Chapter 18

Lyc.Nay, I have seen them.Ab.Your majesty hath been at Aulis?Lyc.Nay,500Nor yet at Aulis: but the tale thou tellestComing unto my ears a month ago,Some of my lords and I one idle mornCrossed to Eubœa,—’tis a pleasure trip,On a clear day scarce out of sight of home—We landed ’neath Œchalia by noon,And, crossing o’er the isle on mules, were lodgedThat night at Chalcis. The next day at dawnI played the spy. ’Twas such a breathless morning510When all the sound and motion of the seaIs short and sullen, like a dreaming beast:Or as ’twere mixed of heavier elementsThan the bright water, that obeys the wind.Hiring a fishing-boat we bade the sailorsRow us to Aulis; when midway the straits,The morning mist lifted, and lo, a sightUnpicturable.—High upon our leftWhere we supposed was nothing, suddenlyA tall and shadowy figure loomed: then two,And three, and four, and more towering above us:521But whether poised upon the leaden seaThey stood, or floated in the misty air,That baffling our best vision held entangledThe silver of the half-awakened sun,Or whether near or far, we could not tell,Nor what: at first I thought them rocks, but ereThat error could be told, they were upon usBearing down swiftly athwart our course; and allSaw ’twas a fleet of ships, not three or four530Now, but unnumber’d: like a floating city,If such could be, with walls and battlementsSpread on the wondering water: and now the sunBroke thro’ the haze, and from the shields outhungBlazed back his dazzling beams, and round their prowsOn the divided water played; as stillThey rode the tide in silence, all their oarsStretched out aloft, as are the balanced wingsOf storm-fowl, which returned from battling flightAcross the sea, steady their aching plumes540And skim along the shuddering cliffs at ease:So came they gliding on the sullen plain,Out of the dark, in silent state, by forceYet unexpended of their nightlong speed.Those were the Cretan ships, who when they saw usHailed for a pilot, and of our native sailorsTook one aboard, and dipping all their oarsPassed on, and we with them, into the bay.Then from all round, where the dark hulls were mooredAgainst the shore, and from the tents above550A shout of joy went up, re-echoingFrom point to point; and we too cheered and caughtThe zeal of that great gathering.—Where man is metThe gods will come; or shall I say man’s spiritHath operative faculties to mixAnd make his gods at will? Howe’er that be,Soon a swift galley shot out from the restTo meet the comers. That was Agamemnon’s,They told me; and I doubt not he was in it,And gave his welcome to Idomeneus,560And took him to his tent. On such a dayOur little boat rowed where we would unmarked:We were but Chalcian pilots. So I sawWhate’er I wished to see, and came awayAcross the strait that night, and the next dayWas home by sundown.Ab.All this could you seeWithout the wish to join?Lyc.I say not that;For wish I did that I was young again.Then, sir, I would have left whate’er I had,My kingdom to another, for the pride,570Of high place in such war; now I am old.Ab.But older men than thou have joined us, sire.War needs experience.Lyc.Concerning warI am divided in opinion, Abas:But lean to think it hath a wholesome rootSupportive to our earthly habit. I seeThe noblest beasts will love to fight, and manIs body as well as spirit: his mind that’s setIn judgment o’er those twain must oft admitThe grosser part hath a preponderant claim.580But I regret this, and my discontentPuts me this question, Shall man never comeTo a better state with his desire? What think you?What if our race yet young should with the timeThrow off the baser passions, as I findMyself by age affected? I know not ...I have a little statue in my house,Which, if you look on’t long, begets beliefOf absolute perfectionment; the artistShould have been present when man’s clay was mixed.590Prometheus, or whoever ’twas that made us,Had his head turned with natural history:All excellent contrivance, but betrayingCommonness and complexity. Well! well!No need of my philosophies in Scyros—War must have motive, and the men I ruleAre simple and contented with their lot.None in my land would wish an atom changed:Were even Achilles here ’twould be no wonderIf he had caught our temper.Ab.All men witness600To thy good rule, O king: but in the warsFame may be won.Lyc.Nor do I ask for fame.Come that to whom it will; to Agamemnon,To Ajax or Ulysses or Achilles.Ab.To Achilles no: ’tis not in the gods’ graceTo succour pigritude. To him, a lad,The prize of honour above all the GreeksWas offered: by the poor effeminacyWith which he hath rejected it, he is judgedMeanest of all. But since we cannot win610Without him, we must have him. Little gloryTo him, except to be Fate’s dullest tool.Lyc.Maybe. Now come we on. I had thought to findMy daughter and her train. I’ll take thee roundAnother way to the palace: thither no doubtShe is now returned.[Exeunt.Enter Achilles from the bushes.Ach.Villain, I thank the gods that sent thee hither.But thou wast near thy death. Walk off secure,Not knowing that I heard.Effeminate!The meanest of the Greeks!were he the best,620I’d slay him in this garment. Yet he is butA tongue to troll opinion of me, a slave,Fetcher and carrier of others’ tales, and dothThe drudgery honestly; for that I’ll thank himAnd profit by his slander. Ay, so I’ll do—Now in good time—I’ll get me a man’s dressAnd meet them here, ere they suspect me:—or, stay!I can outwit them better. I’ll take a boat,Cross o’er to Aulis, like good Lycomede,This very night, and there to Agamemnon630Declare myself; and men shall never knowHow I was hid, nor whence I came.Enter Thetis.Th.My son!Ach.My goddess mother, welcome! yet I am shamedThat thou shouldst find me thus.Th.How art thou shamed?Ach.This dress. O thou canst help me: thou art readyAt every need. And here hath been a manWho, thinking not I heard, spake to the kingOf thy Achilles with such scorn, that IShould have leaped forth upon him in my rage,And strangled him, but that he seemed to be640Another’s servant.Th.Then thou hast seen them, son?Ach.Who are they?Th.Those I came to warn thee of;Ulysses and his friends. Knowst thou ’tis theyAre come unto the isle to seek thee?Ach.Ay.But thou art ready to outwit their wile.As thou didst bring me hither on that nightWhen all thy nymphs, assembling ’neath the moonUpon the Achæan shore, bore me awayAcross the sea, even so to Aulis nowConvey me secretly, and set me there,Ere men know whence I come.Th.What hear I, son?650To Aulis? to thy foes?Ach.A thousand shipsMoored idle in the bay wait but for me:And round the shore the captains of the GreeksImpatient in their tents but call for me.Be they my foes to speak or wish me ill,’Tis only that I come not. I must go.Th.There let them tarry till the sea-worm boreTheir ships to rottenness; or, sail they forth,Let them be butchered by the sword of Hector,660Ere thou be snared to serve their empty pride.Ach.But louder than their need my honour calls:Hast thou no thought of this in all thy love?Th.Who then is honoured more or more desiredThan thou art now? but they, if once they had thee,Would slight thee, and pretend they were the men.Ach.But those are honoured best that hear their praise.Th.Is not high Zeus himself, holding aloof,Worshipped the more? Let the world say of thee,When these have perished, that they went their way670Because the son of Thetis would not aid them.Ach.But if ’twere said because he feared to die?Th.Fearst thou reproach of fear that fearst not death?Ach.I fear not, but by proof would shun reproach.Th.Men, son, are what they are; and thou art brave.’Tis asked of poor and questionable spiritsTo prove their worth.Ach.I prove myself a coward.Th.How! when it needed heavenly prayers and tears,The force of duty and a goddess’ willTo keep thee back from death! when all the joys680That I have set about thee, and a loveMore beautiful than Helen’s cannot hold thee!Ach.Fate, that from men hideth her pitiless face,Offered to me this kindness, that my willShould be of force in predetermined deeds:Allowing me to take which life I wouldOf two incomparable lots; I everLeaned one way, the other thou; and still at heartI hold to my first choice.Th.O child of man,Though child of mine, wouldst thou know wisdom’s way,690Learn it of me. If I had said to theeThou being a mortal shouldst love death and darkness;For in the brief date of thy heedless term’Tis vain to strive with evil: and since the endCometh the same, and at the latest comethSo soon, that there’s no difference to be told’Twixt early and late, ’tis wisdom to despair:Then would thy tongue have boldly answered me,And said, Man hath his life; that it must endCondemns it not for nought. Are rivers salt700Because they travel to the bitter sea?Is the day dark because the gorgeous westMust fade in gloom, when the ungazeable sunIs fallen beneath the waves? Or hath the springNo charm in her pavilions, are her floorsNot starred, for that we see her birth is slowOf niggard winter, and her blossoms smirchedBy summer’s tyranny? Hadst thou said this,And that Earth’s changeful pride, the life of man,Is exquisite in such a qualityTo make the high gods envious could they guess:711Then had I found no answer: but when ITold thee of joy, and set thee in the midst,That thou shouldst argue with me that ’tis bestTo die at once, and for an empty namePass to the trivial shades; then must I fearI have as thankless and unwise a son,As disobedient.—Yet when first I taught theeThou gav’st me promise to be wise.Ach.But neverWilt thou then free me from my promise given?720Th.Not to thy hurt.Ach.See now what shame I bear!Th.Why make so much of shame? If thou despiseThe pleasure of the earth, why not the shame?Ach.I wrong, too, this old king.Th.His daughter more,If thou desert her.Ach.But ’twould hurt her lessTo lose me now than know me when disgraced.Th.I plead not in her name, nor charge thee, son,With loving her in my contempt. A dreamOf mortal fancy or honour may becloudThy mind awhile, but ne’er canst thou forget730Thy bond to me; the care that never left theeTill thou wert out of hand; the love that daredTo send thee from my sight when thou wast able,And to strange lands; my secret visitingsThere, and revisitings; the dreams I sent thee,Warnings of ill, and ecstasies of pride;The thousand miracles I wrought to save thee,And guard thee to thy prime;—and now men sayThou art the first of the Greeks: their homaged kings739The gods condemn to death if thou withholdThy single arm. Why so? What hast thou done?Where have men seen thee? Hast thou ruled like Nestor?Conquered like Agamemnon, fought like Ajax?What is thy prowess, what thy skill but this,That thou art son of Thetis? Disobey not,Nor question now my bidding. Must I kneel,Embrace thy knees, or melt before thy faceIn supplicating tears? O if thy birthDid cost the tenderest tears that god e’er shed,Make not those bitter drops to have flowed in vain.750Whate’er fate portion thee my joy is this—That thou dost love me. Dost thou cease to love,I am most miserable.Ach.O fear not that,Mother and goddess! Pardon me, weep not.Let all men curse me, be my name abhorred,Rather than thou be grieved. ’Twas anger moved me:I will forget this, and obey thee. SayWhat I must do, how best avoid these men:And how refuse their call if I be found.Th.Kiss me, my son. By the gods’ life, I love thee:760My grief is to deny thee. But there’s needOf counsel, for the day is criticalAnd glides apace. And first if they should find thee,Then ’tis thy fate to go: I cannot stay thee.And since to bear thee hence were sure betrayal,I urge thee to be true to thy disguise.And better to escape thy foes, learn nowWhom most to dread. Of all the Argives shunUlysses; come not near him in the halls;And should he speak to thee, answer no word.770Him thou wilt know by his preëminence:In person he is beardless yet, and smoothOf face and tongue, alluring, gentle in voiceBut sturdy of body, and ’neath his helm his locksO’er a wide brow and restless eye curl forthIn ruddy brown; nor less for his attireNotable is he, wearing the best of all,His linen broidered, and broad jewels to holdA robe of gray and purple.Ach.He shall not spy me.But if by any warning from the gods780He know and call to me, how then to escapeThe shame of this Ionian skirt?Th.That chanceI can provide for, and shall give thee nowA magic garment fitting to thy body,Which worn beneath thy robe will seem as weftOf linen thread, but if it meet the light’Twill be a gilded armour, and serve wellIn proof as show. Come, I will set it on thee.[Exeunt.Enter Deidamia and Chorus.Deid.The ground is clear, we have deceived them mightily,Running around.Ch.Where is our queen?(2)Not here.Deid.I’ll call her. Pyrrha!—Call all together.Ch.Pyrrha!Deid.She will come presently.—Did ye not mark792How resonant this glade is? that our voicesNeither return nor fly, but stay about us?It is the trunks of the trees that cage the sound;As in an open temple, where the pillarsEnrich the music. In my father’s hallThe echo of each note burdens the next.’Twould be well done to cut a theatreDeep in some wooded dale. Till Pyrrha come,Alexia, sing thou here.Ch.What shall I sing?800Deid.There is a Lydian chant I call to mindIn honour of music-makers: it beginnethWith praise of the soft spring, and heavenly love—’Twill suit our mood, if thou remember it.Chorus.The earth loveth the spring,Nor of her coming despaireth,Withheld by nightly sting,Snow, and icy fling,The snarl of the North:But nevertheless she prepareth810And setteth in order her nurselings to bring them forth,The jewels of her delight,What shall be blue, what yellow or white;What softest above the rest,The primrose, that loveth bestWoodland skirts and the copses shorn.2.And on the day of relenting she suddenly wearethHer budding crowns. O then, in the early morn,Is any song that comparethWith the gaiety of birds, that thrill the gladdened airIn inexhaustible chorus821To awake the sons of the soilWith music more than in brilliant halls sonorous(—It cannot compare—)Is fed to the ears of kingsFrom the reeds and hirèd strings?For love maketh them glad;And if a soul be sad,Or a heart oracle dumb,830Here may it taste the promise of joy to come.3.For the Earth knoweth the love which made her,The omnipotent one desire,Which burns at her heart like fire,And hath in gladness arrayed her.And man with the Maker shareth,Him also to rival throughout the lands,To make a work with his handsAnd have his children adore it:The Creator smileth on him who is wise and darethIn understanding with pride:840For God, where’er he hath builded, dwelleth wide,—And he careth,—To set a task to the smallest atom,The law-abiding grains,That hearken each and rejoice:For he guideth the world as a horse with reins;It obeyeth his voice,And lo! he hath set a beautiful end before it:4.Whereto it leapeth and striveth continually,And pitieth nought, nor spareth:850The mother’s wail for her children slain,The stain of disease,The darts of pain,The waste of the fruits of trees,The slaughter of cattle,Unbrotherly lust, the warOf hunger, blood, and the yells of battle,It heedeth no moreThan a carver regardeth the wood that he cutteth away:The grainèd shavings fall at his feet,860But that which his tool hath spared shall standFor men to praise the work of his hand;For he cutteth so far, and there it lay,And his work is complete.5.But I will praise ’mong men the masters of mindIn music and song,Who follow the love of God to bless their kind:And I pray they findA marriage of mirth—And a life long870With the gaiety of the Earth.Ch.There stands an old man down beneath the bank,Gazing, and beckoning to us.Deid.He is a stranger,That burdened with some package to the palaceHath missed his way about, and fears to intrude.Go some and show him.[Some run out.Meanwhile what do we?We have no sport when Pyrrha is away.Our game is broken. Come, a thought, a thought!Hath none a thought?Ch.We have never built the bower.Deid.Ye idled gathering flowers. Now ’tis too late.Ch.Let us play ball.Deid.The sun is still so high.881I shall go feed my doves.(Re-enter one of Chorus.)Ch.The old man saithThat he is a pedlar, and hath wares to sellIf he may show them. Shall he come?Deid.Now Hermes,The father of device and jugglery,Be thanked for this; ’tis he hath sent him.—Call him.His tales may be good hearing, tho’ his packRepay not search. But be advised: beware,Lest he bear off more than he bring: these fellows890Have fingers to unclasp a brooch or pinWhile the eye winks that watches. There was oneWho as he ran a race would steal the shoesOf any that ran with him. The prince of allWas merry Autolycus.Enter, with those who had gone out, Ulysses as a pedlar.Good day, old man.Come, let us see thy wares.Ul.I have no breath left,Wherewith to thank you, ladies; the little hillHas ta’en it from me.Deid.Rest awhile, and tell usWhence thou art come.Ul.In a Greek ship this morn.I pray you, that I lack not courtesy,Art thou the princess of this isle?Deid.I am.900Ul.My true and humble service to your highness.Deid.In turn say who art thou, and whence thy ship.Ul.Fair, honoured daughter of a famous king,I have no story worthy of thine ear,Being but a poor artificer of Smyrna,Where many years I wrought, and ye shall seeNot without skill, in silver and in gold.But happiness hath wrecked me, and I say’Tis ill to marry young; for from that joy910I gat a son, who as the time went on,Grew to be old and gray and wise as I;And bettering much the art which I had taught himLonged to be master in my place, for whichHe grew unkind, and his sons hated me:And when one day he wished me dead, I fearedLest I should kill myself; and so that nightI made me up a pack of little thingsHe should not grieve for, and took ship for Greece.There have I trafficked, lady, a year and more,920And kept myself alive hawking small wareFrom place to place, and on occasion foundA market for my jewels, and be come hereMaking the round of the isles in any shipThat chances: and this last I came aboardAt Andros, where I was: but whence she hailedI have even forgot. May it please thee see my wares?Deid.Thy tale is very sad. I am sorry for thee.Why would thy son, being as thou sayst so skilled,Not ply his trade apart?Ul.My house in Smyrna930Was head of all the goldsmiths: ’twas for that,Lady, he envied me. See now my wares.Deid.What beauteous work! I’m glad thou’rt come. I’ll buyA trinket for myself, and let my maidsChoose each what she may fancy. Hear ye, girls?I’ll make a gift to each.Ch.O thanks.—To all?—And may we choose?Deid.Yes.Ch.Anything we please?Deid.Why, that is choosing.Ch.O we thank thee.Ul.NowI see, princess, thou’rt of a bounteous blood,To make all round thee happy.Deid.What is this brooch?Ul.If for thyself thou fancy a brooch, I’ll show thee941The best jewel in my box, and not be shamedTo say I have no better.Ch.See, oh, see!What lovely things!—A rare old man!Ul.Here ’tis.What thinkest thou?Deid.Is’t not a ruby?Ul.And fine!Deid.I think thy son will have missed this.Ul.Nay, lady:I had it of a sailor, who, poor fool,Knew not its worth; and thou mayst buy it of meFor half its value.Deid.May I take these twoTo view them nearly?Ul.All take as ye will.Ye do me honour, ladies.Deid.Hear ye, girls,950Make each her choice. I will o’erlook your tasteWhen all is done.Ul.Come, buy my wares: come buy.Come, come buy; I’ve wares for all,Were ye each and all princesses.Clasps and brooches, large and small,Handy for holding your flowing dresses.Ch.What is this little box for?Ul.Open it.Ch.What is this vial?Ul.Smell it. Buy, come buy!Charms for lovers, charms to break,Charms to bind them to you wholly.960Medicines fit for every ache,Fever and fanciful melancholy.Ch.O smell this scent.—Here be fine pins.—See this!Ul.(aside). I spy none here to match my notion yet.Ch.I have found amber beads.—What is it is tiedIn little packets?Ul.Toilet secrets those,Perfumes, and rare cosmetics ’gainst decay.Deid.(to one apart). Alexia, see. I will buy this for Pyrrha.’Tis pity she is not here. What thinkest thou of it?970He said it was his best. This other oneI’ll give to thee if thou find nothing better.Go see. I will seek Pyrrha.[Exit.Ul.Buy, come buy!Tassels, fringes, silken strings,Girdles, ties, and Asian pockets,Armlets, necklaces and rings,Images, amulets, lovers’ lockets.Ch.Pray, what are these, good man?Ul.Of soft doe-skinThese gilded thongs are made for dancers’ wear,To tie their sandals.Ch.And is this a pin,This golden grasshopper?Ul.Ay, for the hair.980The Athenian ladies use nought else. See hereThis little cup.Ch.Didst thou make that?Ul.Nay, ladies.

Lyc.Nay, I have seen them.

Ab.Your majesty hath been at Aulis?

Lyc.Nay,500Nor yet at Aulis: but the tale thou tellestComing unto my ears a month ago,Some of my lords and I one idle mornCrossed to Eubœa,—’tis a pleasure trip,On a clear day scarce out of sight of home—We landed ’neath Œchalia by noon,And, crossing o’er the isle on mules, were lodgedThat night at Chalcis. The next day at dawnI played the spy. ’Twas such a breathless morning510When all the sound and motion of the seaIs short and sullen, like a dreaming beast:Or as ’twere mixed of heavier elementsThan the bright water, that obeys the wind.Hiring a fishing-boat we bade the sailorsRow us to Aulis; when midway the straits,The morning mist lifted, and lo, a sightUnpicturable.—High upon our leftWhere we supposed was nothing, suddenlyA tall and shadowy figure loomed: then two,And three, and four, and more towering above us:521But whether poised upon the leaden seaThey stood, or floated in the misty air,That baffling our best vision held entangledThe silver of the half-awakened sun,Or whether near or far, we could not tell,Nor what: at first I thought them rocks, but ereThat error could be told, they were upon usBearing down swiftly athwart our course; and allSaw ’twas a fleet of ships, not three or four530Now, but unnumber’d: like a floating city,If such could be, with walls and battlementsSpread on the wondering water: and now the sunBroke thro’ the haze, and from the shields outhungBlazed back his dazzling beams, and round their prowsOn the divided water played; as stillThey rode the tide in silence, all their oarsStretched out aloft, as are the balanced wingsOf storm-fowl, which returned from battling flightAcross the sea, steady their aching plumes540And skim along the shuddering cliffs at ease:So came they gliding on the sullen plain,Out of the dark, in silent state, by forceYet unexpended of their nightlong speed.Those were the Cretan ships, who when they saw usHailed for a pilot, and of our native sailorsTook one aboard, and dipping all their oarsPassed on, and we with them, into the bay.Then from all round, where the dark hulls were mooredAgainst the shore, and from the tents above550A shout of joy went up, re-echoingFrom point to point; and we too cheered and caughtThe zeal of that great gathering.—Where man is metThe gods will come; or shall I say man’s spiritHath operative faculties to mixAnd make his gods at will? Howe’er that be,Soon a swift galley shot out from the restTo meet the comers. That was Agamemnon’s,They told me; and I doubt not he was in it,And gave his welcome to Idomeneus,560And took him to his tent. On such a dayOur little boat rowed where we would unmarked:We were but Chalcian pilots. So I sawWhate’er I wished to see, and came awayAcross the strait that night, and the next dayWas home by sundown.

Lyc.Nay,500

Nor yet at Aulis: but the tale thou tellest

Coming unto my ears a month ago,

Some of my lords and I one idle morn

Crossed to Eubœa,—’tis a pleasure trip,

On a clear day scarce out of sight of home—

We landed ’neath Œchalia by noon,

And, crossing o’er the isle on mules, were lodged

That night at Chalcis. The next day at dawn

I played the spy. ’Twas such a breathless morning

When all the sound and motion of the sea

Is short and sullen, like a dreaming beast:

Or as ’twere mixed of heavier elements

Than the bright water, that obeys the wind.

Hiring a fishing-boat we bade the sailors

Row us to Aulis; when midway the straits,

The morning mist lifted, and lo, a sight

Unpicturable.—High upon our left

Where we supposed was nothing, suddenly

A tall and shadowy figure loomed: then two,

And three, and four, and more towering above us:

But whether poised upon the leaden sea

They stood, or floated in the misty air,

That baffling our best vision held entangled

The silver of the half-awakened sun,

Or whether near or far, we could not tell,

Nor what: at first I thought them rocks, but ere

That error could be told, they were upon us

Bearing down swiftly athwart our course; and all

Saw ’twas a fleet of ships, not three or four

Now, but unnumber’d: like a floating city,

If such could be, with walls and battlements

Spread on the wondering water: and now the sun

Broke thro’ the haze, and from the shields outhung

Blazed back his dazzling beams, and round their prows

On the divided water played; as still

They rode the tide in silence, all their oars

Stretched out aloft, as are the balanced wings

Of storm-fowl, which returned from battling flight

Across the sea, steady their aching plumes

And skim along the shuddering cliffs at ease:

So came they gliding on the sullen plain,

Out of the dark, in silent state, by force

Yet unexpended of their nightlong speed.

Those were the Cretan ships, who when they saw us

Hailed for a pilot, and of our native sailors

Took one aboard, and dipping all their oars

Passed on, and we with them, into the bay.

Then from all round, where the dark hulls were moored

Against the shore, and from the tents above

A shout of joy went up, re-echoing

From point to point; and we too cheered and caught

The zeal of that great gathering.—Where man is met

The gods will come; or shall I say man’s spirit

Hath operative faculties to mix

And make his gods at will? Howe’er that be,

Soon a swift galley shot out from the rest

To meet the comers. That was Agamemnon’s,

They told me; and I doubt not he was in it,

And gave his welcome to Idomeneus,

And took him to his tent. On such a day

Our little boat rowed where we would unmarked:

We were but Chalcian pilots. So I saw

Whate’er I wished to see, and came away

Across the strait that night, and the next day

Was home by sundown.

Ab.All this could you seeWithout the wish to join?

Ab.All this could you see

Without the wish to join?

Lyc.I say not that;For wish I did that I was young again.Then, sir, I would have left whate’er I had,My kingdom to another, for the pride,570Of high place in such war; now I am old.

Lyc.I say not that;

For wish I did that I was young again.

Then, sir, I would have left whate’er I had,

My kingdom to another, for the pride,

Of high place in such war; now I am old.

Ab.But older men than thou have joined us, sire.War needs experience.

Ab.But older men than thou have joined us, sire.

War needs experience.

Lyc.Concerning warI am divided in opinion, Abas:But lean to think it hath a wholesome rootSupportive to our earthly habit. I seeThe noblest beasts will love to fight, and manIs body as well as spirit: his mind that’s setIn judgment o’er those twain must oft admitThe grosser part hath a preponderant claim.580But I regret this, and my discontentPuts me this question, Shall man never comeTo a better state with his desire? What think you?What if our race yet young should with the timeThrow off the baser passions, as I findMyself by age affected? I know not ...I have a little statue in my house,Which, if you look on’t long, begets beliefOf absolute perfectionment; the artistShould have been present when man’s clay was mixed.590Prometheus, or whoever ’twas that made us,Had his head turned with natural history:All excellent contrivance, but betrayingCommonness and complexity. Well! well!No need of my philosophies in Scyros—War must have motive, and the men I ruleAre simple and contented with their lot.None in my land would wish an atom changed:Were even Achilles here ’twould be no wonderIf he had caught our temper.

Lyc.Concerning war

I am divided in opinion, Abas:

But lean to think it hath a wholesome root

Supportive to our earthly habit. I see

The noblest beasts will love to fight, and man

Is body as well as spirit: his mind that’s set

In judgment o’er those twain must oft admit

The grosser part hath a preponderant claim.

But I regret this, and my discontent

Puts me this question, Shall man never come

To a better state with his desire? What think you?

What if our race yet young should with the time

Throw off the baser passions, as I find

Myself by age affected? I know not ...

I have a little statue in my house,

Which, if you look on’t long, begets belief

Of absolute perfectionment; the artist

Should have been present when man’s clay was mixed.

Prometheus, or whoever ’twas that made us,

Had his head turned with natural history:

All excellent contrivance, but betraying

Commonness and complexity. Well! well!

No need of my philosophies in Scyros—

War must have motive, and the men I rule

Are simple and contented with their lot.

None in my land would wish an atom changed:

Were even Achilles here ’twould be no wonder

If he had caught our temper.

Ab.All men witness600To thy good rule, O king: but in the warsFame may be won.

Ab.All men witness

To thy good rule, O king: but in the wars

Fame may be won.

Lyc.Nor do I ask for fame.Come that to whom it will; to Agamemnon,To Ajax or Ulysses or Achilles.

Lyc.Nor do I ask for fame.

Come that to whom it will; to Agamemnon,

To Ajax or Ulysses or Achilles.

Ab.To Achilles no: ’tis not in the gods’ graceTo succour pigritude. To him, a lad,The prize of honour above all the GreeksWas offered: by the poor effeminacyWith which he hath rejected it, he is judgedMeanest of all. But since we cannot win610Without him, we must have him. Little gloryTo him, except to be Fate’s dullest tool.

Ab.To Achilles no: ’tis not in the gods’ grace

To succour pigritude. To him, a lad,

The prize of honour above all the Greeks

Was offered: by the poor effeminacy

With which he hath rejected it, he is judged

Meanest of all. But since we cannot win

Without him, we must have him. Little glory

To him, except to be Fate’s dullest tool.

Lyc.Maybe. Now come we on. I had thought to findMy daughter and her train. I’ll take thee roundAnother way to the palace: thither no doubtShe is now returned.[Exeunt.

Lyc.Maybe. Now come we on. I had thought to find

My daughter and her train. I’ll take thee round

Another way to the palace: thither no doubt

She is now returned.[Exeunt.

Enter Achilles from the bushes.

Ach.Villain, I thank the gods that sent thee hither.But thou wast near thy death. Walk off secure,Not knowing that I heard.Effeminate!The meanest of the Greeks!were he the best,620I’d slay him in this garment. Yet he is butA tongue to troll opinion of me, a slave,Fetcher and carrier of others’ tales, and dothThe drudgery honestly; for that I’ll thank himAnd profit by his slander. Ay, so I’ll do—Now in good time—I’ll get me a man’s dressAnd meet them here, ere they suspect me:—or, stay!I can outwit them better. I’ll take a boat,Cross o’er to Aulis, like good Lycomede,This very night, and there to Agamemnon630Declare myself; and men shall never knowHow I was hid, nor whence I came.

Ach.Villain, I thank the gods that sent thee hither.

But thou wast near thy death. Walk off secure,

Not knowing that I heard.Effeminate!

The meanest of the Greeks!were he the best,

I’d slay him in this garment. Yet he is but

A tongue to troll opinion of me, a slave,

Fetcher and carrier of others’ tales, and doth

The drudgery honestly; for that I’ll thank him

And profit by his slander. Ay, so I’ll do—

Now in good time—I’ll get me a man’s dress

And meet them here, ere they suspect me:—or, stay!

I can outwit them better. I’ll take a boat,

Cross o’er to Aulis, like good Lycomede,

This very night, and there to Agamemnon

Declare myself; and men shall never know

How I was hid, nor whence I came.

Enter Thetis.

Th.My son!

Ach.My goddess mother, welcome! yet I am shamedThat thou shouldst find me thus.

Ach.My goddess mother, welcome! yet I am shamed

That thou shouldst find me thus.

Th.How art thou shamed?

Ach.This dress. O thou canst help me: thou art readyAt every need. And here hath been a manWho, thinking not I heard, spake to the kingOf thy Achilles with such scorn, that IShould have leaped forth upon him in my rage,And strangled him, but that he seemed to be640Another’s servant.

Ach.This dress. O thou canst help me: thou art ready

At every need. And here hath been a man

Who, thinking not I heard, spake to the king

Of thy Achilles with such scorn, that I

Should have leaped forth upon him in my rage,

And strangled him, but that he seemed to be

Another’s servant.

Th.Then thou hast seen them, son?

Ach.Who are they?

Th.Those I came to warn thee of;Ulysses and his friends. Knowst thou ’tis theyAre come unto the isle to seek thee?

Th.Those I came to warn thee of;

Ulysses and his friends. Knowst thou ’tis they

Are come unto the isle to seek thee?

Ach.Ay.But thou art ready to outwit their wile.As thou didst bring me hither on that nightWhen all thy nymphs, assembling ’neath the moonUpon the Achæan shore, bore me awayAcross the sea, even so to Aulis nowConvey me secretly, and set me there,Ere men know whence I come.

Ach.Ay.

But thou art ready to outwit their wile.

As thou didst bring me hither on that night

When all thy nymphs, assembling ’neath the moon

Upon the Achæan shore, bore me away

Across the sea, even so to Aulis now

Convey me secretly, and set me there,

Ere men know whence I come.

Th.What hear I, son?650To Aulis? to thy foes?

Th.What hear I, son?650

To Aulis? to thy foes?

Ach.A thousand shipsMoored idle in the bay wait but for me:And round the shore the captains of the GreeksImpatient in their tents but call for me.Be they my foes to speak or wish me ill,’Tis only that I come not. I must go.

Ach.A thousand ships

Moored idle in the bay wait but for me:

And round the shore the captains of the Greeks

Impatient in their tents but call for me.

Be they my foes to speak or wish me ill,

’Tis only that I come not. I must go.

Th.There let them tarry till the sea-worm boreTheir ships to rottenness; or, sail they forth,Let them be butchered by the sword of Hector,660Ere thou be snared to serve their empty pride.

Th.There let them tarry till the sea-worm bore

Their ships to rottenness; or, sail they forth,

Let them be butchered by the sword of Hector,

Ere thou be snared to serve their empty pride.

Ach.But louder than their need my honour calls:Hast thou no thought of this in all thy love?

Ach.But louder than their need my honour calls:

Hast thou no thought of this in all thy love?

Th.Who then is honoured more or more desiredThan thou art now? but they, if once they had thee,Would slight thee, and pretend they were the men.

Th.Who then is honoured more or more desired

Than thou art now? but they, if once they had thee,

Would slight thee, and pretend they were the men.

Ach.But those are honoured best that hear their praise.

Th.Is not high Zeus himself, holding aloof,Worshipped the more? Let the world say of thee,When these have perished, that they went their way670Because the son of Thetis would not aid them.

Th.Is not high Zeus himself, holding aloof,

Worshipped the more? Let the world say of thee,

When these have perished, that they went their way

Because the son of Thetis would not aid them.

Ach.But if ’twere said because he feared to die?

Th.Fearst thou reproach of fear that fearst not death?

Ach.I fear not, but by proof would shun reproach.

Th.Men, son, are what they are; and thou art brave.’Tis asked of poor and questionable spiritsTo prove their worth.

Th.Men, son, are what they are; and thou art brave.

’Tis asked of poor and questionable spirits

To prove their worth.

Ach.I prove myself a coward.

Th.How! when it needed heavenly prayers and tears,The force of duty and a goddess’ willTo keep thee back from death! when all the joys680That I have set about thee, and a loveMore beautiful than Helen’s cannot hold thee!

Th.How! when it needed heavenly prayers and tears,

The force of duty and a goddess’ will

To keep thee back from death! when all the joys

That I have set about thee, and a love

More beautiful than Helen’s cannot hold thee!

Ach.Fate, that from men hideth her pitiless face,Offered to me this kindness, that my willShould be of force in predetermined deeds:Allowing me to take which life I wouldOf two incomparable lots; I everLeaned one way, the other thou; and still at heartI hold to my first choice.

Ach.Fate, that from men hideth her pitiless face,

Offered to me this kindness, that my will

Should be of force in predetermined deeds:

Allowing me to take which life I would

Of two incomparable lots; I ever

Leaned one way, the other thou; and still at heart

I hold to my first choice.

Th.O child of man,Though child of mine, wouldst thou know wisdom’s way,690Learn it of me. If I had said to theeThou being a mortal shouldst love death and darkness;For in the brief date of thy heedless term’Tis vain to strive with evil: and since the endCometh the same, and at the latest comethSo soon, that there’s no difference to be told’Twixt early and late, ’tis wisdom to despair:Then would thy tongue have boldly answered me,And said, Man hath his life; that it must endCondemns it not for nought. Are rivers salt700Because they travel to the bitter sea?Is the day dark because the gorgeous westMust fade in gloom, when the ungazeable sunIs fallen beneath the waves? Or hath the springNo charm in her pavilions, are her floorsNot starred, for that we see her birth is slowOf niggard winter, and her blossoms smirchedBy summer’s tyranny? Hadst thou said this,And that Earth’s changeful pride, the life of man,Is exquisite in such a qualityTo make the high gods envious could they guess:711Then had I found no answer: but when ITold thee of joy, and set thee in the midst,That thou shouldst argue with me that ’tis bestTo die at once, and for an empty namePass to the trivial shades; then must I fearI have as thankless and unwise a son,As disobedient.—Yet when first I taught theeThou gav’st me promise to be wise.

Th.O child of man,

Though child of mine, wouldst thou know wisdom’s way,

Learn it of me. If I had said to thee

Thou being a mortal shouldst love death and darkness;

For in the brief date of thy heedless term

’Tis vain to strive with evil: and since the end

Cometh the same, and at the latest cometh

So soon, that there’s no difference to be told

’Twixt early and late, ’tis wisdom to despair:

Then would thy tongue have boldly answered me,

And said, Man hath his life; that it must end

Condemns it not for nought. Are rivers salt

Because they travel to the bitter sea?

Is the day dark because the gorgeous west

Must fade in gloom, when the ungazeable sun

Is fallen beneath the waves? Or hath the spring

No charm in her pavilions, are her floors

Not starred, for that we see her birth is slow

Of niggard winter, and her blossoms smirched

By summer’s tyranny? Hadst thou said this,

And that Earth’s changeful pride, the life of man,

Is exquisite in such a quality

To make the high gods envious could they guess:

Then had I found no answer: but when I

Told thee of joy, and set thee in the midst,

That thou shouldst argue with me that ’tis best

To die at once, and for an empty name

Pass to the trivial shades; then must I fear

I have as thankless and unwise a son,

As disobedient.—Yet when first I taught thee

Thou gav’st me promise to be wise.

Ach.But neverWilt thou then free me from my promise given?

Ach.But never

Wilt thou then free me from my promise given?

720Th.Not to thy hurt.

Th.Not to thy hurt.

Ach.See now what shame I bear!

Th.Why make so much of shame? If thou despiseThe pleasure of the earth, why not the shame?

Th.Why make so much of shame? If thou despise

The pleasure of the earth, why not the shame?

Ach.I wrong, too, this old king.

Th.His daughter more,If thou desert her.

Th.His daughter more,

If thou desert her.

Ach.But ’twould hurt her lessTo lose me now than know me when disgraced.

Ach.But ’twould hurt her less

To lose me now than know me when disgraced.

Th.I plead not in her name, nor charge thee, son,With loving her in my contempt. A dreamOf mortal fancy or honour may becloudThy mind awhile, but ne’er canst thou forget730Thy bond to me; the care that never left theeTill thou wert out of hand; the love that daredTo send thee from my sight when thou wast able,And to strange lands; my secret visitingsThere, and revisitings; the dreams I sent thee,Warnings of ill, and ecstasies of pride;The thousand miracles I wrought to save thee,And guard thee to thy prime;—and now men sayThou art the first of the Greeks: their homaged kings739The gods condemn to death if thou withholdThy single arm. Why so? What hast thou done?Where have men seen thee? Hast thou ruled like Nestor?Conquered like Agamemnon, fought like Ajax?What is thy prowess, what thy skill but this,That thou art son of Thetis? Disobey not,Nor question now my bidding. Must I kneel,Embrace thy knees, or melt before thy faceIn supplicating tears? O if thy birthDid cost the tenderest tears that god e’er shed,Make not those bitter drops to have flowed in vain.750Whate’er fate portion thee my joy is this—That thou dost love me. Dost thou cease to love,I am most miserable.

Th.I plead not in her name, nor charge thee, son,

With loving her in my contempt. A dream

Of mortal fancy or honour may becloud

Thy mind awhile, but ne’er canst thou forget

Thy bond to me; the care that never left thee

Till thou wert out of hand; the love that dared

To send thee from my sight when thou wast able,

And to strange lands; my secret visitings

There, and revisitings; the dreams I sent thee,

Warnings of ill, and ecstasies of pride;

The thousand miracles I wrought to save thee,

And guard thee to thy prime;—and now men say

Thou art the first of the Greeks: their homaged kings

The gods condemn to death if thou withhold

Thy single arm. Why so? What hast thou done?

Where have men seen thee? Hast thou ruled like Nestor?

Conquered like Agamemnon, fought like Ajax?

What is thy prowess, what thy skill but this,

That thou art son of Thetis? Disobey not,

Nor question now my bidding. Must I kneel,

Embrace thy knees, or melt before thy face

In supplicating tears? O if thy birth

Did cost the tenderest tears that god e’er shed,

Make not those bitter drops to have flowed in vain.

Whate’er fate portion thee my joy is this—

That thou dost love me. Dost thou cease to love,

I am most miserable.

Ach.O fear not that,Mother and goddess! Pardon me, weep not.Let all men curse me, be my name abhorred,Rather than thou be grieved. ’Twas anger moved me:I will forget this, and obey thee. SayWhat I must do, how best avoid these men:And how refuse their call if I be found.

Ach.O fear not that,

Mother and goddess! Pardon me, weep not.

Let all men curse me, be my name abhorred,

Rather than thou be grieved. ’Twas anger moved me:

I will forget this, and obey thee. Say

What I must do, how best avoid these men:

And how refuse their call if I be found.

Th.Kiss me, my son. By the gods’ life, I love thee:760My grief is to deny thee. But there’s needOf counsel, for the day is criticalAnd glides apace. And first if they should find thee,Then ’tis thy fate to go: I cannot stay thee.And since to bear thee hence were sure betrayal,I urge thee to be true to thy disguise.And better to escape thy foes, learn nowWhom most to dread. Of all the Argives shunUlysses; come not near him in the halls;And should he speak to thee, answer no word.770Him thou wilt know by his preëminence:In person he is beardless yet, and smoothOf face and tongue, alluring, gentle in voiceBut sturdy of body, and ’neath his helm his locksO’er a wide brow and restless eye curl forthIn ruddy brown; nor less for his attireNotable is he, wearing the best of all,His linen broidered, and broad jewels to holdA robe of gray and purple.

Th.Kiss me, my son. By the gods’ life, I love thee:

My grief is to deny thee. But there’s need

Of counsel, for the day is critical

And glides apace. And first if they should find thee,

Then ’tis thy fate to go: I cannot stay thee.

And since to bear thee hence were sure betrayal,

I urge thee to be true to thy disguise.

And better to escape thy foes, learn now

Whom most to dread. Of all the Argives shun

Ulysses; come not near him in the halls;

And should he speak to thee, answer no word.

Him thou wilt know by his preëminence:

In person he is beardless yet, and smooth

Of face and tongue, alluring, gentle in voice

But sturdy of body, and ’neath his helm his locks

O’er a wide brow and restless eye curl forth

In ruddy brown; nor less for his attire

Notable is he, wearing the best of all,

His linen broidered, and broad jewels to hold

A robe of gray and purple.

Ach.He shall not spy me.But if by any warning from the gods780He know and call to me, how then to escapeThe shame of this Ionian skirt?

Ach.He shall not spy me.

But if by any warning from the gods

He know and call to me, how then to escape

The shame of this Ionian skirt?

Th.That chanceI can provide for, and shall give thee nowA magic garment fitting to thy body,Which worn beneath thy robe will seem as weftOf linen thread, but if it meet the light’Twill be a gilded armour, and serve wellIn proof as show. Come, I will set it on thee.[Exeunt.

Th.That chance

I can provide for, and shall give thee now

A magic garment fitting to thy body,

Which worn beneath thy robe will seem as weft

Of linen thread, but if it meet the light

’Twill be a gilded armour, and serve well

In proof as show. Come, I will set it on thee.

[Exeunt.

Enter Deidamia and Chorus.

Deid.The ground is clear, we have deceived them mightily,Running around.

Deid.The ground is clear, we have deceived them mightily,

Running around.

Ch.Where is our queen?

(2)Not here.

Deid.I’ll call her. Pyrrha!—Call all together.

Ch.Pyrrha!

Deid.She will come presently.—Did ye not mark792How resonant this glade is? that our voicesNeither return nor fly, but stay about us?It is the trunks of the trees that cage the sound;As in an open temple, where the pillarsEnrich the music. In my father’s hallThe echo of each note burdens the next.’Twould be well done to cut a theatreDeep in some wooded dale. Till Pyrrha come,Alexia, sing thou here.

Deid.She will come presently.—Did ye not mark

How resonant this glade is? that our voices

Neither return nor fly, but stay about us?

It is the trunks of the trees that cage the sound;

As in an open temple, where the pillars

Enrich the music. In my father’s hall

The echo of each note burdens the next.

’Twould be well done to cut a theatre

Deep in some wooded dale. Till Pyrrha come,

Alexia, sing thou here.

Ch.What shall I sing?800

Deid.There is a Lydian chant I call to mindIn honour of music-makers: it beginnethWith praise of the soft spring, and heavenly love—’Twill suit our mood, if thou remember it.

Deid.There is a Lydian chant I call to mind

In honour of music-makers: it beginneth

With praise of the soft spring, and heavenly love—

’Twill suit our mood, if thou remember it.

Chorus.

The earth loveth the spring,Nor of her coming despaireth,Withheld by nightly sting,Snow, and icy fling,The snarl of the North:But nevertheless she prepareth810And setteth in order her nurselings to bring them forth,The jewels of her delight,What shall be blue, what yellow or white;What softest above the rest,The primrose, that loveth bestWoodland skirts and the copses shorn.

The earth loveth the spring,

Nor of her coming despaireth,

Withheld by nightly sting,

Snow, and icy fling,

The snarl of the North:

But nevertheless she prepareth810

And setteth in order her nurselings to bring them forth,

The jewels of her delight,

What shall be blue, what yellow or white;

What softest above the rest,

The primrose, that loveth best

Woodland skirts and the copses shorn.

And on the day of relenting she suddenly wearethHer budding crowns. O then, in the early morn,Is any song that comparethWith the gaiety of birds, that thrill the gladdened airIn inexhaustible chorus821To awake the sons of the soilWith music more than in brilliant halls sonorous(—It cannot compare—)Is fed to the ears of kingsFrom the reeds and hirèd strings?For love maketh them glad;And if a soul be sad,Or a heart oracle dumb,830Here may it taste the promise of joy to come.

And on the day of relenting she suddenly weareth

Her budding crowns. O then, in the early morn,

Is any song that compareth

With the gaiety of birds, that thrill the gladdened air

In inexhaustible chorus821

To awake the sons of the soil

With music more than in brilliant halls sonorous

(—It cannot compare—)

Is fed to the ears of kings

From the reeds and hirèd strings?

For love maketh them glad;

And if a soul be sad,

Or a heart oracle dumb,

Here may it taste the promise of joy to come.

For the Earth knoweth the love which made her,The omnipotent one desire,Which burns at her heart like fire,And hath in gladness arrayed her.And man with the Maker shareth,Him also to rival throughout the lands,To make a work with his handsAnd have his children adore it:The Creator smileth on him who is wise and darethIn understanding with pride:840For God, where’er he hath builded, dwelleth wide,—And he careth,—To set a task to the smallest atom,The law-abiding grains,That hearken each and rejoice:For he guideth the world as a horse with reins;It obeyeth his voice,And lo! he hath set a beautiful end before it:

For the Earth knoweth the love which made her,

The omnipotent one desire,

Which burns at her heart like fire,

And hath in gladness arrayed her.

And man with the Maker shareth,

Him also to rival throughout the lands,

To make a work with his hands

And have his children adore it:

The Creator smileth on him who is wise and dareth

In understanding with pride:840

For God, where’er he hath builded, dwelleth wide,—

And he careth,—

To set a task to the smallest atom,

The law-abiding grains,

That hearken each and rejoice:

For he guideth the world as a horse with reins;

It obeyeth his voice,

And lo! he hath set a beautiful end before it:

Whereto it leapeth and striveth continually,And pitieth nought, nor spareth:850The mother’s wail for her children slain,The stain of disease,The darts of pain,The waste of the fruits of trees,The slaughter of cattle,Unbrotherly lust, the warOf hunger, blood, and the yells of battle,It heedeth no moreThan a carver regardeth the wood that he cutteth away:The grainèd shavings fall at his feet,860But that which his tool hath spared shall standFor men to praise the work of his hand;For he cutteth so far, and there it lay,And his work is complete.

Whereto it leapeth and striveth continually,

And pitieth nought, nor spareth:850

The mother’s wail for her children slain,

The stain of disease,

The darts of pain,

The waste of the fruits of trees,

The slaughter of cattle,

Unbrotherly lust, the war

Of hunger, blood, and the yells of battle,

It heedeth no more

Than a carver regardeth the wood that he cutteth away:

The grainèd shavings fall at his feet,860

But that which his tool hath spared shall stand

For men to praise the work of his hand;

For he cutteth so far, and there it lay,

And his work is complete.

But I will praise ’mong men the masters of mindIn music and song,Who follow the love of God to bless their kind:And I pray they findA marriage of mirth—And a life long870With the gaiety of the Earth.

But I will praise ’mong men the masters of mind

In music and song,

Who follow the love of God to bless their kind:

And I pray they find

A marriage of mirth—

And a life long870

With the gaiety of the Earth.

Ch.There stands an old man down beneath the bank,Gazing, and beckoning to us.

Ch.There stands an old man down beneath the bank,

Gazing, and beckoning to us.

Deid.He is a stranger,That burdened with some package to the palaceHath missed his way about, and fears to intrude.Go some and show him.[Some run out.Meanwhile what do we?We have no sport when Pyrrha is away.Our game is broken. Come, a thought, a thought!Hath none a thought?

Deid.He is a stranger,

That burdened with some package to the palace

Hath missed his way about, and fears to intrude.

Go some and show him.[Some run out.

Meanwhile what do we?

We have no sport when Pyrrha is away.

Our game is broken. Come, a thought, a thought!

Hath none a thought?

Ch.We have never built the bower.

Deid.Ye idled gathering flowers. Now ’tis too late.

Ch.Let us play ball.

Deid.The sun is still so high.881I shall go feed my doves.

Deid.The sun is still so high.881

I shall go feed my doves.

(Re-enter one of Chorus.)

Ch.The old man saithThat he is a pedlar, and hath wares to sellIf he may show them. Shall he come?

Ch.The old man saith

That he is a pedlar, and hath wares to sell

If he may show them. Shall he come?

Deid.Now Hermes,The father of device and jugglery,Be thanked for this; ’tis he hath sent him.—Call him.His tales may be good hearing, tho’ his packRepay not search. But be advised: beware,Lest he bear off more than he bring: these fellows890Have fingers to unclasp a brooch or pinWhile the eye winks that watches. There was oneWho as he ran a race would steal the shoesOf any that ran with him. The prince of allWas merry Autolycus.

Deid.Now Hermes,

The father of device and jugglery,

Be thanked for this; ’tis he hath sent him.—Call him.

His tales may be good hearing, tho’ his pack

Repay not search. But be advised: beware,

Lest he bear off more than he bring: these fellows

Have fingers to unclasp a brooch or pin

While the eye winks that watches. There was one

Who as he ran a race would steal the shoes

Of any that ran with him. The prince of all

Was merry Autolycus.

Enter, with those who had gone out, Ulysses as a pedlar.

Good day, old man.Come, let us see thy wares.

Good day, old man.

Come, let us see thy wares.

Ul.I have no breath left,Wherewith to thank you, ladies; the little hillHas ta’en it from me.

Ul.I have no breath left,

Wherewith to thank you, ladies; the little hill

Has ta’en it from me.

Deid.Rest awhile, and tell usWhence thou art come.

Deid.Rest awhile, and tell us

Whence thou art come.

Ul.In a Greek ship this morn.I pray you, that I lack not courtesy,Art thou the princess of this isle?

Ul.In a Greek ship this morn.

I pray you, that I lack not courtesy,

Art thou the princess of this isle?

Deid.I am.900

Ul.My true and humble service to your highness.

Deid.In turn say who art thou, and whence thy ship.

Ul.Fair, honoured daughter of a famous king,I have no story worthy of thine ear,Being but a poor artificer of Smyrna,Where many years I wrought, and ye shall seeNot without skill, in silver and in gold.But happiness hath wrecked me, and I say’Tis ill to marry young; for from that joy910I gat a son, who as the time went on,Grew to be old and gray and wise as I;And bettering much the art which I had taught himLonged to be master in my place, for whichHe grew unkind, and his sons hated me:And when one day he wished me dead, I fearedLest I should kill myself; and so that nightI made me up a pack of little thingsHe should not grieve for, and took ship for Greece.There have I trafficked, lady, a year and more,920And kept myself alive hawking small wareFrom place to place, and on occasion foundA market for my jewels, and be come hereMaking the round of the isles in any shipThat chances: and this last I came aboardAt Andros, where I was: but whence she hailedI have even forgot. May it please thee see my wares?

Ul.Fair, honoured daughter of a famous king,

I have no story worthy of thine ear,

Being but a poor artificer of Smyrna,

Where many years I wrought, and ye shall see

Not without skill, in silver and in gold.

But happiness hath wrecked me, and I say

’Tis ill to marry young; for from that joy

I gat a son, who as the time went on,

Grew to be old and gray and wise as I;

And bettering much the art which I had taught him

Longed to be master in my place, for which

He grew unkind, and his sons hated me:

And when one day he wished me dead, I feared

Lest I should kill myself; and so that night

I made me up a pack of little things

He should not grieve for, and took ship for Greece.

There have I trafficked, lady, a year and more,

And kept myself alive hawking small ware

From place to place, and on occasion found

A market for my jewels, and be come here

Making the round of the isles in any ship

That chances: and this last I came aboard

At Andros, where I was: but whence she hailed

I have even forgot. May it please thee see my wares?

Deid.Thy tale is very sad. I am sorry for thee.Why would thy son, being as thou sayst so skilled,Not ply his trade apart?

Deid.Thy tale is very sad. I am sorry for thee.

Why would thy son, being as thou sayst so skilled,

Not ply his trade apart?

Ul.My house in Smyrna930Was head of all the goldsmiths: ’twas for that,Lady, he envied me. See now my wares.

Ul.My house in Smyrna

Was head of all the goldsmiths: ’twas for that,

Lady, he envied me. See now my wares.

Deid.What beauteous work! I’m glad thou’rt come. I’ll buyA trinket for myself, and let my maidsChoose each what she may fancy. Hear ye, girls?I’ll make a gift to each.

Deid.What beauteous work! I’m glad thou’rt come. I’ll buy

A trinket for myself, and let my maids

Choose each what she may fancy. Hear ye, girls?

I’ll make a gift to each.

Ch.O thanks.—To all?—And may we choose?

Ch.O thanks.—To all?—

And may we choose?

Deid.Yes.

Ch.Anything we please?

Deid.Why, that is choosing.

Ch.O we thank thee.

Ul.NowI see, princess, thou’rt of a bounteous blood,To make all round thee happy.

Ul.Now

I see, princess, thou’rt of a bounteous blood,

To make all round thee happy.

Deid.What is this brooch?

Ul.If for thyself thou fancy a brooch, I’ll show thee941The best jewel in my box, and not be shamedTo say I have no better.

Ul.If for thyself thou fancy a brooch, I’ll show thee

The best jewel in my box, and not be shamed

To say I have no better.

Ch.See, oh, see!What lovely things!—A rare old man!

Ch.See, oh, see!

What lovely things!—A rare old man!

Ul.Here ’tis.What thinkest thou?

Ul.Here ’tis.

What thinkest thou?

Deid.Is’t not a ruby?

Ul.And fine!

Deid.I think thy son will have missed this.

Ul.Nay, lady:I had it of a sailor, who, poor fool,Knew not its worth; and thou mayst buy it of meFor half its value.

Ul.Nay, lady:

I had it of a sailor, who, poor fool,

Knew not its worth; and thou mayst buy it of me

For half its value.

Deid.May I take these twoTo view them nearly?

Deid.May I take these two

To view them nearly?

Ul.All take as ye will.Ye do me honour, ladies.

Ul.All take as ye will.

Ye do me honour, ladies.

Deid.Hear ye, girls,950Make each her choice. I will o’erlook your tasteWhen all is done.

Deid.Hear ye, girls,950

Make each her choice. I will o’erlook your taste

When all is done.

Ul.Come, buy my wares: come buy.Come, come buy; I’ve wares for all,Were ye each and all princesses.Clasps and brooches, large and small,Handy for holding your flowing dresses.

Ul.Come, buy my wares: come buy.

Come, come buy; I’ve wares for all,

Were ye each and all princesses.

Clasps and brooches, large and small,

Handy for holding your flowing dresses.

Ch.What is this little box for?

Ul.Open it.

Ch.What is this vial?

Ul.Smell it. Buy, come buy!Charms for lovers, charms to break,Charms to bind them to you wholly.960Medicines fit for every ache,Fever and fanciful melancholy.

Ul.Smell it. Buy, come buy!

Charms for lovers, charms to break,

Charms to bind them to you wholly.960

Medicines fit for every ache,

Fever and fanciful melancholy.

Ch.O smell this scent.—Here be fine pins.—See this!

Ul.(aside). I spy none here to match my notion yet.

Ch.I have found amber beads.—What is it is tiedIn little packets?

Ch.I have found amber beads.—What is it is tied

In little packets?

Ul.Toilet secrets those,Perfumes, and rare cosmetics ’gainst decay.

Ul.Toilet secrets those,

Perfumes, and rare cosmetics ’gainst decay.

Deid.(to one apart). Alexia, see. I will buy this for Pyrrha.’Tis pity she is not here. What thinkest thou of it?970He said it was his best. This other oneI’ll give to thee if thou find nothing better.Go see. I will seek Pyrrha.[Exit.

Deid.(to one apart). Alexia, see. I will buy this for Pyrrha.

’Tis pity she is not here. What thinkest thou of it?

He said it was his best. This other one

I’ll give to thee if thou find nothing better.

Go see. I will seek Pyrrha.[Exit.

Ul.Buy, come buy!Tassels, fringes, silken strings,Girdles, ties, and Asian pockets,Armlets, necklaces and rings,Images, amulets, lovers’ lockets.

Ul.Buy, come buy!

Tassels, fringes, silken strings,

Girdles, ties, and Asian pockets,

Armlets, necklaces and rings,

Images, amulets, lovers’ lockets.

Ch.Pray, what are these, good man?

Ul.Of soft doe-skinThese gilded thongs are made for dancers’ wear,To tie their sandals.

Ul.Of soft doe-skin

These gilded thongs are made for dancers’ wear,

To tie their sandals.

Ch.And is this a pin,This golden grasshopper?

Ch.And is this a pin,

This golden grasshopper?

Ul.Ay, for the hair.980The Athenian ladies use nought else. See hereThis little cup.

Ul.Ay, for the hair.980

The Athenian ladies use nought else. See here

This little cup.

Ch.Didst thou make that?

Ul.Nay, ladies.

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