ACT II

Tich.[Aside, noting Aristocles' groan]Ho, for ill that's past and ill that is to come, philosophy has ever a saw, but in a present pinch speaks not for groaning!... My lord, the lady Aratea asks for word with you.Aris.[Hesitating]Tell her ... I come.[Curtain]

Aris.[Hesitating]Tell her ... I come.

[Curtain]

Scene 1.An outer court, Dioniysius' palace. Two entrances to palace on the right. Columns rear. Sea and sky seen between them. Behind columns a street. At left a garden. Speusippus and lords pass from street toward garden.

Speu.Dion, my lords, has gathered friends in Athens,And waits your invitation to set sailWith power for your relief. Six circled moonsHave risen from the sea since he was banishedAnd you are dumb as you were staring yetUpon the marvel of his taking off.First lord.What is his life with you?Speu.He walks a markFor Athens' eye,—a breathing virtue, sir,Making the good in other men stand stillTo gaze at what in him is better.Second lord.ThisIs his true color.Speu.True? By Pallas, sir,Apollo purges not more ardentlyThe earth of humors than he iniquityFrom man and state! Divinity has madeHis heart her brooding place to bring forth deedsSo like her own complexion that men readThe book of Heaven in them and grow wiseWithout the aid of schools.First lord.We know our loss.Third lord.The tyrant sends him his great revenues.Speu.Which Dion casts like sweet and general rainOn parching poverty. His charityIs a perpetual summer where bruised meritLifteth in flower.Second lord.So was it here.Speu.And youCould have him home had you some brave Greek bloodAt heart. Please you, I've heard a shepherdessCombed wool on Dardan plain when Troy was burningMethinks Sicilian sires bred from that dame.First lord.By Zeus, this is bold rating.Second lord.'Tis our due.'Twixt caution's pause and the delay of shameLies but one step, and Syracuse is on it.Courage grows agued and hunches at the hearthForefearing enterprise.Speu.Can you be still?Third lord.No more, my lord. Here's Dionysius.[They move into garden as Dionysius enters from street with Aristocles and other lords, and turns toward palace]First lord.He's well attended.Second lord.Ay, let tattered viceStep out o' door and contemnation hootsIt home again, while silken viciousnessMay march as 't will 'tween meek uncovered polls,With Flattery's footmen running neck and neckTo open any gate.First lord.True! true!Speu.Talk! talk!A sword's the tongue for me!Third lord.The tyrant speaks.Hark, friends!Diony.Aristocles, excepting theeNo man alive might teach me hate myself.Say what thou wilt, I'll love thee!Third lord.Fair enough.Second lord.Fair in the flower, but no fruit, my lord.The fragrance sickens. A sound wholesome deedWere pungent sniffing!Aris.Sir, upon the soilOf this fair courtesy I'd lodge a seedMight bloom with Dion's pardon.Diony.Pardon Dion!By Delos' horned altar, no! My tongueCompound my own destruction?Aris.Sir, your tongueIs bound to you, but I could wish it hadA wiser master.Diony.Roast me in the bullOf Phalaris, if I be such a fool!Thou know'st that he conspired against me!Aris.Nay——Diony.With honey breath you steal into my heartBut to betray it!Aris.I pray your leave to sailFrom Sicily. Greece hath a place for meAbove insult.Diony.Go when you will. To-day!Our admiral shall bear you.[To Heraclides]Hear you, sir?Choose out your ship. Aristocles, farewell.Talk not of me i' the Acad�me.Aris.My lord,The gods take care we've no such dearth of matter.Farewell.Diony.[As Aristocles turns to go]Dost mean it?Nay! Spoil not my jest.Canst take offence from one who loveth thee?In truth wouldst go?Aris.The winds that fan me henceWill be as welcome as the breeze that liftsThe sail of calm-bound mariners that longHave in mid-ocean rocked and dreamed of food.Diony.No, no, my friend! Thou shalt not go from me!Dost call thyself philosopher, and takeFirst chance to fly thy duty here? Hear you,Lord admiral. Watch every gate nor letThis bold man pass. Sink the Sicilian fleetEre you do spare a ship for hire or pityTo grant him sail and beggar me of friends,For all my friends are corporate now in him.[To Aristocles]Talk not of parting while you have my love.Cold yet? Go seek my sister. She will bringYour high look to sweet friendship's level. Go.Yours is the only tongue can draw her fromHer tearful reticence. Tell her the starsWill find me with her. I have news too newFor pale indifference. 'Twill rouse her wrathOr pleasure.[Speusippus and companions pass from garden to streetand off left]Ha, what Greekish stranger there?Phil.Speusippus, sir.Diony.Methought his acid lookHad turned my purple cloak a pauperish yellow.Phil.Aristocles best knows him. An Athenian.Aris.[Who is slowly going into palace by smaller entrance,front, turns]And worthy of his birth. He is my friend,And brings me Dion's love.Diony.That name again!... Well, thou 'rt my soul.[Aristocles goes into palace. Dionysius turns to larger entrance rear]Phil.[Detaining Heraclides]A word with you, my lord.[Dionysius and attendants enter palace]Her.What's urgent, friend?Phil.Marked you Speusippus?Her.Ay.Phil.He comes to stir a war in Dion's name.Already there's a rumbling 'mong the peopleThat warns us to be swift.Her.My fears have caught it.Phil.The tyrant's mood is ripe. See how he lovesAnd hates Aristocles? This is the hourTo move him to the Athenian's death.Her.You're right.When friendship oars 'tween choler and regard,A crafty hand may steer which wish�d waySets wind of secret business, and heThat rides be none the wiser.Phil.The AthenianRemoved, then Dionysius is our own.Her.Well have short need of him. The tyrant's guardsAre envious of the Greek to murder's pitch,Because he counsels DionysiusTo cast them off and rule by love alone.The captain stands our friend, his sword aloftTo fall as turns the hair.Phil.The guards must do 't.The people hold them privileged in humors,And say not yea or nay to them. But doesCallorus join us?Her.He yet hesitates.Phil.Then cease your suasion and to his easy stateClap screws will cramp. Pain is the oratorCan clinch his case and drive the question home.Her.You'll to �gisthus?Phil.Ay, though we've a difference.A trifle that his vanity may stand on.Her.Make your excuse, but study how you do it.Faults oft are none till clapped conspicuousWith an apology.Phil.I've learned of you.None has a tongue more apt to come at love'Neath what ill cover hides it. DionysiusI leave to you. My name use as 'twere yours.My sum of wisdom is to know your ownAnd trust you wholly.Her.That you may, Phillistus.My fame rests on this move.[Exit]Phil.Your fame, good sir,Has naught to do with what I close intend.By Victory's wings, I'll reach the top of power,Or from her golden ball knock Fortune's footAnd steer her course myself! Now to Nauresta.[Goes into palace, front entrance. Brentio, Tichus and Methone enter merrily from garden. Brentio carries a large harp. They sit on benches left]

Speu.Dion, my lords, has gathered friends in Athens,

And waits your invitation to set sail

With power for your relief. Six circled moons

Have risen from the sea since he was banished

And you are dumb as you were staring yet

Upon the marvel of his taking off.

First lord.What is his life with you?

Speu.He walks a markFor Athens' eye,—a breathing virtue, sir,Making the good in other men stand stillTo gaze at what in him is better.

Speu.He walks a mark

For Athens' eye,—a breathing virtue, sir,

Making the good in other men stand still

To gaze at what in him is better.

Second lord.ThisIs his true color.

Second lord.This

Is his true color.

Speu.True? By Pallas, sir,Apollo purges not more ardentlyThe earth of humors than he iniquityFrom man and state! Divinity has madeHis heart her brooding place to bring forth deedsSo like her own complexion that men readThe book of Heaven in them and grow wiseWithout the aid of schools.

Speu.True? By Pallas, sir,

Apollo purges not more ardently

The earth of humors than he iniquity

From man and state! Divinity has made

His heart her brooding place to bring forth deeds

So like her own complexion that men read

The book of Heaven in them and grow wise

Without the aid of schools.

First lord.We know our loss.

Third lord.The tyrant sends him his great revenues.

Speu.Which Dion casts like sweet and general rainOn parching poverty. His charityIs a perpetual summer where bruised meritLifteth in flower.

Speu.Which Dion casts like sweet and general rain

On parching poverty. His charity

Is a perpetual summer where bruised merit

Lifteth in flower.

Second lord.So was it here.

Speu.And youCould have him home had you some brave Greek bloodAt heart. Please you, I've heard a shepherdessCombed wool on Dardan plain when Troy was burningMethinks Sicilian sires bred from that dame.

Speu.And you

Could have him home had you some brave Greek blood

At heart. Please you, I've heard a shepherdess

Combed wool on Dardan plain when Troy was burning

Methinks Sicilian sires bred from that dame.

First lord.By Zeus, this is bold rating.

Second lord.'Tis our due.'Twixt caution's pause and the delay of shameLies but one step, and Syracuse is on it.Courage grows agued and hunches at the hearthForefearing enterprise.

Second lord.'Tis our due.

'Twixt caution's pause and the delay of shame

Lies but one step, and Syracuse is on it.

Courage grows agued and hunches at the hearth

Forefearing enterprise.

Speu.Can you be still?

Third lord.No more, my lord. Here's Dionysius.

[They move into garden as Dionysius enters from street with Aristocles and other lords, and turns toward palace]

First lord.He's well attended.

Second lord.Ay, let tattered viceStep out o' door and contemnation hootsIt home again, while silken viciousnessMay march as 't will 'tween meek uncovered polls,With Flattery's footmen running neck and neckTo open any gate.

Second lord.Ay, let tattered vice

Step out o' door and contemnation hoots

It home again, while silken viciousness

May march as 't will 'tween meek uncovered polls,

With Flattery's footmen running neck and neck

To open any gate.

First lord.True! true!

Speu.Talk! talk!A sword's the tongue for me!

Speu.Talk! talk!

A sword's the tongue for me!

Third lord.The tyrant speaks.Hark, friends!

Third lord.The tyrant speaks.

Hark, friends!

Diony.Aristocles, excepting theeNo man alive might teach me hate myself.Say what thou wilt, I'll love thee!

Diony.Aristocles, excepting thee

No man alive might teach me hate myself.

Say what thou wilt, I'll love thee!

Third lord.Fair enough.

Second lord.Fair in the flower, but no fruit, my lord.The fragrance sickens. A sound wholesome deedWere pungent sniffing!

Second lord.Fair in the flower, but no fruit, my lord.

The fragrance sickens. A sound wholesome deed

Were pungent sniffing!

Aris.Sir, upon the soilOf this fair courtesy I'd lodge a seedMight bloom with Dion's pardon.

Aris.Sir, upon the soil

Of this fair courtesy I'd lodge a seed

Might bloom with Dion's pardon.

Diony.Pardon Dion!By Delos' horned altar, no! My tongueCompound my own destruction?

Diony.Pardon Dion!

By Delos' horned altar, no! My tongue

Compound my own destruction?

Aris.Sir, your tongueIs bound to you, but I could wish it hadA wiser master.

Aris.Sir, your tongue

Is bound to you, but I could wish it had

A wiser master.

Diony.Roast me in the bullOf Phalaris, if I be such a fool!Thou know'st that he conspired against me!

Diony.Roast me in the bull

Of Phalaris, if I be such a fool!

Thou know'st that he conspired against me!

Aris.Nay——

Diony.With honey breath you steal into my heartBut to betray it!

Diony.With honey breath you steal into my heart

But to betray it!

Aris.I pray your leave to sailFrom Sicily. Greece hath a place for meAbove insult.

Aris.I pray your leave to sail

From Sicily. Greece hath a place for me

Above insult.

Diony.Go when you will. To-day!Our admiral shall bear you.[To Heraclides]Hear you, sir?Choose out your ship. Aristocles, farewell.Talk not of me i' the Acad�me.

Diony.Go when you will. To-day!

Our admiral shall bear you.

[To Heraclides]Hear you, sir?

Choose out your ship. Aristocles, farewell.

Talk not of me i' the Acad�me.

Aris.My lord,The gods take care we've no such dearth of matter.Farewell.

Aris.My lord,

The gods take care we've no such dearth of matter.

Farewell.

Diony.[As Aristocles turns to go]Dost mean it?Nay! Spoil not my jest.Canst take offence from one who loveth thee?In truth wouldst go?

Diony.[As Aristocles turns to go]Dost mean it?

Nay! Spoil not my jest.

Canst take offence from one who loveth thee?

In truth wouldst go?

Aris.The winds that fan me henceWill be as welcome as the breeze that liftsThe sail of calm-bound mariners that longHave in mid-ocean rocked and dreamed of food.

Aris.The winds that fan me hence

Will be as welcome as the breeze that lifts

The sail of calm-bound mariners that long

Have in mid-ocean rocked and dreamed of food.

Diony.No, no, my friend! Thou shalt not go from me!Dost call thyself philosopher, and takeFirst chance to fly thy duty here? Hear you,Lord admiral. Watch every gate nor letThis bold man pass. Sink the Sicilian fleetEre you do spare a ship for hire or pityTo grant him sail and beggar me of friends,For all my friends are corporate now in him.[To Aristocles]Talk not of parting while you have my love.Cold yet? Go seek my sister. She will bringYour high look to sweet friendship's level. Go.Yours is the only tongue can draw her fromHer tearful reticence. Tell her the starsWill find me with her. I have news too newFor pale indifference. 'Twill rouse her wrathOr pleasure.[Speusippus and companions pass from garden to streetand off left]Ha, what Greekish stranger there?

Diony.No, no, my friend! Thou shalt not go from me!

Dost call thyself philosopher, and take

First chance to fly thy duty here? Hear you,

Lord admiral. Watch every gate nor let

This bold man pass. Sink the Sicilian fleet

Ere you do spare a ship for hire or pity

To grant him sail and beggar me of friends,

For all my friends are corporate now in him.

[To Aristocles]Talk not of parting while you have my love.

Cold yet? Go seek my sister. She will bring

Your high look to sweet friendship's level. Go.

Yours is the only tongue can draw her from

Her tearful reticence. Tell her the stars

Will find me with her. I have news too new

For pale indifference. 'Twill rouse her wrath

Or pleasure.

[Speusippus and companions pass from garden to streetand off left]

Ha, what Greekish stranger there?

Phil.Speusippus, sir.

Diony.Methought his acid lookHad turned my purple cloak a pauperish yellow.

Diony.Methought his acid look

Had turned my purple cloak a pauperish yellow.

Phil.Aristocles best knows him. An Athenian.

Aris.[Who is slowly going into palace by smaller entrance,front, turns]And worthy of his birth. He is my friend,And brings me Dion's love.

Aris.[Who is slowly going into palace by smaller entrance,

front, turns]And worthy of his birth. He is my friend,

And brings me Dion's love.

Diony.That name again!... Well, thou 'rt my soul.

Diony.That name again!

... Well, thou 'rt my soul.

[Aristocles goes into palace. Dionysius turns to larger entrance rear]

Phil.[Detaining Heraclides]A word with you, my lord.

[Dionysius and attendants enter palace]

Her.What's urgent, friend?

Phil.Marked you Speusippus?

Her.Ay.

Phil.He comes to stir a war in Dion's name.Already there's a rumbling 'mong the peopleThat warns us to be swift.

Phil.He comes to stir a war in Dion's name.

Already there's a rumbling 'mong the people

That warns us to be swift.

Her.My fears have caught it.

Phil.The tyrant's mood is ripe. See how he lovesAnd hates Aristocles? This is the hourTo move him to the Athenian's death.

Phil.The tyrant's mood is ripe. See how he loves

And hates Aristocles? This is the hour

To move him to the Athenian's death.

Her.You're right.When friendship oars 'tween choler and regard,A crafty hand may steer which wish�d waySets wind of secret business, and heThat rides be none the wiser.

Her.You're right.

When friendship oars 'tween choler and regard,

A crafty hand may steer which wish�d way

Sets wind of secret business, and he

That rides be none the wiser.

Phil.The AthenianRemoved, then Dionysius is our own.

Phil.The Athenian

Removed, then Dionysius is our own.

Her.Well have short need of him. The tyrant's guardsAre envious of the Greek to murder's pitch,Because he counsels DionysiusTo cast them off and rule by love alone.The captain stands our friend, his sword aloftTo fall as turns the hair.

Her.Well have short need of him. The tyrant's guards

Are envious of the Greek to murder's pitch,

Because he counsels Dionysius

To cast them off and rule by love alone.

The captain stands our friend, his sword aloft

To fall as turns the hair.

Phil.The guards must do 't.The people hold them privileged in humors,And say not yea or nay to them. But doesCallorus join us?

Phil.The guards must do 't.

The people hold them privileged in humors,

And say not yea or nay to them. But does

Callorus join us?

Her.He yet hesitates.

Phil.Then cease your suasion and to his easy stateClap screws will cramp. Pain is the oratorCan clinch his case and drive the question home.

Phil.Then cease your suasion and to his easy state

Clap screws will cramp. Pain is the orator

Can clinch his case and drive the question home.

Her.You'll to �gisthus?

Phil.Ay, though we've a difference.A trifle that his vanity may stand on.

Phil.Ay, though we've a difference.

A trifle that his vanity may stand on.

Her.Make your excuse, but study how you do it.Faults oft are none till clapped conspicuousWith an apology.

Her.Make your excuse, but study how you do it.

Faults oft are none till clapped conspicuous

With an apology.

Phil.I've learned of you.None has a tongue more apt to come at love'Neath what ill cover hides it. DionysiusI leave to you. My name use as 'twere yours.My sum of wisdom is to know your ownAnd trust you wholly.

Phil.I've learned of you.

None has a tongue more apt to come at love

'Neath what ill cover hides it. Dionysius

I leave to you. My name use as 'twere yours.

My sum of wisdom is to know your own

And trust you wholly.

Her.That you may, Phillistus.My fame rests on this move.[Exit]

Her.That you may, Phillistus.

My fame rests on this move.[Exit]

Phil.Your fame, good sir,Has naught to do with what I close intend.By Victory's wings, I'll reach the top of power,Or from her golden ball knock Fortune's footAnd steer her course myself! Now to Nauresta.

Phil.Your fame, good sir,

Has naught to do with what I close intend.

By Victory's wings, I'll reach the top of power,

Or from her golden ball knock Fortune's foot

And steer her course myself! Now to Nauresta.

[Goes into palace, front entrance. Brentio, Tichus and Methone enter merrily from garden. Brentio carries a large harp. They sit on benches left]

Bren.These are merry days since Dionysius brought us to the palace. I would weep for my poor banished master, for they say a far country makes a weary foot, but there's so much laughing matter here—the singing and the rhyming, and the pretty wenches tripping your eyes up at every corner, that my tears are no more out than I've good reason to whip them in again.Meth.O Venus! There's no laughing here save of your dreaming. Dost see how the courtiers scowl? They say the scholars and philosophers leave them no dancing room in the palace; the halls are full of sand for the pleasure of the students that come to draw those foolish figures—plates, they call em——Tich.Geometry.Bren.That's your master's doing. Thank the wise man for that!Meth.It suits our mistresses well enough. They blink at a smile as an owlet at the sun. Troth, I've seen them weep so much that I feel wrapped in a fog with the vapor of their tears.Tich.But let us be merry. No more sad airs, my sweet Methone.Bren.[Aside]I like not this sugary possessive.... Play, my own sweetest Methone, and I'll sing you a song out of head.Meth.Pray you, sing it not out of feet too, for a limping line is past carrying.Bren.'Tis a song of you and will go fast enough, I warrant.Meth.[Scornfully]Of me?Bren.Nay, of your jewels!Meth.An you mock me, I'll——Bren.[Touching his lips]Your rubies [pointing to his eyes], your diamonds[grinning to show teeth], your pearls.Tich.You may sing that song when diamonds wink tears, rubies pucker for kisses, and pearls bite figs i' the morning.Bren.Well, I've a better one.[Sings]

Meth.O Venus! There's no laughing here save of your dreaming. Dost see how the courtiers scowl? They say the scholars and philosophers leave them no dancing room in the palace; the halls are full of sand for the pleasure of the students that come to draw those foolish figures—plates, they call em——

Tich.Geometry.

Bren.That's your master's doing. Thank the wise man for that!

Meth.It suits our mistresses well enough. They blink at a smile as an owlet at the sun. Troth, I've seen them weep so much that I feel wrapped in a fog with the vapor of their tears.

Tich.But let us be merry. No more sad airs, my sweet Methone.

Bren.[Aside]I like not this sugary possessive.... Play, my own sweetest Methone, and I'll sing you a song out of head.

Meth.Pray you, sing it not out of feet too, for a limping line is past carrying.

Bren.'Tis a song of you and will go fast enough, I warrant.

Meth.[Scornfully]Of me?

Bren.Nay, of your jewels!

Meth.An you mock me, I'll——

Bren.[Touching his lips]Your rubies [pointing to his eyes], your diamonds[grinning to show teeth], your pearls.

Tich.You may sing that song when diamonds wink tears, rubies pucker for kisses, and pearls bite figs i' the morning.

Bren.Well, I've a better one.[Sings]

Her voice is like the birds that wiveWhen blossoms swing in April trees,And from her bosom's honey hiveSighs come and go like bees.Her smile——

Her voice is like the birds that wive

When blossoms swing in April trees,

And from her bosom's honey hive

Sighs come and go like bees.

Her smile——

Meth.Nay, I'm no farm-house sweet for loutish Corydon! How would you sing me, master Tichus, were I in Athens where every maid is fair?Tich.With more truth and less boast.Meth.Your song, sir.[Tichus sings]

Meth.Nay, I'm no farm-house sweet for loutish Corydon! How would you sing me, master Tichus, were I in Athens where every maid is fair?

Tich.With more truth and less boast.

Meth.Your song, sir.

[Tichus sings]

Heigh-ho, my star of loveHas left its heaven high,And all the beauteous court above,To dwell in fair Methone's eye.And now, alas, unlucky bliss,It finds a home so brightThat all its beauty buried isWithin that fairer, cruel light.No more, no more it shines for meBut as she gives it leave!O, bid thy stars, sweet maid, agree——

Heigh-ho, my star of love

Has left its heaven high,

And all the beauteous court above,

To dwell in fair Methone's eye.

And now, alas, unlucky bliss,

It finds a home so bright

That all its beauty buried is

Within that fairer, cruel light.

No more, no more it shines for meBut as she gives it leave!O, bid thy stars, sweet maid, agree——

No more, no more it shines for me

But as she gives it leave!

O, bid thy stars, sweet maid, agree——

Bren.Ho, if heaven had no stars save those left by lovers after fitting up their mistress' eyes, Erebus would stumble for want of candles!Meth.[Jumping up] Go! I hear my mistress![Tichus walks leisurely into garden, Brentio following]Meth.Brentio, take the harp![Brentio returns and picks up harp]Bren.So! I'm an excellent dromedary, if I can't flute it like Apollo.Meth.Run, snail!Bren.Not I, by Vulcan's limp![Theano appears at smaller entrance of palace]The.Methone?[Brentio runs into garden]

Bren.Ho, if heaven had no stars save those left by lovers after fitting up their mistress' eyes, Erebus would stumble for want of candles!

Meth.[Jumping up] Go! I hear my mistress!

[Tichus walks leisurely into garden, Brentio following]

Meth.Brentio, take the harp!

[Brentio returns and picks up harp]

Bren.So! I'm an excellent dromedary, if I can't flute it like Apollo.

Meth.Run, snail!

Bren.Not I, by Vulcan's limp!

[Theano appears at smaller entrance of palace]

The.Methone?

[Brentio runs into garden]

The.[Coming out]You here, Methone? Attend the lady Nauresta.I fear your pleasure and your duty lieToo far apart.[Exit Methone, right]Ocrastes, come! My love!Fair clos�d flowers that wait the royal dawnEre they will sport with beauty's open faceAre as my heart that caseth up its joyTo wait thy voice.[The day darkens to dusk. Theano looks into the garden, suddenly eager]He's coming! No, he stopsTo 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 'tPhillistus 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 soulTo such a brave paymaster.[Enters palace]Oc.[Coming on right, not seeing Theano]Vile, too vile!Let me not think of it.The.Ocrastes?Oc.Ah,My never-setting star!The.But you are troubled.Hast news?Oc.Rumors, my girl. They're in the airLike floating poisons. O that SyracuseHad one man in 't!The.Look in my eyes and see him.Oc.One sword in one right hand!The.Here, in my eyes.Oc.I see a dallying, damn�d temporizer,Who stops to count the threatening dragon's teethEre reaving him of head.The.My love, what is it?Oc.Still Dion lingers, playing the game of witsIn idle Athens, while scandal eats his name——The.Ocrastes!Oc.Yes, I said it.The.Ah, you mean——Oc.I mean——The.Aristocles.Oc.O, Dion, Dion!The.Speusippus says he comes.Oc.Too late he comesThat should be here already.The.Dear my love,He is not young as you, and years are cautious.While age makes ready to resent affrontThe 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 cloudRose-covered by the toil of flying dovesTo keep off heaven's tears. And you deny it!The.My own!Oc.You do not love me!The.Hear him not,O patient Heaven!Oc.Come to me, Theano.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 meShould 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.[Enter Methone, right]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 moreTo 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 worldUncaskets nothing in the hour of bloom,But fans the air with its own waste of leaves.Even so my hope, that with the swelling yearPressed to a summer crown, unfolds on naughtAnd 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 encirquedBy silent potence, like the quietudeOf 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 wreathedWith memory's stars, and circled new each mornWith pearls iridian from regretful eyesThat they—such days—can pass.Aris.EternityLooked once upon the world, where lingers yetSome 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——[Re-enter Ocrastes]Ara.[To Ocrastes]Will you not sit with us?Oc.Nay, I'll rest here.[Lies down on one of the long seats]I know you talk of Dion, and one who loves himBrings no intrusive ear,—or if it is,'Tis deaf with weariness.Ara.[To Aristocles]He's tempest-rackedBetween 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 godsWhen 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 soulKeeps court so far above me.Aris.I'll read to you.Ara.What you have written there?Aris.No—no—'tis nothing.Ara.Ah, do not read to-night. I am so lonelyThat even with a book I would not share thee,Though it should tempt with the most wondrous hapOf 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 toldBy the prophet-cradling Nile when Lotus budsUpbreathing blow new seasons of old dreams.Not e'en our Venus, dove-led, invisible,More softly moves to Paphos wood than sheO'er sleeping earth. Her wings lead on the light,And when she lifts them dawn awakes.Ara.Fair Isis!Aris.She seeks her brother, self-created, slainBy his own pride, for he was God of All.Her tears, like weeping music, sweeten earth,Nor rests she till she finds him.Ara.Sister Isis!Aris.And then—none knows how hid in solitudeShe suckles death with life till he new risesThe God of All, too great for pride, too justFor death; the sire of Beauty, breathing LifeThrough Love,—soul of the nurturing sun—The mother-breast of fields—the parent thrillOf birds, of trees, of flowers—of all that makesMost sweet the fair world's mortal pageantry,—Yea of the eternal, vital glow that throbsWithin humanity's deep-rubied heart.So runs the myth, dear Aratea.Ara.Ah!How runs the rubric of thy thought that setsThe symbol plain? Read that to me, I pray thee.Aris.The lonely mind may not uprafter stars,And vain, adventurous man who of himselfCreateth Heaven must see it fall. Then dothThe woman spirit, girdle of the worlds,Above the ruins cry,—his mate forgotWho from his flesh by love's divinityCalls forth the beauteous eternitiesTo 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 spinYour 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 droppedHer morning mantle at your feet and blushedHerself revestured. No! But Aratea!She has a human heart,—eyes that can fillWith tears,—soft hands that love the thing they touch,—A body that might be the ivory cupDelight doth use to dip and measure outThe rose-flood of her pleasure. Go, I say!Take to the sea, and leave no track my swordMay 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 DionysiusTo-day seized all possessions of my lord,And stopped all moneys to him. In this deedOcrastes reads the preface to new woes,Which shakes his mind's security and givesA 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 careHas bared a plot against Aristocles,Whom he for safety bids repair at onceTo the castle fort, where he must rest to-nightIn 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 troopsTo level Syracuse, they think 'tis byYour 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 shakeThe 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 showTheir foulest face. I must take means at onceTo learn the truth. My careful Dionysius,I will be vigilant too.[Turns to go in. Picks up a bit of paper]'Tis what he wroteAnd said 'twas nothing. O,—a pretty rhyme![Reads]Thine eyes are on the stars, my Star!Would I might beThat heaven farWith 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 gloomas 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 nightHas not yet donned her moist and heavy cloak.[They cross to garden]Here let us wait the lords. We've summoned allOf golden purse and of right noble line.Now that we've stopped all revenues to Dion,And this night give our sister to a husbandOf our own choosing——Oc.Dionysius!Diony.Ha! You, Ocrastes? Know to whom you speak!Oc.My lord, you would not dare——Diony.Not dare? That wordIs strange to me. Will some good scholar hereTell 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 valiancyOnce more with us, but while we doubt your heartYou 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 nowNo time for sighs and groans. The tyrant's browIs hung with murder's cloud. I must be quickOr 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.Better? Who?The.Who?—O! My mother.Oc.Fie, does she yet live?The.O gentle gods!Oc.All women now should die.The.Ocrastes!Oc.Do not stare. Thine eyes are notThe 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.The.Thou hast it.Oc.Swear 'tis mine.The.My lover!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!The.My love!Oc.Go, go![Theano goes into palace. Dionysius comes from garden. Ocrastes moves aside and stands in shadow]Diony.'Tis time our sister should be toldOur happy purpose.A lord.She is here.[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 meetIll 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 beMy own. To-night! Dost hear?Ara.Ay, Dionysius.Diony.And art not pleased? No thanks that I provideFor your forsaken state? Now, now! One word.Stand not so fixed, as I had ordered youTo instant death.Ara.You make me marble, sir.Unloose my soul's locked torture with the keyOf one retracting word, or I must seekIn kinder stone my sole relief from pain.O, say it is not so! This is a jestWill 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 toilsIn your ungracious service. Come, my friends.All to the council hall! With me, my sister.Ara.O, brother, not one moment to look backAnd say farewell to Heaven? Not one to gazeInto the darkness ere I plunge to hell?Diony.And let the hour 'tween my intent and deedLay meddling finger on my purpose? Nay,You know me better, madam. On my lords!Delay's the whetstone sharpens best the bladesOf 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 knowWe are of different fathers, too.Diony.You dare!Silence thy slanderous tongue!Ara.I say thou 'rt notMy 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 youSo fair a sister, and were not thus forcedTo 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 notDisfigure her. This fit of sorrow pastYou'll see her smile again, those wondrous smilesYou'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 notTo wed the wife of Dion as she stands.You'll pluck no rose in me. This face I'll sereWith constant travelling tears, till Beauty hereShall search in vain for memory of herself.My wealth I'll fling upon the air to birdsAnd beggars. Ay, my palace shall take wings!My costly robes I'll cast into the streetThat common women may adorn themselves.I am no princess. I refuse the nameOf aught that makes me sister to that wretch.Go seek some linen washer by a brookAnd find a wealthier and a prouder wife.Diony.Spoke I not truth, my lords? You see how fastHer 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.�gisthus.I beg——Callorus.My lord——Diony.'Tis fit you both should speakAt 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.�g.There's none!Callo.Let him come forth!Diony.Who, sir? His name.Oc.Ocrastes.Diony.You?�g.Ha, ha!Oc.Why not, my lord?Diony.You're Dion's heart. You cast him off?Oc.You askFor proof? I take his wife. Were I to warmMy fingers in his blood, I'd have more hopeThat he would rise and bless me than to keepHis love while she lies on my bosom.Ara.O!Oc.I challenge any here to match my claim.This is the sword, my lord, that held the cityAgainst the Tarentines when these brave noblesTrembled behind their fast shut doors.�g.'Tis false!Oc.All know 'tis true. Since boasting now's a virtue,I'll do it well. Who wore the laurel wreathThat saved all Sicily a spreading blushThe day the Carthaginian youths were sentDefeated home? You ask for wealth? My vineyardsRun to the wilderness. My corn now greensOn �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 putA 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 selfYields to my line the birthright courtesy.Diony.Enough. Now Dion's cause falls down. Enough!Come to our heart, Ocrastes! There's not oneWe'd rather win to us.Speu.[Aside]O, Dion, now allForsake thee but calamity, that likeA covetous ill wife hangs on thy fortune!Diony.By Pluto, no more fear! Our throne is safe!Oc.My lord——Diony.Nay, brother!Oc.Pray be warned by oneWho knows too well your need. Not all the troopsOf broadest Sicily may keep you safeWhen Dion comes from Greece. Men swarm to himAs he were golden Saturn giving offNew fortunes with each breath. Send me with speedTo Italy. There I have friends shall beYour own, and pour a fleet into your harborWill turn lord Dion pale when next his eyeScans Syracusan waters.Diony.Italy?We'll think of it. You're the true warrior stuff,Planning campaigns with the same breath you winA royal bride. We like you better for it,But she may like you less. Give her a word.Oc.O, fairest woman that ever made the earthMore sweet and beauteous to live upon,You'll find in me a true and gentle lord.These tears I'll teach to run a smiling raceAnd in a happy death forget their birth.[Attempts to embrace her]Ara.Open the prisons, call some convict forth,And I will wed him, but not you! These lordsHave hated Dion, have not lived uponHis constant kindness. You have drunk his loveLike flowing wine, and lived by it!Oc.Rail on,If railing pleases you. In aftertimeYou'll love the better for it.Diony.Right! Give her leave,And she will stroke you where she meant to strike.Ara.You love Theano!Oc.Ah,—I did, perhaps,A thousand years ago. All now's forgotBut that thou mayst be mine.Ara.O, false——Oc.O true!What was scarce fair to unpossessing eyes,Perfection is when gods have made it ours.Thou wilt forgive me that I loved thee notWhile thou wert Dion's, for my eyes were sealedBy loyalty to him. But this divorceThat frees thee gives me sight. I see, and love.And by that love still dost thou grow more fair.For is not love a second, truer eye,Finding out beauty where the first could not?No more! We'll plead hereafter. 'Tis an hourTo win, not woo. Swords must be burnished, sailsMust meet the wind!Ara.Are you Ocrastes? No!O, no! He is the son of Dion's love,And you would wed his wife. He was a poorForsaken babe, his mighty heritagePlunder for any thief. 'Twas Dion thenBecame his father, gave him life and wealth,And that sweet breeding that till now did showSo fair in him. Ocrastes owes him all——Oc.Ay, all! E'en wisdom. He would call me foolStayed I from market when thy richest selfCourts any passing bid. Since he must lose——Ara.Nay, every touch will be a three-fold shameRobbing a husband, benefactor, friend.My eyes will mirror those reproachful daysWhen Dion's care was fond about us both.His kisses guard my lips. His praise of youWill block your words in my assaulted ears.Oc.You know me not. My words shall be love's fireBurning the track of Dion's pale discourse.My kisses on your lips hold festal warWith his till they, poor ghosts, shall flee. And dewsOf happiness shall wash all pictures outFrom your fair eyes but my enthron�d ownWhich hourly I'll new-set in their fair glass!Ara.I called you brother!... O, my lords, I beg—Some one of you—to take me for—your—wife.[Faints. Ocrastes supports her. Curtain.]

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 stopsTo 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 'tPhillistus said? No matter. It was false.

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 soulTo such a brave paymaster.

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.

[Enters palace]

Oc.[Coming on right, not seeing Theano]Vile, too vile!Let me not think of it.

Oc.[Coming on right, not seeing Theano]

Vile, too vile!

Let me not think of it.

The.Ocrastes?

Oc.Ah,My never-setting star!

Oc.Ah,

My never-setting star!

The.But you are troubled.Hast news?

The.But you are troubled.

Hast news?

Oc.Rumors, my girl. They're in the airLike floating poisons. O that SyracuseHad one man in 't!

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!

The.Here, in my eyes.

Oc.I see a dallying, damn�d temporizer,Who stops to count the threatening dragon's teethEre reaving him of head.

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 witsIn idle Athens, while scandal eats his name——

Oc.Still Dion lingers, playing the game of wits

In idle Athens, while scandal eats his name——

The.Ocrastes!

Oc.Yes, I said it.

The.Ah, you mean——

Oc.I mean——

The.Aristocles.

Oc.O, Dion, Dion!

The.Speusippus says he comes.

Oc.Too late he comesThat should be here already.

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 affrontThe blows of youth are given and forgot.

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 cloudRose-covered by the toil of flying dovesTo keep off heaven's tears. And you deny it!

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.My own!

Oc.You do not love me!

The.Hear him not,O patient Heaven!

The.Hear him not,

O patient Heaven!

Oc.Come to me, Theano.

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 meShould reach back from the tomb.

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.

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.

[Enter Methone, right]

Meth.Mistress Theano, your mother is strangely ill.I pray you, come.

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 moreTo win the picket of her bluff regard.

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 worldUncaskets nothing in the hour of bloom,But fans the air with its own waste of leaves.Even so my hope, that with the swelling yearPressed to a summer crown, unfolds on naughtAnd prodigal of self to naught is come.

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 encirquedBy silent potence, like the quietudeOf 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 wreathedWith memory's stars, and circled new each mornWith pearls iridian from regretful eyesThat they—such days—can pass.

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.EternityLooked once upon the world, where lingers yetSome brightness of her eye that we call Time.Can aught so fleet hold value of thy tear?Thou who hast the immortal heritage?

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.

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——

[Re-enter Ocrastes]

Ara.[To Ocrastes]Will you not sit with us?

Oc.Nay, I'll rest here.

[Lies down on one of the long seats]

I know you talk of Dion, and one who loves himBrings no intrusive ear,—or if it is,'Tis deaf with weariness.

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-rackedBetween his love and friend. Ay, me, the world!

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]

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!

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 godsWhen 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 soulKeeps court so far above me.

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.

Aris.I'll read to you.

Ara.What you have written there?

Aris.No—no—'tis nothing.

Ara.Ah, do not read to-night. I am so lonelyThat even with a book I would not share thee,Though it should tempt with the most wondrous hapOf 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.

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 toldBy the prophet-cradling Nile when Lotus budsUpbreathing blow new seasons of old dreams.Not e'en our Venus, dove-led, invisible,More softly moves to Paphos wood than sheO'er sleeping earth. Her wings lead on the light,And when she lifts them dawn awakes.

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.

Ara.Fair Isis!

Aris.She seeks her brother, self-created, slainBy his own pride, for he was God of All.Her tears, like weeping music, sweeten earth,Nor rests she till she finds him.

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.

Ara.Sister Isis!

Aris.And then—none knows how hid in solitudeShe suckles death with life till he new risesThe God of All, too great for pride, too justFor death; the sire of Beauty, breathing LifeThrough Love,—soul of the nurturing sun—The mother-breast of fields—the parent thrillOf birds, of trees, of flowers—of all that makesMost sweet the fair world's mortal pageantry,—Yea of the eternal, vital glow that throbsWithin humanity's deep-rubied heart.So runs the myth, dear Aratea.

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 setsThe symbol plain? Read that to me, I pray thee.

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 himselfCreateth Heaven must see it fall. Then dothThe woman spirit, girdle of the worlds,Above the ruins cry,—his mate forgotWho from his flesh by love's divinityCalls forth the beauteous eternitiesTo star the globe of life.

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!

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.

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 spinYour cobwebs round the moon![To Aristocles]Get you to Athens,While you may say to Dion she is true!

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 droppedHer morning mantle at your feet and blushedHerself revestured. No! But Aratea!She has a human heart,—eyes that can fillWith tears,—soft hands that love the thing they touch,—A body that might be the ivory cupDelight doth use to dip and measure outThe rose-flood of her pleasure. Go, I say!Take to the sea, and leave no track my swordMay follow.[Rushes into garden]

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 DionysiusTo-day seized all possessions of my lord,And stopped all moneys to him. In this deedOcrastes reads the preface to new woes,Which shakes his mind's security and givesA living color to his fantasies.[Aristocles stands gazing out, not showing his face]But Heaven and I know your white soul, my lord——

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 careHas bared a plot against Aristocles,Whom he for safety bids repair at onceTo the castle fort, where he must rest to-nightIn sure protection of the royal 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 troopsTo level Syracuse, they think 'tis byYour aid and counsel. Pray you, lose no time.

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 shakeThe city's peace.[To Aratea]Farewell.

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 showTheir foulest face. I must take means at onceTo learn the truth. My careful Dionysius,I will be vigilant too.

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 wroteAnd said 'twas nothing. O,—a pretty rhyme!

'Tis what he wrote

And said 'twas nothing. O,—a pretty rhyme!

[Reads]

Thine eyes are on the stars, my Star!Would I might beThat heaven farWith thousand eyes on thee!

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.

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 gloomas 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 nightHas not yet donned her moist and heavy cloak.

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.

[They cross to garden]

Here let us wait the lords. We've summoned allOf golden purse and of right noble line.Now that we've stopped all revenues to Dion,And this night give our sister to a husbandOf our own choosing——

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——

Oc.Dionysius!

Diony.Ha! You, Ocrastes? Know to whom you speak!

Oc.My lord, you would not dare——

Diony.Not dare? That wordIs strange to me. Will some good scholar hereTell me its meaning?

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——

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——

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 valiancyOnce more with us, but while we doubt your heartYou are our enemy.

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!

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 nowNo time for sighs and groans. The tyrant's browIs hung with murder's cloud. I must be quickOr lose the breath ties me to upper earth.Action must take the vantage now of thought,And reason follow after.

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.

The.I was long.

... She's better now, and quiet.

Oc.Better? Who?

The.Who?—O! My mother.

Oc.Fie, does she yet live?

The.O gentle gods!

Oc.All women now should die.

The.Ocrastes!

Oc.Do not stare. Thine eyes are notThe only home of agony. Farewell!

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?

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.

The.Thou hast it.

Oc.Swear 'tis mine.

The.My lover!

Oc.Swear!Thy trust! Thy perfect trust!

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?

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!

The.My love!

Oc.Go, go!

[Theano goes into palace. Dionysius comes from garden. Ocrastes moves aside and stands in shadow]

Diony.'Tis time our sister should be toldOur happy purpose.

Diony.'Tis time our sister should be told

Our happy purpose.

A lord.She is here.

[Aratea re-enters, and hastens across to Dionysius]

Ara.My brother,I came to seek you. Lord Aristocles——

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 meetIll fortune's tide.

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!

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 beMy own. To-night! Dost hear?

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?

Ara.Ay, Dionysius.

Diony.And art not pleased? No thanks that I provideFor your forsaken state? Now, now! One word.Stand not so fixed, as I had ordered youTo instant death.

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 keyOf one retracting word, or I must seekIn kinder stone my sole relief from pain.O, say it is not so! This is a jestWill make you weep when you——

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 toilsIn your ungracious service. Come, my friends.All to the council hall! With me, my sister.

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 backAnd say farewell to Heaven? Not one to gazeInto the darkness ere I plunge to hell?

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 deedLay meddling finger on my purpose? Nay,You know me better, madam. On my lords!Delay's the whetstone sharpens best the bladesOf enemies.

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.

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.

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 knowWe are of different fathers, too.

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!

Diony.You dare!

Silence thy slanderous tongue!

Ara.I say thou 'rt notMy royal father's son!

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 youSo fair a sister, and were not thus forcedTo choose among you. Who is first to speak?

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.

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 notDisfigure her. This fit of sorrow pastYou'll see her smile again, those wondrous smilesYou've longed in secret to make all your own.A week, a day, will put some spirit in her.

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 notTo wed the wife of Dion as she stands.You'll pluck no rose in me. This face I'll sereWith constant travelling tears, till Beauty hereShall search in vain for memory of herself.My wealth I'll fling upon the air to birdsAnd beggars. Ay, my palace shall take wings!My costly robes I'll cast into the streetThat common women may adorn themselves.I am no princess. I refuse the nameOf aught that makes me sister to that wretch.Go seek some linen washer by a brookAnd find a wealthier and a prouder wife.

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 fastHer 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.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.

�gisthus.I beg——

Callorus.My lord——

Diony.'Tis fit you both should speakAt 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.

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.

�g.There's none!

Callo.Let him come forth!

Diony.Who, sir? His name.

Oc.Ocrastes.

Diony.You?

�g.Ha, ha!

Oc.Why not, my lord?

Diony.You're Dion's heart. You cast him off?

Oc.You askFor proof? I take his wife. Were I to warmMy fingers in his blood, I'd have more hopeThat he would rise and bless me than to keepHis love while she lies on my bosom.

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.

Ara.O!

Oc.I challenge any here to match my claim.This is the sword, my lord, that held the cityAgainst the Tarentines when these brave noblesTrembled behind their fast shut doors.

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.

�g.'Tis false!

Oc.All know 'tis true. Since boasting now's a virtue,I'll do it well. Who wore the laurel wreathThat saved all Sicily a spreading blushThe day the Carthaginian youths were sentDefeated home? You ask for wealth? My vineyardsRun to the wilderness. My corn now greensOn �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 putA 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 selfYields to my line the birthright courtesy.

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 oneWe'd rather win to us.

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 allForsake thee but calamity, that likeA covetous ill wife hangs on thy fortune!

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.My lord——

Diony.Nay, brother!

Oc.Pray be warned by oneWho knows too well your need. Not all the troopsOf broadest Sicily may keep you safeWhen Dion comes from Greece. Men swarm to himAs he were golden Saturn giving offNew fortunes with each breath. Send me with speedTo Italy. There I have friends shall beYour own, and pour a fleet into your harborWill turn lord Dion pale when next his eyeScans Syracusan waters.

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 winA royal bride. We like you better for it,But she may like you less. Give her a word.

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.

Oc.O, fairest woman that ever made the earthMore sweet and beauteous to live upon,You'll find in me a true and gentle lord.These tears I'll teach to run a smiling raceAnd in a happy death forget their birth.[Attempts to embrace her]

Oc.O, fairest woman that ever made the earth

More sweet and beauteous to live upon,

You'll find in me a true and gentle lord.

These tears I'll teach to run a smiling race

And in a happy death forget their birth.

[Attempts to embrace her]

Ara.Open the prisons, call some convict forth,And I will wed him, but not you! These lordsHave hated Dion, have not lived uponHis constant kindness. You have drunk his loveLike flowing wine, and lived by it!

Ara.Open the prisons, call some convict forth,

And I will wed him, but not you! These lords

Have hated Dion, have not lived upon

His constant kindness. You have drunk his love

Like flowing wine, and lived by it!

Oc.Rail on,If railing pleases you. In aftertimeYou'll love the better for it.

Oc.Rail on,

If railing pleases you. In aftertime

You'll love the better for it.

Diony.Right! Give her leave,And she will stroke you where she meant to strike.

Diony.Right! Give her leave,

And she will stroke you where she meant to strike.

Ara.You love Theano!

Oc.Ah,—I did, perhaps,A thousand years ago. All now's forgotBut that thou mayst be mine.

Oc.Ah,—I did, perhaps,

A thousand years ago. All now's forgot

But that thou mayst be mine.

Ara.O, false——

Oc.O true!What was scarce fair to unpossessing eyes,Perfection is when gods have made it ours.Thou wilt forgive me that I loved thee notWhile thou wert Dion's, for my eyes were sealedBy loyalty to him. But this divorceThat frees thee gives me sight. I see, and love.And by that love still dost thou grow more fair.For is not love a second, truer eye,Finding out beauty where the first could not?No more! We'll plead hereafter. 'Tis an hourTo win, not woo. Swords must be burnished, sailsMust meet the wind!

Oc.O true!

What was scarce fair to unpossessing eyes,

Perfection is when gods have made it ours.

Thou wilt forgive me that I loved thee not

While thou wert Dion's, for my eyes were sealed

By loyalty to him. But this divorce

That frees thee gives me sight. I see, and love.

And by that love still dost thou grow more fair.

For is not love a second, truer eye,

Finding out beauty where the first could not?

No more! We'll plead hereafter. 'Tis an hour

To win, not woo. Swords must be burnished, sails

Must meet the wind!

Ara.Are you Ocrastes? No!O, no! He is the son of Dion's love,And you would wed his wife. He was a poorForsaken babe, his mighty heritagePlunder for any thief. 'Twas Dion thenBecame his father, gave him life and wealth,And that sweet breeding that till now did showSo fair in him. Ocrastes owes him all——

Ara.Are you Ocrastes? No!

O, no! He is the son of Dion's love,

And you would wed his wife. He was a poor

Forsaken babe, his mighty heritage

Plunder for any thief. 'Twas Dion then

Became his father, gave him life and wealth,

And that sweet breeding that till now did show

So fair in him. Ocrastes owes him all——

Oc.Ay, all! E'en wisdom. He would call me foolStayed I from market when thy richest selfCourts any passing bid. Since he must lose——

Oc.Ay, all! E'en wisdom. He would call me fool

Stayed I from market when thy richest self

Courts any passing bid. Since he must lose——

Ara.Nay, every touch will be a three-fold shameRobbing a husband, benefactor, friend.My eyes will mirror those reproachful daysWhen Dion's care was fond about us both.His kisses guard my lips. His praise of youWill block your words in my assaulted ears.

Ara.Nay, every touch will be a three-fold shame

Robbing a husband, benefactor, friend.

My eyes will mirror those reproachful days

When Dion's care was fond about us both.

His kisses guard my lips. His praise of you

Will block your words in my assaulted ears.

Oc.You know me not. My words shall be love's fireBurning the track of Dion's pale discourse.My kisses on your lips hold festal warWith his till they, poor ghosts, shall flee. And dewsOf happiness shall wash all pictures outFrom your fair eyes but my enthron�d ownWhich hourly I'll new-set in their fair glass!

Oc.You know me not. My words shall be love's fire

Burning the track of Dion's pale discourse.

My kisses on your lips hold festal war

With his till they, poor ghosts, shall flee. And dews

Of happiness shall wash all pictures out

From your fair eyes but my enthron�d own

Which hourly I'll new-set in their fair glass!

Ara.I called you brother!... O, my lords, I beg—Some one of you—to take me for—your—wife.

Ara.I called you brother!... O, my lords, I beg—

Some one of you—to take me for—your—wife.

[Faints. Ocrastes supports her. Curtain.]

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