ACT I
Scene: Pelagon's garden, Athens. Wall, rear, shutting off street. Upper right, path to street gate. Upper and middle left, entrances to Pelagon's house. Lower left, path to a neighbor's dwelling. Lower right, path leading deeper into garden.
[Enter, upper left, Pelagon, Stesilaus and Lysander]
Lys. A gracious senate! If such welcome keys
The tune to come, then our ambassadry
Is concord's instrument, and we may bear
Fair music back to Sparta.
Ste. Tut, the smiles
Of Athens are as flying leaves, divorced
From the tree's heart, as apt to light
On vagrancy as merit.
Pel. Stesilaus
Bears hard as truth. Yet I was warmed to note
The council's greeting.
Ste. Ever Sparta's friend!
Pel. And friend of peace. The age no more can bear
The locked alarum of our rivalling States.
We must the groaning tussle bring to end,
Or ends the world.
Lys. 'Twas wisdom's cue you gave us,—
To say we had our Sparta's sovereign word
For Athens' terms.
Pel. Ay, hold your embassage
Unstrictured, friends. In that lies flattery
Each lord will take to himself and thereon feed
A grace which will, in sort, come back to you.
What hour was fixed for answer? I lost that.
Lys. The last hour of the sun.
Pel. The crier stood
Wrong side of my good ear, and I'll not twist
To set the gossips nudging me to th' grave,
Robbed in a shrug of twenty grizzled years. [Looks about the garden]
Where's Biades? He's always trailing here,
Save in the tick of need. I'd have him bid
The ambassadors lie at my house. Lysander,
You'll be my suitor to your comrades? Say
We've heart and room for all.
Lys. For all, my lord?
Pel. And more!
[Exit Lysander]
Ste. My Sparta thanks you, Pelagon.
Pel. Nay, such an honor shall not pass me, sir.
Now where is Biades?
Ste. Your nephew, friend?
Pel. Ay, Stesilaus. Bar my blood in him,
He'll fasten on your heart.
Ste. Report has been
Too dear his friend. What buzz about a youth
Of twenty-five! Sir, Attica is mad
To give him captainship. In Sparta now,
The spurring callant would be kept in ranks,
And yoked with Prudence till he learned her jog.
Pel. In ranks! I see him! Well, just in your ear,
He sweeps a pretty curvet. With my wife
His slave, and Phania neck-deep in love,
He rides the very comb of my poor house.
If you would say to him, hold here or there,
I'd take it not amiss. But I do love him.
And now a bout with th' cook. The pest sends word
A double score of sudden guests are all
He'll have at table. Mine own table, sir!
Ha, there is Biades! He'll wait upon you.
Pray touch him as I've hinted. But no word
About our daughters, friend. We'll let that lie.
[Exit upper left. Enter Biades upper right]
Bia. Most noble Stesilaus, my heart greets you!
Ste. Greeting to Biades, whom Athens makes
Her general!
Bia. Would, my lord, this dignity
Were laid on senior years. Your Sparta's way
Is best,—to keep the cool, meridian bays
From youth-flushed brows. My moist and charmèd eyes
Spoke inward to my soul when they beheld
The ambassadors before the council, each
With staff unneeded, and gray locks that seemed
As wisdom's holy place.
Ste. You sat with us?
I did not mark you there.
Bia. I kept in modest shadow,
Which is youth's fairest mantle,—though my rank
Moves back for none. But, sir, the Spartan elders!
Ah, might I see more men in Athens who
Thus honor age, and age that honors men!
Ste. Breathe that into your shrines.
Bia. The gods who smile
On folly young, must weep when reverend years
And wisdom part. Mayhap you've noticed, sir,
In my good uncle here ... a falling off.
I would not speak but that I know your eyes
Can not keep curtain when the blabbing sun
Makes it no secret.
Ste. Somewhat I have seen.
Bia. Somewhat will grow to much ere you take leave.
Ste. I fear it, Biades.
Bia. And yet, my lord,
Time has not carried him ahead of you
More years than half a score.
Ste. Tis t'other way.
I'm elder by that much.
Bia. Not you, my lord?
[Muses flatteringly]
The Spartan way is best. Was 't Pelagon
Led you to say you had full power to treat
With Athens?
Ste. It was he.
Bia. I thought it. [Sighs] Sir,
In the Athenian mind there dwells a child
No length of days can age. We do not grow
As Spartans. But our vanity's no dwarf.
Tops with the highest, you've some cause to know.
Ste. What of 't? Unlatch! unlatch!
Bia. The people, sir,
Always our rearward urge, knowing you've power
To assent to all they ask, will ask for more
Than all.
Ste. Think'st that?
Bia. In your brave time you've met
Athenians of the best. Didst ever know
One modest?—slow to ask for what he thought
His own?—or what he might by mere demand
Make his?
Ste. They are well stomached,—true. No doubt
They'll press us far.
Bia. They will. And if refused,—
Well, they are children,—and must bite and scratch.
With strutting rage, may pelt you out of Athens.
But why not say you are in part empowered.
And must return to Sparta with the terms
Before a vowed conclusion?
Ste. Late for that,
Young sir. The tongue we used to the Council
Must serve in the Assembly. We have said
We have full power.
Bia. To treat, not to assent.
That was your word.
Ste. Hmm! Now the cloud is off
The dunce's script, and I read clear why you
At twenty-five have Athens' voice to sail
'Gainst Syracuse.
[Re-enter Pelagon]
Bia. No word unto my uncle!
Ste. My brain will serve.
Pel. They've come,—your comrades,—all!
If honor now were substance, my poor walls
Would groaningly unroof and beg the sky
For room to embrace it! Go you, Biades.
Repeat my welcome, with increase of grace
Your tongue is rich in.
[Exit Biades, upper left]
Now the full time comes.
We'll speak of that that's centre of our hearts,—
Our daughters, friend. This is the hour that ends
A watch of twenty years.
Ste. A patient score.
So long your daughter has been mine, so long
Has mine been yours.
Pel. Like flower upon a stalk
Long nursed and tended, comes the end upon
This day of budding peace. You've had no whiff,
No hint untoward, that what we did had best
Been left undone?
Ste. Sir, what I do, I do!
When we changed babes not past their cradle sleep,
My mind then glossed the act with comment fair
As our unfructured hope. So does it still.
By Nestor, though I'm thitherward of prime,
There's none will say that with accreted years
I moult sagacity!
Pel. Eh, so! 'Twas well.
I've never doubted it. Here have I reared
Your Phania, Spartan-thewed, who now shall home
With Athens' gentle nurture in her veins
To hither yearn in blood of every son
She bears to Sparta. And you my Pyrrha bring
Back to her land to live a Spartan dame
Among Athenian mothers. So we feed
The unity we dream on,—quicken time,
Foresued, to give our tousing, touchy States
One civic heart.
Ste. Has Sachinessa kept
A secret tongue?
Pel. A nut not closer sits
About its kernel. And your wife, my friend?
What of Archippe? Did she hold for long
Against the exchange?
Ste. She did. Nor ever learned
To love your Pyrrha. For that cause,—and that
Our even trust might move with even faith,
Nor odds of grace to you,—I've stood her guard,
And made her comrade where a son might claim
The dearest post.
Pel. Good thanks, my Stesilaus.
From your wife's audit I'd not brush a doit,
But to the credit of my dame can set
A fairer sum. Æneas' curlèd lad
Lay not more dearly in his Dido's lap
Than your sweet Phania in the swaddling love
Of Sachinessa. Ay, she'll swear me now
That not to gain her own will she give up
Her foster darling.
Ste. Humph!
Pel. The little duck!
She has so chucked herself into my heart
'Twill put me sad about to oust her.
Ste. Duck!
When I lose Pyrrha, sir, that hour I lose
This good right arm!
Pel. [Meditative] Hmm! So!... Come, my friend.
The dinner's toward, and the host astray.
The love's deep-vouched that puts such duty off
For one more word. [Pauses as they move left]
We'll give no open voice
To our most dear concern till we have met
Our daughters.
Ste. [Gloomy] Met our daughters! Have it so.
[Exeunt upper left. Enter, middle left, Phania and Biades]
Bia. Come, Phania! The old cocks are off.
Pha. They're gone?
Bia. Good flitting too! I feared they'd perch till night,
Crowing the deeds of Stesilaus the Great
And Pelagon the Wise.
Pha. These Spartans! If
They'd rest their clubs without the door, our shins
Would give them thanks. Why are we so besieged?
Bia. Why, Phania, why? Because your father dotes
On dull and sodden peace that never was
Save in an old man's dream. We dine our foes!
The city must throw ope her gates, forsooth,
Lest the dear enemy should take some hurt
Scaling the walls! They'd bleed us as we sleep,
And Pelagon would vow the sword at 's throat
Were Sachinessa's dozing kiss.
Pha. Ho, hear
The captain speak! You go to Syracuse,
And not content? 'Tis well there's one cries peace.
Bia. What's Syracuse? To conquer Sparta,—that
Were warrior's work! Your father robs me of it,
Bringing the water where I set my fires.
But come! I've not made love to a soul to-day
Save ancient Sparta. Ha! it is an art
That should be spared such sweat. The Heavens mean
That I shall pull to yoke these two days left,
And love take beggar's chance.
Pha. Ah, but two days!
Bia. Come to our myrtle nook——
Pha. Nay, Sybaris
Might turn me out. That is her royal seat
When you'll play consort.
Bia. What, my Phania? Dour?
Does Creon keep away?
Pha. I'm not for him.
You know it, Biades.
Bia. But he does not.
Too oft I find him here.
Pha. And Sybaris
Comes out of count, knowing you like this spot.
Yon path is worn of every blade.
Bia. Her feet
Can be so cruel?
Pha. You love her still!
Bia. Nay, sweet.
Not for three days. Believe me, cousin!
Pha. Cousin!
Athene save us! See her now,—the plague!
Bia. By gentle Eros, Phania, we'll be kind.
I loved her once.
Pha. How tall she is!
Bia. Ay, moves
A very sylph!
[Sybaris comes on, lower right]
Syb. A fair day's greeting, friends!
Bia. We double it for thee.
Pha. My dearest Syb!
Do you turn snail, you keep your house so long?
Why, hours, I think!
Syb. Indeed!
Bia. Where lovers watch
The dial, that's an age.
Pha. Oh, so!
Bia. [To Phania] Do I
Not know?
Syb. An age? Ay, love grows old and fades in 't.
Bia. A thousand moons in journey o'er my love
Would leave 't no withered hour! By the fair soul
Of one who knows me true!
Syb. That is no woman.
Pha. A pretty oath!
Syb. But not a new one, dear.
Bia. Plead, Phania, dove! Let her not chide
Poor penitence on knee. In two days' time
I sail to war, yet stony Sybaris
Would break love's wings with doubt—put me aboard
With sighs to sink my ship——
Pha. Nay, Sybaris!
I'll vow him constant now.
Syb. Inconstancy
Once stopped for breath, and fools came with a chair.
Bia. No thaw in thee? Plead, Phania, sweet! Your lips
Are unimpeached where mine too oft have worn
Conviction's droop.
Pha. Forgive, dear Sybaris!
Bia. Ay, be my tongue! Tell her that as the bee
Betrays the honey-buds yet hiveward flies,
I've left all by-roads for the true home-path.
Syb. Then you have trailed all others stale. There's none
Left new but that.
Bia. Tell her when I have sailed
From Athens' eyes into the sun that eve
May skirt with blood——
Pha. No, no!
Bia. —to walk with you
The haven's brim, watching the waves that throw
The sea-heart there, and know that from my ship
Pulses a heart to love's dream-sandalled feet
As constant as the sea to Athens' shore.
[Sybaris moves relentingly nearer. Biades behind Phania, who sits on bench, leans to talk into her ear, but keeps his eyes tenderly on Sybaris]
Ah, tell her, Phania, sleep is slow to come
Where warriors bed, and unforgiven hours
Are thorny comrades for an age-long night.
Syb. Then here's my hand. Pray Pallas 'tis no fool's!
Bia. Yours too, my Phania! In one breath I seal
Judge and defender mine! [Kissing their hands]
Now with my ship
Will prayers go tendant, mending every sail
That storm may batter. Typhon, whirl the sea
To insurrection,—send her meekest wave
To crinkle round the sun, and hiss from Heaven
The mariner's port-star,—I shall be safe
While I have implorators fair as ye
To melt the gods!
Syb. Ah, Biades, thou must
Be loved or die. Is 't heart or vanity,
That's so insatiate?
Pha. Nay, you have forgiven!
Syb. But will not coo yet. Is that Creon comes?
[Looking to upper right]
You'll meet him, Phania?
Pha. He knows his way.
Bia. Has news!
I'll pick the pigeon. [Goes up right]
Pha. O, my Sybaris,
Thanks for this generous peace! But who could long
Be harsh to Biades?
Syb. Such steel's not in me.
I but stood off, a shadow of resolve,
To hear him woo me back. His coldest words
Are ta'en from music, but when warm in suit,
Then music sues to him.
Pha. Woo you? Didst say
Woo you? Couldst think—couldst dream—couldst let blind sense
So flatter?
Syb. Blind? Well, you've no eye to lend.
Pha. His words were all for me, and through my heart
Were sifted to your ears.
Syb. For you, my dear?
Now what a gosling 'tis!
Pha. Oh! Ask him then!
Syb. You'll beat that bush. I have no doubt in cover.
[Biades returns with Creon]
Cre. You'll not go out?
Bia. No, friend.
Cre. I warn you, sir!
It is your reputation left i' the street
That knocks for you.
Bia. 'Twill care for itself.
Cre. Nay, come!
Soon every ear in Athens will be crammed
Wi' the tale.
Syb. What tale?
Cre. 'Tis said that Biades
Was cap and spur to riot that defaced
The Hermæ yesternight.
Bia. Denosed, you mean.
Pha. O, do not jest! I tremble, Biades!
Cre. You must o'ertake the lie, my lord, ere winds
Be up with 't.
Bia. Let it fly, my Creon. When
Its wings are worn 'twill down for any heel
To trample.
Cre. Not this feather. It broods on the air,
And its dark issue makes eclipse your sun
Can push no beam through.
Bia. Sinon's pate has hatched
The ebon chick.
Cre. You're not far out. He wants
The generalship.
[Enter Hippargus, upper right]
Bia. Here comes a tongue to market.
Most purchasable, tho' neither cut nor dried.
Cre. The senate's messenger!
Bia. Greeting, Hippargus.
Hip. Greeting, my lord,—and I must lay command
On that, for you are charged on the instant to appear
Before the Council.
Bia. The instant? Cramped to that?
And what to do there, sir?
Hip. Give proof you touched
With no profaning and injurious hand
Our threshold gods.
Bia. Go gently back, Hippargus,
And tell the senators I pardon them,
Knowing they do mistake. They would not lay
So dull an antic on me, and this charge
Is meant for Bico, my fat monkey here,
Whom they may have for trial.
Hip. Spare such jest,
My worthy lord. A hundred tongues have sworn
You said in open street, nor cared who heard,
The guardian Hermæ might be nipped of ears,
And noses too, yet serve our pious turn,
Since they smell out no faults and citizens
Confess none.
Bia. Ah! Do they make wit a crime,
Who have no taint of its color? Say 'twere red
The senators would never be mistook
For woodpeckers. Gods! When they prate, I know
Athene's owl is stuffed, and her wise serpent
An old-year slough! Off now! Your pannier's full.
Trot and unpack.
[Exit Hippargus]
Cre. Out! Follow, and deny
This answer! Dare you, standing on the top
And slippery point of fortune, throw your cap
In Heaven's face?
Bia. Dare I do less? No, friend.
The Council fears me, and would see me down.
My power is in the people, who for gold
And merry flattery give me their love.
But now they're on the quibble how to turn,
To me or Sinon. I'll not let them see
My office brought to question, and myself
Outfaced by perjurers in Sinon's keep.
Nay, when they find I'm not the senate's groom,
But know myself, their pride will know me too,
And I shall go to bed as I rose up,
The Athenian general.
Cre. The street will bellow.
I'll listen to it, and pick interpretation
From 'ts roar. You'll come with me?
Bia. Though oracles,
On every curb and step, begged audience,
I'd not go out.
[Exit Creon]
Pha. Oh, me!
Bia. Why so? I'm not a hare
To jump because a leaf falls. Wag the hour,
And Pleasure wait on us! If she fill not
My cup to-day, I fear it must go empty
A good twelvemonth. There are fair maids
In Syracuse, but they'll peer on me through
A crimson lattice.
Pha. You'll not see them, sir!
Or break a thousand oaths! So oft you've sworn
No beauty out of Athens could persuade
Your eyes to worship.
Syb. Then the Spartan maid
Lodged here will let him sleep.
Bia. What maid is this?
Pha. Why, Pyrrha,—Stesilaus' daughter.
Bia. Here?
Pha. Ay, everybody's here.
Syb. I saw her leave
The chariot. Such clothes!
Pha. No clothes, you mean!
Syb. [In shocked aside] Just to the knees!
Pha. And open to the hips!
Syb. You say it!
Pha. And manners, none. I took her nuts
And sugared poppy seeds. She said she kept
No parrot.
Syb. Here's a guest!
Pha. And when I said
I lived on them——
Bia. My dainty!
Pha. —then she asked
If that made me so little!
Bia. Ay, they feed
To grow in Sparta. Breed but monsters there.
No arts, no grace, no soft and tendrilled speech
That creeps to ends of being and looks back
Exultant and afraid. They are not men,
But, wearing human port, would force on us
A beastly comradeship. Set me to woo
A toad bred in a ditch of Attica,
But not a maid of Sparta! Were she fair
As was Persephone when she drew the god
From nether earth, yet sprung from that hard soil,
I'd let her beauty pass.
Syb. Hist, Biades!
She's yonder.
[They look middle left, where Pyrrha appears]
Pha. I like the garden best when 't wears
Pale Cybele's gown. Apollo makes it harsh
In black and gold—Ah, Pyrrha! You have found
Our blossomy corner. Welcome to it, and know
My neighbor, Sybaris,—and Biades.
Pyrr. I greet you, friends of Athens.
Pha. Will you sit?
Bia. [Who has not removed his gaze from her since her entrance]
A walk! That was your wish.
I'll show the paths.
Syb. Nay, here's a seat.
Bia. There's Artystone's rose,
Brought from the Mysian stream——
Pha. She'll stay with us.
Bia. The ivory cup of Isis, where each night
Her one tear falls,—and flowers whose sisters blow
In walled Ecbatana.
Syb. Come, sit by me,
Dear Pyrrha.
Pyrr. I would see the garden.
Syb. [Rising] Would?
We'll guide you then.
Pha. Ay, who would dawdle here?
Bia. But rest a moment, Pyrrha. I mind me now,
That from this spot the eye may best o'ersweep
The full design. Yon mass of planes——
Pyrr. I'll walk
Alone. [Moves off, lower right]
Syb. Well!
Pha. Said I not?
Syb. Does nothing that
She's asked! And stares as though a woman's eyes
Were made to see with, when their chiefest use
Is not to see!
Pha. Crude as her Spartan rocks!
Bia. I'll follow.
Syb. Nay, she'd walk alone!
Bia. She's Athens' guest.
I'll not be rude, whatever lack in her
Provokes me to it.
Pha. Nor shall I, by all
The grace in th' world!
Syb. You shame us, Biades.
We'll go with you.
[Each taken an arm of Biades as he goes right. Pelagon enters, upper left]
Pel. Daughter, this way!
[Phania returns reluctantly. The others pass off, right]
Pel. My chick,—
Nay, I'll be brief. I know young feet would flock.
Pha. O, father dear, I'd please you first! [Kissing him]
Pel. Well, well!...
You've seen Lord Stesilaus?
Pha. Just a peek.
Pel. Nay, he's no bear.
Pha. He'll bite though. I know that.
Pel. Now, Phania, now! I have a reason, miss,
A most dear reason you should win the love
Of Stesilaus.
Pha. Love!
Pel. I mean, my duck,
A father's gentle love.
Pha. But, daddy, he's——
So tall!
Pel. He has a heart, my daughter.
Pha. Fum!
Are you so sure?
Pel. Find it the shortest way.
Remember he's your—hmm!—remember—hmm!—
That he's a man—as I am—and his pride
But April frost. Be as he were myself——
Pha. As you? Oh, dear! [Under his arm]
And must I cuddle so?
Nay, that's for my own fa-fa!
Pel. Little Phania!
I'll lose my pipit,—lose my bonny bird!
Pha. Lose me? O, never, daddy, never! I'm
Your pipsey, wipsey, umpsey, ownty own!
Pel. [Resolutely] Wait here. I'll send him by.
Pha. But, father, why——
Pel. Nay, that's my secret. Not for little birds.
[Exit upper left. Phania waits until he disappears, then turns flying, and vanishes lower right. Archippe and Sachinessa enter, middle left]
Sac. Blest be Athene, there's nobody here!
The house is overrun, and Pelagon
Has twenty shadows, one at every door.
Out, in,—in, out,—with ears like aprons held
For every whisper! Here we're safe to talk.
Arc. O, dearest Sachinessa, what's to do?
Sac. We'll go to Philon. If he says confess——
Arc. Confess? I'll never do it! I will take
What way he will but that, though 't be the one
Leads out of life. You do not know my lord!
Sac. Your Stesilaus is no god, Archippe.
I'll tell you that.
Arc. If it should come to him
We never changed our daughters! If he learns
That twenty years I've made him wear the hood,
His roof no more would shade me. Nay! Confess?
Oh, Sachinessa, I should lose him quite!
Sac. That could be borne, I think.
Arc. But lose my Pyrrha?
Be driven out from her? See her no more?
Sac. There, friend, you stir me. Such a piece of man!
To strike like that because a woman's wit
Has clipped his own! He's not suspected you
In all these years?
Arc. Not once. I've watched myself
As I were my own jailer, fenced my heart,
And made my love a thief that gave my child
No open looks, but by her bed at night
Stole comfort as she slept.
Sac. Not I, Archippe!
I've laughed above the snores of Pelagon,
Knowing my darling near, whom he thought far
As Sparta. Come! You're taller by a head
Than I, yet die with quaking. And I thought
Each Lacedæmon wife a lioness.
Arc. Ah, but their lords are lions.
Sac. Well, they've mane
Enough, but they'd not shake it in my face.
Arc. Will you confess?
Sac. Why, no. For Pelagon
Would play the spousal saint, sit on the clouds,
And with a piety intolerable
Forgive his perjured wife. What soul could bear it?
But I'll not part with Phania, know you that!
Arc. What then?
Sac. We'll go to Philon. How to keep
Our secret and our daughters,—that's a nut
To break the oracle's teeth.
Arc. If 't can be done!
Sac. It must be done, Archippe. Come,—I hear
A chatter. This way out.
[They leave, upper right. Biades, Pyrrha, Sybaris, and Phania enter lower right]
Pha. What of our garden,
Now all is seen?
Pyrr. Here gods should live, not men.
At every turn I seemed to lose the step
Of a departing deity.
Syb. We are content
With our Athenian lords, and seek no charm
To turn them into gods.
Bia. [Showing a locket] I've here a charm
Does more than that. This jewel webbed
In mystic rings—and set——
Syb. The Persian gem!
You promised me——
Bia. It is a magic stone,
That gazed upon by a true-minded maid——
Pha. [Securing the trinket] I'll see it, sir!
I've heard you vow your bride
Should wear this locket.
Bia. [To Phania] So she shall.
[To Sybaris] None else!
[To Pyrrha]
You hear my oath. Come, Sybaris, sit here
And, Phania,—come! You both shall peep at fate
Through a ruby portal, if your hearts be true.
Now fix your look——
Pha. We'll see the same!
Bia. Not so.
Each fortune's connate with the gazer's star,
And tinted as she dreams. Direct your eyes
With flawless constancy, or you'll see naught.
Pha. Not lift them once?
Bia. Nay, fasten every thought
Deep in the jewel's fire, till I have said
The Persian chant of welcome to the spirit
Whose magic you shall see.
Pha. A spirit? Oh!
Bia. But she is fair,—framed as divinity
For adoration.
Syb. She!
Bia. Lift not your eyes.
[Stands behind Phania and Sybaris and makes the incantation an ardent address to Pyrrha]
Spirit of Fate, what mystical wooing May win thee to pause where we pray? Misers of Dream their locks are undoing,— Mistress of Keys, wilt thou stay?
Priestess, thyself, O fairer than dreaming, Art deity's answer to prayer! Dusk in thine eyes is the seer-burthen gleaming, And moon-wands at rest in thy hair.
Far-foot Desire is lost in the winding Of valleys and gardens of thee! Hoop of white arms is circumferent binding The star-pastured world and me!
[Sybaris throws the locket at his feet. He turns and sees that she and Phania have risen and are staring at him]
Pyrr. [After a silence] I do not know this game. Will leave you to it.
[Exit, middle left]
Syb. And I'll go home! [Exit, lower left]
Pha. And I'll go tell my father!
[Exit, upper left]
Bia. And I'll go stand in th' donkey mart and bray
Till a farmer buys me! Witched, and by a Spartan!
Mad as the fleeing ass of Thessaly! [Exit, upper right]
[Curtain]