The. [Coming out] You here, Methone? Attend the lady Nauresta.
I fear your pleasure and your duty lie
Too far apart. [Exit Methone, right]
Ocrastes, come! My love!
Fair clos?d flowers that wait the royal dawn
Ere they will sport with beauty's open face
Are as my heart that caseth up its joy
To wait thy voice.
[The day darkens to dusk. Theano looks into the garden, suddenly eager]
He's coming! No, he stops
To talk with Brentio. How close they whisper!
What is 't he gives the slave? For shame, bold eyes,
To spy upon a lord so true! What was 't
Phillistus said? No matter. It was false.
[She moves aside as Brentio crosses to palace]
Bren. [Jingling coins] O sweet, sweet gold! Art mine—all mine—my love?
And will I do it? Ay! I'd sell my soul
To such a brave paymaster.
Oc. [Coming on right, not seeing Theano]
Vile, too vile!
Let me not think of it.
Oc. Ah,
My never-setting star!
The. But you are troubled.
Hast news?
Oc. Rumors, my girl. They're in the air
Like floating poisons. O that Syracuse
Had one man in 't!
The. Look in my eyes and see him.
Oc. One sword in one right hand!
Oc. I see a dallying, damn?d temporizer,
Who stops to count the threatening dragon's teeth
Ere reaving him of head.
The. My love, what is it?
Oc. Still Dion lingers, playing the game of wits
In idle Athens, while scandal eats his name——
The. Speusippus says he comes.
Oc. Too late he comes
That should be here already.
The. Dear my love,
He is not young as you, and years are cautious.
While age makes ready to resent affront
The blows of youth are given and forgot.
Oc. Ah, my Theano, I've but one place of peace—
Nay, I've not that—your pity-housing bosom.
Though ?olus' thirty sons made centre round me,
There should I rest as on a summer cloud
Rose-covered by the toil of flying doves
To keep off heaven's tears. And you deny it!
The. Hear him not,
O patient Heaven!
The. Not while my mother lives to suffer for it.
Oc. My love, as nature runs, she must die first.
Forgive my rudest tongue—but will you then—
When so she goes—bring all this heart to me?
I'm tortured lest her bitter will against me
Should reach back from the tomb.
The. Ah, my beloved,
The wounds we give the dead must fall unfelt.
Then why should senseless graves wound life? Ay, then—
Unhappy happy then—I'll be all yours.
Meth. Mistress Theano, your mother is strangely ill.
I pray you, come.
The. O me, my fatal word!
Oc. Nay, 'twas our watchful star moved me to urge it.
Let me go with you, love, and strive once more
To win the picket of her bluff regard.
The. Not now. Wait here until I come again. [Exit Theano]
Oc. The silken bud that holds a treasured world
Uncaskets nothing in the hour of bloom,
But fans the air with its own waste of leaves.
Even so my hope, that with the swelling year
Pressed to a summer crown, unfolds on naught
And prodigal of self to naught is come.
[Goes into garden. Stars appear in the sky visible beyond columns, rear. Servants come out of the palace and set lights about the court. Enter Aratea and Aristocles from palace, front. They cross to rear and sit between two of the columns]
Ara. Aristocles—my Dion's friend and mine—
rest upon your soul and feel encirqued
By silent potence, like the quietude
Of heaven when gods are still,—when prayers come not,
And enters no desire. So strange—this peace.
My infant eyes oped on a shaking isle,
And I was cradled in my father's wars.
O soon, too soon, I knew woe's touch of death!
But these are living days—days to be wreathed
With memory's stars, and circled new each morn
With pearls iridian from regretful eyes
That they—such days—can pass.
Aris. Eternity
Looked once upon the world, where lingers yet
Some brightness of her eye that we call Time.
Can aught so fleet hold value of thy tear?
Thou who hast the immortal heritage?
Ara. I can not say. Your mind in heaven sleeps,
And by the day you but recall your dreams;
While I, my lord, couch not so gloriously,
And from the earth must speak.
Aris. O, not from earth——
Ara. [To Ocrastes] Will you not sit with us?
[Lies down on one of the long seats]
I know you talk of Dion, and one who loves him
Brings no intrusive ear,—or if it is,
'Tis deaf with weariness.
Ara. [To Aristocles] He's tempest-racked
Between his love and friend. Ay, me, the world!
Aris. I'll leave you now. No more of my poor thoughts.
You're wearied with long listening. [Rises]
Ara. O, sir,
Your thoughts are flowers and your words their fragrance;
I do not hear but breathe them. Pray you, stay!
[He slowly resumes his seat. She looks silently at the sky. He writes on tablet]
Ara. Aristocles, thou wilt be god of gods
When thou 'rt among those stars; but now, O friend,
Come nearer earth. Be mortal for my sake.
I'm fearful when you're gone, or when your soul
Keeps court so far above me.
Ara. What you have written there?
Aris. No—no—'tis nothing.
Ara. Ah, do not read to-night. I am so lonely
That even with a book I would not share thee,
Though it should tempt with the most wondrous hap
Of bard or lover caught in liquid line.
You've travelled much; tell me an Egypt tale.
I'm weary of nymphs, and piping shepherd songs,
And the ever-wrangling gods of blue Olympus.
Aris. Then hear the tale of Isis as 'tis told
By the prophet-cradling Nile when Lotus buds
Upbreathing blow new seasons of old dreams.
Not e'en our Venus, dove-led, invisible,
More softly moves to Paphos wood than she
O'er sleeping earth. Her wings lead on the light,
And when she lifts them dawn awakes.
Aris. She seeks her brother, self-created, slain
By his own pride, for he was God of All.
Her tears, like weeping music, sweeten earth,
Nor rests she till she finds him.
Aris. And then—none knows how hid in solitude
She suckles death with life till he new rises
The God of All, too great for pride, too just
For death; the sire of Beauty, breathing Life
Through Love,—soul of the nurturing sun—
The mother-breast of fields—the parent thrill
Of birds, of trees, of flowers—of all that makes
Most sweet the fair world's mortal pageantry,—
Yea of the eternal, vital glow that throbs
Within humanity's deep-rubied heart.
So runs the myth, dear Aratea.
Ara. Ah!
How runs the rubric of thy thought that sets
The symbol plain? Read that to me, I pray thee.
Aris. The lonely mind may not uprafter stars,
And vain, adventurous man who of himself
Createth Heaven must see it fall. Then doth
The woman spirit, girdle of the worlds,
Above the ruins cry,—his mate forgot
Who from his flesh by love's divinity
Calls forth the beauteous eternities
To star the globe of life.
Oc. [Rising] Which is to say,
As simple people speak in Sicily,
A man must wed!
Ara. Ocrastes, talk not so!
Like stars that may not range below the zenith,
His meaning keeps the orbit of high thought,
And will not dwell in gross and simple words.
Oc. Ho, mistress Dion, you too would like to spin
Your cobwebs round the moon! [To Aristocles] Get you to Athens,
While you may say to Dion she is true!
[Aristocles tries to speak]
O, ay, I know what you would say, my lord.
You would not love Aurora though she dropped
Her morning mantle at your feet and blushed
Herself revestured. No! But Aratea!
She has a human heart,—eyes that can fill
With tears,—soft hands that love the thing they touch,—
A body that might be the ivory cup
Delight doth use to dip and measure out
The rose-flood of her pleasure. Go, I say!
Take to the sea, and leave no track my sword
May follow. [Rushes into garden]
Ara. Sir, forgive his madness! Ah,
He is distracted by these wrongs to Dion.
I have not told you, friend, that Dionysius
To-day seized all possessions of my lord,
And stopped all moneys to him. In this deed
Ocrastes reads the preface to new woes,
Which shakes his mind's security and gives
A living color to his fantasies.
[Aristocles stands gazing out, not showing his face]
But Heaven and I know your white soul, my lord——
[Enter Callorus, from palace, larger entrance, with guards]
Callo. Your pardon, worthy sage and fairest lady.
I come from Dionysius, whose care
Has bared a plot against Aristocles,
Whom he for safety bids repair at once
To the castle fort, where he must rest to-night
In sure protection of the royal guards.
Ara. The guards? The royal guards?
Callo. You will make haste,
My lord? Before the people move against you.
Hearing that Dion has set sail with troops
To level Syracuse, they think 'tis by
Your aid and counsel. Pray you, lose no time.
Aris. I'll go with you, Callorus. Not from fear,
But to keep riot down that else might shake
The city's peace. [To Aratea] Farewell.
[Exeunt Aristocles, Callorus and guards, by street]
Ara. Farewell? I could not speak.
The tyrant's guards! They hate Aristocles.
My fears have now a shape and short will show
Their foulest face. I must take means at once
To learn the truth. My careful Dionysius,
I will be vigilant too.
[Turns to go in. Picks up a bit of paper]
'Tis what he wrote
And said 'twas nothing. O,—a pretty rhyme!
Thine eyes are on the stars, my Star!
Would I might be
That heaven far
With thousand eyes on thee!
He is a poet. Ay, 'tis but a rhyme.
And yet—'tis very pretty—I will keep it.
[Re-enter Ocrastes from garden. He approaches Aratea as if he would speak, but she hurries into palace, entrance front, without seeing him. He retires in gloom as Dionysius and a train of lords come out of palace, large entrance, rear]
Diony. Come, friends! Now is the sweetest garden hour,
When day's dust-foul?d trail is passed, and night
Has not yet donned her moist and heavy cloak.
Here let us wait the lords. We've summoned all
Of golden purse and of right noble line.
Now that we've stopped all revenues to Dion,
And this night give our sister to a husband
Of our own choosing——
Diony. Ha! You, Ocrastes? Know to whom you speak!
Oc. My lord, you would not dare——
Diony. Not dare? That word
Is strange to me. Will some good scholar here
Tell me its meaning?
Oc. Pardon, mighty lord.
I sought to warn you that the wife of Dion——
Diony. Your blood moves hotly off in Dion's cause,
And warning from our chief suspected foe——
Oc. This arm has fought your battles, sir!
Diony. Ay, so.
Would we might rank your famous valiancy
Once more with us, but while we doubt your heart
You are our enemy.
Oc. What proof, my lord——
Diony. We'll find it soon enough. Till then have care,
And dainty walk 'tween wolf and precipice!
[Dionysius and lords go into garden]
Oc. No cry this wrong would give the sea new tongue,
And mend the winds with utterance! But now
No time for sighs and groans. The tyrant's brow
Is hung with murder's cloud. I must be quick
Or lose the breath ties me to upper earth.
Action must take the vantage now of thought,
And reason follow after.
[Re-enter Theano, from palace]
The. I was long.
... She's better now, and quiet.
Oc. Fie, does she yet live?
Oc. All women now should die.
Oc. Do not stare. Thine eyes are not
The only home of agony. Farewell!
The. Farewell? No, no! [Clinging to him]
You'll tell me first! What is it?
Will you not trust me?
Oc. 'Tis thy trust I want.
Oc. Swear!
Thy trust! Thy perfect trust!
The. 'Tis thine. I swear it.
Oc. Though fiends of doubt hail thee on every side,
Venting their slander from the mouth of winds.
Yet wilt thou trust me?
The. Ay, my lord, I will!
[Lords begin to enter from the garden]
Oc. Once more to-night I'll see thee. Go!
[Theano goes into palace. Dionysius comes from garden. Ocrastes moves aside and stands in shadow]
Diony. 'Tis time our sister should be told
Our happy purpose.
[Aratea re-enters, and hastens across to Dionysius]
Ara. My brother,
I came to seek you. Lord Aristocles——
Diony. Ay, troubles press upon us, dearest sister,
And much is trembling in adventure's hand.
Now do we need your husband's strength to meet
Ill fortune's tide.
Ara. Then you have sent for Dion?
O, you forgive!
Diony. Speak not that traitor's name!
He is the foe 'gainst whom I must go forth.
You are to wed a lord whose might shall be
My own. To-night! Dost hear?
Diony. And art not pleased? No thanks that I provide
For your forsaken state? Now, now! One word.
Stand not so fixed, as I had ordered you
To instant death.
Ara. You make me marble, sir.
Unloose my soul's locked torture with the key
Of one retracting word, or I must seek
In kinder stone my sole relief from pain.
O, say it is not so! This is a jest
Will make you weep when you——
Diony. Jesting to fools!
Not thron?d skies can change what we've determined.
This rebel brow shocks my fond heart that toils
In your ungracious service. Come, my friends.
All to the council hall! With me, my sister.
Ara. O, brother, not one moment to look back
And say farewell to Heaven? Not one to gaze
Into the darkness ere I plunge to hell?
Diony. And let the hour 'tween my intent and deed
Lay meddling finger on my purpose? Nay,
You know me better, madam. On my lords!
Delay's the whetstone sharpens best the blades
Of enemies.
Ara. Go, sir! I am myself.
I will not move. If you will tear me hence,
And drag your father's daughter at your feet,
Then you may take me to the council hall.
Diony. Your pleasure, sister. Here we'll hold our court.
Go, Clitus, to the steps and turn all hither.
Ara. Art thou my brother, Dionysius? Nay!
We are of different mothers. Now I know
We are of different fathers, too.
Diony. You dare!
Silence thy slanderous tongue!
Ara. I say thou 'rt not
My royal father's son!
Diony. His sword is mine!
[Seizes her in a rage, threatening her with his weapon; then slowly releases her and she sinks to bench by pillar of the colonnade. Lords assemble, some talking excitedly but in undertone, others cool and scoffing. Speusippus and friends enter, taking inconspicuous place. Ocrastes keeps in shade, motionless and unnoticed.]
A lord. Ha, Calisthenes, you need not come to bite at this bait. 'Tis a dainty morsel and only goldfish are allowed to nibble.
An old lord. I mislike this marriage. 'Twill bring us woe, let it reach Dion's ears.
Another. Ay, wars beyond our guess will come of it.
Young lord. The admiral against ?gisthus!
Second young lord. Heraclides? He is much wived already.
Third young lord. The easier to take another.
Second young lord. ?gisthus bids most fair. I take you.
Diony. My friends, would that I had for each of you
So fair a sister, and were not thus forced
To choose among you. Who is first to speak?
Her. I pray this gift, my lord.
Diony. Brave admiral,
You would stand high, perhaps the highest with us,
Were't not that old wives make new enemies.
Icetes. I'm free to give my undivided heart.
Diony. But, good Icetes, age is creeping on you.
We want a fighting arm as well as heart.
Who else? No voice? Must we then hawk her up?
Look on her, gentlemen! Even tears may not
Disfigure her. This fit of sorrow past
You'll see her smile again, those wondrous smiles
You've longed in secret to make all your own.
A week, a day, will put some spirit in her.
Ara. [Rising] To you, my lords of Syracuse! Think not
To wed the wife of Dion as she stands.
You'll pluck no rose in me. This face I'll sere
With constant travelling tears, till Beauty here
Shall search in vain for memory of herself.
My wealth I'll fling upon the air to birds
And beggars. Ay, my palace shall take wings!
My costly robes I'll cast into the street
That common women may adorn themselves.
I am no princess. I refuse the name
Of aught that makes me sister to that wretch.
Go seek some linen washer by a brook
And find a wealthier and a prouder wife.
Diony. Spoke I not truth, my lords? You see how fast
Her spirit grows. Hear her sweet names for me?
Now we'll have bidders plenty. Thanks, my sister.
She'll sing, my lords, when once she's neatly caged.
Diony. 'Tis fit you both should speak
At once, for both alike sit in my favor.
?gisthus' lands are broad, but you, Callorus,
Have proved a mightier leader in the field,
And all in all you do deserve alike.
There's none may rank above you.
Oc. [Stepping out] One, my lord.
Callo. Let him come forth!
Diony. Who, sir? His name.
Diony. You're Dion's heart. You cast him off?
Oc. You ask
For proof? I take his wife. Were I to warm
My fingers in his blood, I'd have more hope
That he would rise and bless me than to keep
His love while she lies on my bosom.
Oc. I challenge any here to match my claim.
This is the sword, my lord, that held the city
Against the Tarentines when these brave nobles
Trembled behind their fast shut doors.
Oc. All know 'tis true. Since boasting now's a virtue,
I'll do it well. Who wore the laurel wreath
That saved all Sicily a spreading blush
The day the Carthaginian youths were sent
Defeated home? You ask for wealth? My vineyards
Run to the wilderness. My corn now greens
On ?tna's slope and yellows by the Gela.
My father's coffers are unopened yet,
And ships are sailing here will fill my own.
My slaves might meet an army, and I'll put
A sword in every hand for Syracuse.
In rank I bow to none. The blood of Pollis,
First king of Syracuse, runs yet in me,
And even Dionysius' royal self
Yields to my line the birthright courtesy.
Diony. Enough. Now Dion's cause falls down. Enough!
Come to our heart, Ocrastes! There's not one
We'd rather win to us.
Speu. [Aside] O, Dion, now all
Forsake thee but calamity, that like
A covetous ill wife hangs on thy fortune!
Diony. By Pluto, no more fear! Our throne is safe!
Oc. Pray be warned by one
Who knows too well your need. Not all the troops
Of broadest Sicily may keep you safe
When Dion comes from Greece. Men swarm to him
As he were golden Saturn giving off
New fortunes with each breath. Send me with speed
To Italy. There I have friends shall be
Your own, and pour a fleet into your harbor
Will turn lord Dion pale when next his eye
Scans Syracusan waters.
Diony. Italy?
We'll think of it. You're the true warrior stuff,
Planning campaigns with the same breath you win
A royal bride. We like you better for it,
But she may like you less. Give her a word.
