Alcestis Part 9

Go! Leave me with my dead.... Out from my mind!

PHERES.

I go. Bury the woman thou hast slain....

Her kinsmen yet may come to thee with plain Question. Acastus hath small place in good Men, if he care not for his sister's blood.

[PHERES _goes off, with his Attendants_. ADMETUS _calls after him as he goes._]

ADMETUS.

Begone, begone, thou and thy bitter mate!

Be old and childless--ye have earned your fate-- While your son lives! For never shall ye be From henceforth under the same roof with me....

Must I send heralds and a trumpet's call To abjure thy blood? Fear not, I will send them all....

[PHERES _is now out of sight;_ ADMETUS _drops his defiance and seems like a broken man._]

But we--our sorrow is upon us; come With me, and let us bear her to the tomb.

CHORUS.

Ah me!

Farewell, unfalteringly brave!

Farewell, thou generous heart and true!

May Pluto give thee welcome due, And Hermes love thee in the grave.

Whate'er of blessed life there be For high souls to the darkness flown, Be thine for ever, and a throne Beside the crowned Persephone.

[_The funeral procession has formed and moves slowly out, followed by_ ADMETUS _and the_ CHORUS. _The stage is left empty, till a side door of the Castle opens and there comes out a_ SERVANT, _angry and almost in tears._]

SERVANT.

Full many a stranger and from many a land Hath lodged in this old castle, and my hand Served them; but never has there pa.s.sed this way A scurvier ruffian than our guest to-day.

He saw my master's grief, but all the more In he must come, and shoulders through the door.

And after, think you he would mannerly Take what was set before him? No, not he!

If, on this day of trouble, we left out Some small thing, he must have it with a shout.

Up, in both hands, our vat of ivy-wood He raised, and drank the dark grape's burning blood, Strong and untempered, till the fire was red Within him; then put myrtle round his head And roared some noisy song. So had we there Discordant music. He, without a care For all the affliction of Admetus' halls, Sang on; and, listening, one could hear the thralls In the long gallery weeping for the dead.

We let him see no tears. Our master made That order, that the stranger must not know.

So here I wait in her own house, and do Service to some black thief, some man of prey; And she has gone, has gone for ever away.

I never followed her, nor lifted high My hand to bless her; never said good-bye....

I loved her like my mother. So did all The slaves. She never let his anger fall Too hard. She saved us alway.... And this wild beast Comes in our sorrow when we need him least!

[_During the last few lines_ HERACLES _has entered, unperceived by the_ SERVANT. _He has evidently bathed and changed his garments and drunk his fill, and is now revelling, a garland of flowers on his head. He frightens the_ SERVANT _a little from time to time during the following speech._]

HERACLES.

Friend, why so solemn and so cranky-eyed?

'Tis not a henchman's office, to show pride To his betters. He should smile and make good cheer.

There comes a guest, thy lord's old comrade, here; And thou art all knitted eyebrows, scowls and head Bent, because somebody, forsooth, is dead!

Come close! I mean to make thee wiser.

[_The_ SERVANT _reluctantly comes close._]

So.

Dost comprehend things mortal, how they grow?...

(_To himself_) I suppose not. How could he?...

Look this way!

Death is a debt all mortal men must pay; Aye, there is no man living who can say If life will last him yet a single day.

On, to the dark, drives Fortune; and no force Can wrest her secret nor put back her course....

I have told thee now. I have taught thee. After this Eat, drink, make thyself merry. Count the bliss Of the one pa.s.sing hour thine own; the rest Is Fortune's. And give honour chiefliest To our lady Cypris, giver of all joys To man. 'Tis a sweet G.o.ddess. Otherwise, Let all these questions sleep and just obey My counsel.... Thou believest all I say?

I hope so.... Let this stupid grieving be; Rise up above thy troubles, and with me Drink in a cloud of blossoms. By my soul, I vow the sweet plash-music of the bowl Will break thy glumness, loose thee from the frown Within. Let mortal man keep to his own Mortality, and not expect too much.

To all your solemn dogs and other such Scowlers--I tell thee truth, no more nor less-- Life is not life, but just unhappiness.

[_He offers the wine-bowl to the_ SERVANT, _who avoids it_.]

SERVANT.

We know all this. But now our fortunes be Not such as ask for mirth or revelry.

HERACLES.

A woman dead, of no one's kin; why grieve So much? Thy master and thy mistress live.

SERVANT.

Live? Man, hast thou heard nothing of our woe?

HERACLES.

Yes, thy lord told me all I need to know.

SERVANT.

He is too kind to his guests, more kind than wise.

HERACLES.

Must I go starved because some stranger dies?

SERVANT.

Some stranger?--Yes, a stranger verily!

HERACLES (_his manner beginning to change_).

Is this some real grief he hath hid from me?

SERVANT.

Go, drink, man! Leave to us our master's woes.

HERACLES.

It sounds not like a stranger. Yet, G.o.d knows...

SERVANT.

How should thy revelling hurt, if that were all?

HERACLES.

Hath mine own friend so wronged me in his hall?

SERVANT.

Thou camest at an hour when none was free To accept thee. We were mourning. Thou canst see Our hair, black robes...

HERACLES (_suddenly, in a voice of thunder_).

Who is it that is dead?