The Mortal Gods and Other Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_Amen._ And now repents that love, for know you, sir, Though men may be irreverent as they choose, They'll follow only who revere their G.o.ds.
[_Exeunt senators_]
_Cre._ But you were meek!
_Bia._ If I had let them know I've yet a tongue, they might have had that too, And in the courts where I must sue for love 'Twill be my royal member,--all my suite And kingly plenitude.
_Cre._ They will repent.
_Bia._ On knees, sir! Banished! O, my heart could lend Hot Sirius fire!
_Cre._ You! Banished!
_Bia._ Nay, while sense From wit and speech are undivorced, and courage Knits them in purpose drinking up the seas That distance me from Athens, who shall say I'm banished? Bribe mankind and nature too, Ye bleary senators! Suborn the winds!
Put me at end of farthest watery leagues!
While there's no rift between me and my G.o.ds, I'll shake this night as from Apollo's brow And show my day emergent!
_Cre._ Where wilt go?
_Bia._ To Persia first, where I am dear to Phernes.
And then, perchance, with Persia at my back, Sparta may find me fair, though now I'm black As Pluto's poker. We'll not flag, my heart, Till every fleet o' the world rides here and makes This saucy harbor tremble! What an ague then Shall shake thee, Athens, thinking on this hour!
[_Curtain_]
ACT III
SCENE: _The a.s.sembly ground of the Spartans. Maidens discovered. A dance is ending._
_Nac._ We limped through that. Apollo! Are there thorns I' the gra.s.s? We'll better it. Come!
_Dia._ No time. I hear The senators.
_Nac._ They wait beyond the bridge For old Aristogeiton. Come, my maids!
You, Dianessa need to school your toes.
'Twas you played wild-foot--twice!
_Art._ Save her a slip When Agis' eye is on her!
_Nac._ Faith, she'd be No bride this year!
_Dia._ What ache for that? His love Is slight if 't hangs upon my toes.
_Nac._ My troth!
Less might catch more!
_Dia._ You, Nacia, are not so lithe As a ferret in a hoop. An Athens maid Might labor so in all her skirts.
_Nac._ Ho, ho!
A little puff blow such a fire? The coals Were hot then!
_Myr._ Nay, my girls, we'll douse you both I' the river yonder if you flame at naught.
How, Dianessa, dance the maids of Athens?
But surely not in skirts!
_Dia._ My father saw them, And so he said.
_Myr._ Why dance at all then? Grace That cadent girdles the invisible waves Of flute and harp is born of faining limbs, And hide them who may see it?
_The._ No doubt they bob Like bears in blankets, and believe they dance.
_Nac._ Pyrrha could say. But since she came from Athens Who hears her speak?
_Art._ She keeps from all our games, And scorns the wrestle, though our n.o.blest youths Have sent her challenge.
_The._ Ay! Lets Dianessa wear The vestal bays, nor cares if Hieron Be there to see.
_Myr._ Come, Pyrrha, tell us how The Athenian maidens dance with shrouded feet.
_Pyrr._ They wear their robes as Morning does the mist That makes her beauty greater and her dream Live on in men.
_Dia._ Ah, maidens, here's a tale For the other ear.
_Pyrr._ The bare and brazen sun That's up without a cloud, cheers to the hunt, The fight, the bruited path,--makes careful dames Send linen to the ford, and say "Zeus grant, We'll air the beds!"
_Nac._ Ay, wives must know their season.
_Pyrr._ But let night-swimming Morn come up In foamy veil, and her priest-hearted rose Stays l.u.s.ty feet and gives adventure's hour To the achieving soul.
_Art._ What kin is this To th' matter?
_Pyrr._ Why, Artante, when we dance Half naked as we do before the youths, They say of us "A bed-mate there, and strong To bear and breed brave warriors for my house."
But they in Athens who so watch the dance, See sheatheless Being s.h.i.+ne through form that would, Not softened thus, first fill the ruder eye And leave unseen the token of a grace Earth may not shadow.
_Dia._ Nay, you speak Athenian!
Let's have it in our tongue.
_Nac._ What grace can be So badgered in a gown?
_Pyrr._ Ask flying doves, That rhythm the air till it doth ache with loss When they have pa.s.sed. So have these maidens taught The silken fold to be their winged part.
_Myr._ Ask her no more. Alack, our Pyrrha drank Of charmed Ilissus,--must go back to Athens!
_Nac._ But come! Our dance! We yet are Spartan maids.
