chamber? + + _Mylitta._ Nay, we'll wait. + + _Ard._ Moonstones + For golden hair--crescents and amber stars + For tresses dark---- + + _Girls._ O! O! + + _Ard._ Veils of spun silver---- + + [_Maidens buzz through door right_] + + _Ard._ Go, give them all! + + _Gaina._ All, mistress? Not---- + + _Ard._ Go, go! + + [_Exit Gaina. Bertrand enters, left. He is in princely costume_] + + _Ber._ Art found, my heaven? + + _Ard._ Thou'st not a fear thy Heaven + Is lost in me? + + _Ber._ A doubt were my soul's shame. + [_Points up the heights_] + Does not yon giant cross arise to say + Christ reigns on Kidmir? Far as Suli plain + Men see the sun upon its silver sides + And hands upborne in prayer forget the sword + That sleeps unwakened. + + _Ard._ Will it sleep for long? + + _Ber._ Ay, else your father's death were devils' sport, + Not Heaven's will. + + _Ard._ What word to-day from Oswald? + + _Ber._ You name him? + + _Ard._ Is he not our father? + + _Ber._ O, + God's angel thou, not mine! + + _Ard._ Does Biondel + Now wear the crown of Ilon? + + _Ber._ That's confirmed. + And Vigard has Ramoor. + + _Ard._ They profit much + By their new faith. + + _Ber._ Do they not spare my life? + So Oswald gives these crowns. You think he pays + Too dear? + + _Ard._ O, barest alms! I'd have the earth. + No less,--then want the sun,--ay, circling heaven, + And yet be beggared losing thee! But they + Must wear their purple o'er a Christian heart. + I would not doubt ... and yet.... + + _Ber._ They are the sons + Of Charilus. + + _Ard._ And Banissat? + + _Ber._ He vows + An endless peace with Suli. + + _Ard._ And you are Suli. + Why am I fearful, knowing doubt is death? + + _Ber._ Come, love, look down--nay, farther, toward the sea. + That sprawling mass that darkens now the plain, + Seeming to hugely breathe and cloud-like move, + Is Oswald's army making feast to-day, + For I, the prince, go wiving. Now I seem + To hear our names joined high in Heaven's air. + And Christ, too, listens smiling, knowing one land, + One throne is his forever. Sweet, 'twas he + Drew me from sheltered cell and flowered garth + To be his sovereign servant. He it was + Who called through you, who cried in Charilus' death + To wake my soul that shall not sleep again + Till Love has garnered all these eastern lands. + + _Ard._ Amen, my husband-knight! I am content + To be your love next Christ. Within your heart. + 'Twill be sweet, gleaning where he walks before. + + _Ber._ These words be your sole dower, for they hold + More sun for me than shining gold! + + _Ard._ The guests! + Do you not hear them? Leave me now, my lord. + + _Ber._ Thank patience and my stars, we reach the end + Of these stale ceremonies! Seven days + Of long, superfluous rites to make you mine + When our first kiss did wed us! + + _Ard._ [_Mocking_] So ungentle + To your proud honors, sir? Nay, it is fit + Your wedding be as famous as your name, + O, Prince of Suli! + [_Voices heard, left_] + Go, to come again! + + [_Exit Bertrand, right. Ardia turns to enter her room and faces Vigard + who comes on left. She draws her veil_] + + _Vig._ Stay, sister. + + _Ard._ Would you have me seen? + + _Vig._ [_Throws back her veil_] Art fair + Again? As Kidmir skies! + + _Ard._ It is my joy. + + [_Enter left, Biondel, Banissat, and lords. Banissat pauses. The others + pass off, right_] + + _Vig._ [_Taking Ardia'a hand to detain her_] + We have surprised our sister. + + _Ban._ Blest the hour! + Now may I lay this gift within her hand-- + Poor gift, that has no worth until that hand + Caresses it to splendor. + + [_Kneels, offering her a small packet_] + + _Ard._ [_Taking packet_] Courteous prince, + My thanks. And more than thanks that you should climb + Kidmir's uneasy steep to dearly grace + This day--for smiles of friends, more than fair gifts, + Do best adorn my bridal. [_Draws her veil and moves right_] + + _Ban._ Night is come. + And through her mist the stars! [_Exit Ardia_] + + _Vig._ Her bloom is washed + Somewhat with tears for Charilus, but she + Will flower again. + + _Ban._ Now by the Prophet's soul + He who has kissed her lips had better've kissed + A flame of hell than so have touched + What shall be mine! + + _Vig._ As thou dost love revenge, + Be patient. + + _Ban._ Patience to the ox, to beasts + That dream 'twixt cud and whip! Am I not man? + + _Vig._ You have endured, by truth. + + _Ban._ Endured! + + _Vig._ And now + Revenge! Ere night yon braggart cross shall bear + A burden that will start Earl Oswald's eyes + When he looks up from Suli plain. + + _Ban._ This day + Shall see it! Come, once more let us look down. + See where the hosts of Allah charge upon + The sottish infidel! All yet is well. + The banner o'er Avesta signals still + The Prophet wins! + + _Vig._ And when the tower of Suli + Gleams with the hoisted crescent, we shall know + Oswald is taken. + + _Ban._ Ha! There's no way out! + The powers of Ilon, Avesta, and Ramoor, + Pen him in bloody triangle. Old rat, + You're in the trap! I should be there, not here,-- + There at his throat---- + + _Vig._ Nay, here, my lord, you'll have + Your dearest triumph. Please you now, go in. + I'll watch here for the sign. + + _Ban._ Your watch be short. + + [_Exit, right. Re-enter Ardia_] + + _Ard._ [_Holding out a flaming ornament_] Brother, see this! + The jewel of the house + Of Banissat. 'Tis sacred to his name. + I cannot take it, and he dare not give it. + + _Vig._ It seems he dared. + + _Ard._ What does he mean, dear Vigard? + + _Vig._ To honor Suli's princess as most fit. + + _Ard._ I tremble still from his deep look of fire, + And when I saw this burn methought his eye + Was yet upon me. + + _Vig._ Fool, go to your maidens! + + [_Enter Barca, left, with Ramunin_] + + _Vig._ You're late, my man. + + _Ram._ And yet in season, sir. [_Points up the heights_] + The cross is bare. + + _Vig._ Get you within. + [_Exeunt Barca and Ramunin, left_] + Now, sister-- + What, do you faint? + + _Ard._ That face! Ramunin's face. + I saw it once, and shuddered many a day + Remembering it. The public crucifier, + Who serves the bloody prince of Antioch. + The same. What does he here upon this day + Of all the days of time? + + _Vig._ 'Tis by your wish + That Kidmir gates are open. + + _Ard._ And by yours. + + _Vig._ Ay, let the world be witness you are made + The honored bride of Suli. + + _Ard._ But Ramunin? + He said the cross was bare. Why such a jest + As horrid as his life? [_Looking out_] And all the knights + That were to come from Oswald--where are they? + + _Vig._ They drank too deep last night for journeying + Up Kidmir road--or else they dare not cross + This outraged portal. + + _Ard._ Have we not forgiven? + Ah, what is there? Look, Vigard, do you see? + A floating crescent! + + _Vig._ Where? + + _Ard._ O'er Suli tower. + O, this is Oswald's greeting to our house, + Better than any band of armèd knights! + He lifts the Prophet's banner to his towers, + Even as you set the Savior's crucifix + On Kidmir! Now the one eternal God + Lives in his sign when cross and crescent smile + Love-set in the same heaven! + + _Vig._ Allah be praised! + + _Ard._ And Christ--forget not Christ! + + _Vig._ We'll make an end now. + [_Exit, right_] + + _Ard._ An end? Am I a bride--or sacrifice? + + [_Goes in, right, at sound of approaching music. Enter, left, young + musicians playing flutes and harps. They pause before altar, + cross to right and seat themselves about Ardia's door. Guests + enter, filling rear of hall, and parapet. A maiden comes on, + dancing the grain-dance and scattering sesame. At the close of + dance, Ardia's maidens enter, each bearing a lighted candle + which she places on the altar. A Greek chant is heard as priest + approaches left. All wait his entrance, and the curtain falls, + rising again on the close of the ceremony. Bertrand and Ardia + stand centre. An aged priest at altar. Biondel and Banissat + conspicuous among the guests. Vigard not seen_] + + _Bion._ Is all now done? + + _Priest._ All's done. The spouse of Suli + May bow herself unto her master's feet, + Bespeaking so the love that has no wish + But service, no desire save her lord's will. + + [_As Ardia would kneel, Bertrand prevents her_] + + _Ber._ You shall not kneel. + + _Ard._ 'Tis custom, dear my lord. + + _Ber._ Then here it dies. + + _Ard._ My mother did so much + For him who made her wife. + + _Ber._ Thy knees shall bend + To God, and to none less. Reign at my side, + Princess of Suli, not my feet. + + _Bion._ We hail + The bride of Suli! + + _Guests._ Bride of Suli, hail! + + _Vig._ [_Unseen_] Ho! Seize the traitor! Ho! + + [_Enter Ramunin, right, and armed guards_] + + _Ber._ Who speaks? And who + Is traitor here? + + _Vig._ Thou, foulest murderer! + + _Ber._ Who speaks? + + _Vig._ Dead Charilus. + + _Ard._ 'Tis Vigard's voice. + [_Vigard steps forth_] + What, Vigard, art thou mad? Wouldst shatter the globe + Of Heaven? + + _Vig._ Nay, it was broken that same hour + When died our father. + + _Ber._ Son of Charilus, speak + Your will. If you demand my life, 'tis yours. + I hold it by your gentle lease and love. + But while I ask not one poor breath for me, + I beg you pause, nor cast the innocent + To feed the vengeful and life-reaping fire + Oswald will kindle for his hapless son. + + _Vig._ You think no fires will burn but of his kindling? + + _Ard._ O shame! The crescent over Suli greets + The cross on Kidmir! + + _Vig._ Ay, the crescent flies + From Suli, thanks to faithful Moslem hands + That set it there. + + _Ard._ Ah.... Moslem hands? + + _Vig._ You fool, + To think that Oswald fluttered compliments, + When he was dreaming how he'd bid you drink + Of that same cup he gave to Charilus! + + _Ban._ Now, dearest lady, you are safe. To-day + The Faithful battled with the infidel, + And that bright crescent is the silent sign + We have the victory. Ramoor and Ilon + With pointed sword bore down on either side + The glutted, drunken army, while in front + Avesta like a whirlwind swept---- + + _Ard._ O, traitor! + You vowed unbroken peace with Suli! + + _Ban._ Yea, + Will keep it too, for I am Suli now. + + _Ard._ [_To her brothers_] Were you not sworn to Christ? + + _Bion._ We are the Prophet's. + + _Ard._ O, Heaven, hear not this! And Oswald's knights? + + _Vig._ Sleep in Avesta's dungeons. + + _Bion._ Banissat, + Avesta's golden prince, speak you the doom + Of Bertrand---- + + _Ard._ Doom? O---- + + _Ber._ Do not waste the breath + A kiss may save. A thousand times, your lips! + + _Ard._ [_To Biondel_] Let him not die! + + _Vig._ You'll pray soon that he may! + Speak, noble prince. + + _Ban._ I, lord of conquered Suli, + Condemn the son of Oswald unto death + By crucifixion. Be his body nailed + Upon the cross now raised on Kidmir peak, + That Oswald may behold his groaning son, + And every Christian dog look up and see + How dies the Prophet's enemy. + [_To Ramunin_] Away! + Prick him with delicate tortures that yet leave + Him heart to heave his agony. Hear you! + If he live not three days upon the cross + Yourself shall hang beside him. + + _Ram._ I've a hand + Has had some practice, sir. + + _Ban._ We know it, fellow, + And therefore we employ you. + + _Ram._ I put the nails + In young Deobus, he who hung five days + 'Twixt heaven and earth, and to the fifth eve groaned + As he would pull his heart up. I've a medal + Struck by the city for it. + + _Ban._ I will match it, + If you match me the service. + + _Ram._ That I'll do. + These English have strong hearts--will suck at pain + As life were in her dugs. + + [_Exit Ramunin, guards, and Bertrand. Priest and guests follow. The + maidens huddle at door, right_] + + _Bion._ Sister, you stare + Too hardly on this grief. It is a woe + That Heaven smiles on, and the cure now waits + In Banissat's fair mercy. You shall be + His royal wife, and Suli's princess still. + + _Vig._ Speak to the prince. + + _Ban._ Nay, let her hear my vow. + O, star of Kidmir, dear and beautiful, + I'll set thee in a bosom that shall be + A tender heaven round thee. Beat to earth + Is murmurous suspicion, and again + You shine unto the world, swept free of taint + By noble marriage with most careful rites---- + + _Ard._ I doubt, I doubt! One part, one point, one rite, + Broken in act, left gaping and divided, + One half performed, one half left all undone, + Leaves me dishonored still. She is not widowed + Who was not wife---- + + _Vig._ All's done! What more canst wish? + + _Ard._ To lay my forehead on my husband's feet, + Which by the ancient custom of our house + Is maidhood's closing act, as 'tis the first + Of wifehood true. This thou wilt grant---- + + _Vig._ You're bound + By rites enough! + + _Bion._ Canst stand uncertain on + So slight a matter? + + _Ard._ Slight? Ah, you know naught + Of woman! Teach him, prince, that not a nick, + Or turn, or shade of custom would she spare + From this most holy ceremony. Wanting but + The smallest portion that gives leave to say + The measure lacks, she all her life will grieve, + Shed secret tears, and wear a blanchen face + When none knows why. + + _Bion._ You shall not move us. Peace! + + _Vig._ A brawling fancy! + + _Ard._ Avesta's prince, thou who + Shalt be my lord, if any lord of earth + Be mine again, wouldst have my love, or hate? + + _Ban._ Thy love, fair Ardia. + + _Ard._ Then I pray you, sir, + Move thy forbearance yet one farther step + And pluck this boon for me. 'Tis near thy hand, + And O, how small a thing for you to give, + But as the sun of all my days to me! + Without it I may die---- + + _Ban._ Speak not of death. So sweet + I'll shelter thee, Death's self must bloom + If he creep near thy bower. + + _Ard._ May I, my lord, + Keep honored place by thee when memory mocks + That place and honor? Grant me this, but this, + And here I swear if any act of man + May move a widowed heart, mine shall grow warm + To thee! + + _Ban._ Do you speak truth? + + _Ard._ Believe me, sir, + So dear a thing is this for which I sue, + That he who gives it must grow dear thereby; + And if he lift to him my prostrate life, + This gentle moment shall immortal be + And sweeten every hour we pass together. + Remembering this, my captive breast shall be + His free dominion, and my lips on his, + If they know warmth, shall take it from this cause, + This first dear tenderness. + + _Ban._ We'll please you, mistress. + Bring in the man again. + + [_Exit a guard_] + + _Vig._ I beg you, prince---- + + _Ban._ By Allah, she shall have her beggar wish, + For no more reason than she wishes it! + + _Vig._ It is her sickish humor, sir, to look + On him again. All this wild pother means + No more than that. + + _Ban._ No more? We'll please her then + For our good peace to come. + + _Bion._ A princely kindness. + + [_They talk together. Ardia crosses to altar_] + + _Ard._ Now one more miracle! God live in me, + And Christ direct my hand! + + _Bion._ What do you say, + My sister? + + _Ard._ But a word to mine own heart. + + _Ban._ Nay, mine now, is it not? + + _Ard._ So much of it + As dearest lenience may buy, my lord. + + [_Bertrand is brought in guarded_] + + _Bion._ The man is here. Now have your foolish will. + + [_Ardia turns and looks at Bertrand. He is stripped of his rich dress + and wears only a girdled tunic falling to his knees. Arms and + feet are bare_] + + _Ban._ [_To Bertrand_] Sir, we permit the lady of our soul + To end as her heart wills the rite that makes + Her wife and widow. Touch her not, nor speak. + + [_Bertrand crosses to altar_] + + _Ard._ Why should we touch, when souls inhabit eyes + And journey on a look? My heaven-lord, + Here is no priest to bless this act of mine, + But God will know his altar and the gift + I lay upon it. The life we thought to live-- + That might have failed, and killed the dream now safe + From tarnish of the days. Earth has enough + Of blind and baffled lives, but great her need + Of dreams. And ours we leave with her, unworn, + Unpaled, warm round the love-seed she shall nurse + To million-budded life. + + _Bion._ Come, make an end! + + _Ard._ An end of love? The God of all the worlds + Cannot do that. Love born this darkest day + Shall be in flower on man's millennial path + And touch his step with Heaven. + + _Vig._ Peace! Be done! + + _Ard._ Ay ... done. My lord, think thou art in the world + Celestial, and from there smile on me--now-- + [_Draws dagger from her bosom and stabs him. He falls_] + High God, as thou art Love, I struck for thee! + [_Bends over body_] + True aim. Full in the heart. I know the place, + For there my home is--there I live--and now + My house is down, I, too, must fall---- + + _Ban._ I'll pay thee! + What hast thou done? + + _Ard._ What done? A miracle! + Who now can harm my love? + + _Ban._ Your promises! + Your oaths! + + _Ard._ I'd keep them, sir--ay, every one, + If grief would let me live to be your wife. + But I am weary, and my heavy stars + Have left their skies to hang upon me here. + My veins are empty, all their strength is out. + Does 't take so much to lift this little blade + And let it fall again? + [_Biondel takes the dagger from her_] + Think you I need + So poor a thing? Nay, God has struck for me, + As I for Him. I go with Vairdelan. [_Kneels by body_] + Look on this brow, if shame will let ye look. + An angel shaped it. Ye've unfashioned here + The work of Heaven. Sweet lips, no roses left? + Your hand, my lord, and now the sinless star. [_Dies_] + + [_Curtain_] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mortal Gods and Other Plays, by +Olive Tilford Dargan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MORTAL GODS AND OTHER PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 39708-8.txt or 39708-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/0/39708/ + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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