ACT II
Scene: The same as first act, a few minutes later. Phania in discovered in rear. Stesilaus walks frozenly back and forth, front, while she timidly advances and retreats.
Pha. [Approaching] I'm Phania, sir.
Ste. [Looks at her incredulously, then walks left, leaving her centre]
My blood and bone in that!
What dwarf-dish has she fed on? Ugh!
Pha. [Crossing] I've come
To walk with you. You like our garden, sir?
We've bulbuls in it,—and wee, visiting wings
From the unknown south. Can see them if you watch
A place I know. They dart like breathing bits
Of chrysoprase and sard o' the sun.
Ste. Humph! You
Are Phania?
Pha. [Braver] Troth, I am! Wilt see a nest—
So small as—that! Could put it on your thumb.
[Takes his hand]
I'll show you, sir. Don't you love little things?
They wiggle to the heart, my daddy says.
You love my daddy, don't you?
Ste. Ugh! Your—Ugh!
Pha. [Defensive] I love him,—yes, and all his friends. I do,
Though they're—so tall. I come just to your beard.
See now! [Leans against him]
Ste. Get off! You squeaking pewit! Ugh!
Pha. [Quiveringly] Have I displeased you, sir?
Ste. Displeased me? No.
You make contentment creep on honored bones
Far back as Lacedæmon's earliest grave
That opened for my house. You turn my blood
That's not yet earthed, and hot as Sparta's pride,
To drops that mutiny 'gainst their own succession
And beg to be the end. Displeased? Oh, no!
[Retires, rear]
Pha. Oh, sir——
[Fails, and goes off weeping, lower right. Enter, upper right, Biades and Creon]
Cre. But this confusion, many-throated,
Has single voice and warns articulate.
A treasonous tempest rises, and you stand
A god indifferent when you should bethink
Yourself most mortal. Vilest mouths puff bold
In Sinon's service. You must wax your way
To th' Council——
Bia. Nay, no bending there!
Cre. But——
Bia. Peace!
Here's Stesilaus! He's most heavy shipped.
What is aboard? And now comes Pelagon,
With 's threshing-tongue a-ready. Chaff will fly.
[Enter Pelagon, upper left]
Pel. What thinkst of Phania? Is she not a chick?
Ste. You've tricked me, Pelagon! What fubbery
Have you put on me?
Pel. Sir? Now, now! Why, friend!
Ste. That's not my daughter!
Bia. [Drawing Creon back] Whist!
Ste. I'll see my own!
My Phania! Not that bib,—that mewling piece,
With th' milk still in her mouth!
Pel. Speak so of her?
A bud in th' dew! A cherry next its leaf!
A pippin on the limb!
Ste. Not mine, I say!
Pel. If you repent you did beget her, sir,
I'll be your shift and own the curtained deed
'Fore man and Heaven.
Ste. That my child?
Pel. Yours, friend.
Ste. Would she had never left Archippe's lap
For Sachinessa's! Patience, cool my tongue!
But I've done better by your Pyrrha!
Pel. Soft,
Beseech you, Stesilaus! Here's no place
For trumpeting our secret. And brief time
Forbids it present voice. The hour is on
To hear the people's answer. Come, my lord.
Your comrades go before you. We're past late.
Ste. Friend Pelagon, though courtesy be pressed
To th' kibe, I'll urge you keep at home. 'Tis best
You be not seen in this. The lords, who know
You lean to Sparta,—and for that all thanks,—
Are pricked therewith to oppose us, when they else
Might voice us favor.
Pel. Ay, they know me, friend.
My eye sets them at guard. They feel it, sir!
Puts them on screw. Well, so,—I'll stay behind.
But let me set you forth. [Exeunt, upper right]
Bia. Is 't trick, or truth?
Cre. Touch me! A needle's point
Could find no spot amazement hath not taken!
Bia. Didst hear it Creon? Pyrrha an Athenian!
O, words of miracle, if ye be true,—
Friend, friend, I'm in a whirl upon a way
To use this strange unearthment for the good
Of Athens. You'll be silent. Creon?
Cre. Nay,
I think——
Bia. And now I've lost fair Phania!
Cre. Lost?
Bia. With Mars i' the dusk of this debated time,
The Athenian general may not wive himself
With Sparta.
Cre. True!
Bia. I might give up command,
And be no more my country's armored watch....
Nay, Attica is first! That's sworn. I'll plunge
The sacrificial knife deep as my love.
And now 'tis done. Ah, Creon, tend thee well
My gentle loss.
Cre. This sets thee o'er thyself!
O noblest bounty that in grace compeers
With emulous Heaven! What in me can pay——
Bia. No more of 't now. But what a secret this!
If 't solely were my own—
Cre. It is, my lord!
'Tis yours. I have no speech, no tongue for 't!
Bia. Thanks,
My Creon, thanks! And will you go once more
To th' street, where now it seems I have some need
Of loyal ears?
Cre. I serve you, Biades. [Exit, upper right]
Bia. Fast hooked, and feels no barb. If he'll lie dark
Till I would stir the waters.... Is it truth?
Pyrrha! Athenian born and Spartan bred!
By Mars and Eros! Here's a captain's bride!
There's flutter in me like a forest shook
With waking birds!
[Re-enter Phania, still weeping]
Bia. Why, Phania! Such a shower,
My kitkin!
Pha. Stesilaus sh-shook me so!
Called me a sque-e-aking pewit!
Bia. Ha! He did?
Well, listen to me, Phania. Come, look up.
[Lifts her chin]
A maid with little eyes should never weep.
Leave that to Juno orbs. They swim in sorrow
Like full moons in a lake, but beads like yours
Are only bright when dry. Shun grief as you
Shun mud. [Exit, middle left]
Pha. [Gasping] Why—Biades—he's gone!
He said——
Oh, oh! If I could die——
[Sobs with abandon. Enter Alcanor, upper left. He pauses before her. She looks up bewildered]
Alc. Ah, gentle star,
What shrouds thee in this rain? Yet thou'rt not hid.
Thy beauty shining on these clouds of pearl
Makes every drop that dies reflecting thee
A little, falling sun.
Pha. Oh, Biades said——
He said—he said——
Alc. If what he said so troubles,
Let me unsay it with a kiss that makes
Trouble forgot and dumb. [Kisses her]
Pha. [On his bosom] I'm not—I'm not—
Not ugly, sir?
Alc. O, dove of Aphrodite!
Earth stores her beauty in this single face,
That she may show one jewel to the skies
When gods boast they have all!
[Phania purrs comfortedly, then releases herself]
Pha. How dare you, sir,
Attack me? Who are you?
Alc. I do not know.
Pha. Not know?
Alc. Nothing of self or where I am.
It may be those are trees on giant guard,
And these bright peeping things are flowers' eyes,
And this is happy grass we stand upon,
And that blue watcher is the faithful sky,
But I know naught except my soul is yours,
O, maid-magician, in whose snare I lie
Kissing the net that binds me! [Kissing her fallen curls]
Pha. But you know
Your name!
Alc. Not in this world a minute old
That now I find me in, but in time past
I was Alcanor, Stesilaus' son.
Pha. O!—then—why—all is well! You're noble, sir!
My father will approve you.
Alc. Hast a father?
And art not magic-born? Then I perceive
I must go back and find my earthly wits.
Pha. Nay, he is Pelagon, your father's friend.
Alc. You're Phania, then!
Pha. [Giving her hand] I am.
Alc. No more than this?
No kiss?
Pha. [Very shy] You've had it, sir.
Alc. A phantom one!
'Twas in a dream, as two ghost-lovers meet
On an Elysian path. Too cold for earth!
Pha. [Touching her cheek] Nay, it is warm here yet.
[He takes her in his arms, and they withdraw lower right. Pelagon enters, upper right, in time to witness the embrace]
Pel. [Rousing from his horror] Her brother! Gods!
Whip me all hagglers! We have stood so long
At door of our confession that this shame
Gets by us. Phania and Alcanor! Oh!
No shuffling now! When Stesilaus comes,
The tale must out!
[Enter Pyrrha, middle left. She crosses, passing Pelagon, who retreats rear, unseen by her. She loiters right]
Pel. Here's opportunity
At beck. I'll follow. [Advances] Ahem! My daughter,——
Pyrr. Sir?
You seek your daughter? I will look this way.
[Goes farther right]
Pel. I must advance, and take her Spartan guard
With gentleness. My love, 'tis you I seek.
Pyrr. [Stiffly] You'd speak to me?
Pel. My little Pyrrha,——
Pyrr. Little!
Pel. I think of Phania. In my heart you both
Hold undivided place. Shall we not chat a bit,
My Pyrrha?
Pyrr. Kitchen maids do that, not men
Of State.
Pel. Nay, there's a time when one may cast
The civic garment and take household ease
In modest robe.
Pyrr. [Aside] A swaddling band would fit him!
Pel. You will not hear me?
Pyrr. I wait upon you, sir.
For if your hostship I forget, and leave
The fees of grace unpaid, I yet must know
You are my father's friend. Say what you will,
My lord.
Pel. That word undears me! Let your tongue
Breach colder custom and give me a name
That brings me near in love as Stesilaus.
Wilt call me father, Pyrrha?
Pyrr. [Retreating] You, my lord?
Pel. They've frozen her, poor child! Must blow more warm.
Indeed a father. Call me what I am,
For so I love you, Pyrrha.
Pyrr. Is it thus
The Athens sages talk?
Pel. Ay, we're not cut
Of ice as Spartans are. Here your poor heart
Shall know what sun is, and the Springs you've lost,
Betrayed without a bloom in frigid Sparta,
In Athens shall blow fair. You are amazed,
My sweet, but by this kiss——
Pyrr. [Giving him a blow] You goose-eyed goat!
I strike not at your years, Lord Pelagon,
But at your mind which has not come of age
And gives me elder right.
[Exit, middle left. While Pelagon is recovering, enter Stesilaus, upper right]
Pel. [Welcoming the interruption] You, Stesilaus?
So soon, friend, from the Assembly?
Ste. Late, sir, late!
More haste had been more prudence.
Pel. Why, why, why!
Ste. Where is your buttery nephew, Biades?
Who slips to the seat of question and melts all
Into one potch of folly!
Pel. But I'd know——
Ste. Why I am here, not there? A crater mouth
That calls itself a people hissed eruption
Into my face, and without bow I set
My back to 't, sir!
Pel. Blame me for all! I knew
I should not stay behind! The gods do know
I am the voice of Athens. 'Tis no pride
That speaks bare truth. I'll go——
Ste. Tuh, tuh!
A word with Biades——
Pel. But not too sharp,
My friend. He is of weight——
Ste. No sharper than
My stick! Then I set out for Sparta, where
The very ground knows Stesilaus walks!
Pel. And Phania goes with you?
Ste. Not if the chit
May corner in your kitchen! She's worth that.
Pel. You'll leave her here?
Ste. It will content me. I'll
Surrender both.
Pel. What? Both! Nay, your free heart
Shall not outdo my own.
Ste. You'll give me Pyrrha?
Pel. Friend of my soul, I will!
Ste. [Moved] Thanks, Pelagon.
She's dearer than my son. More like my blood.
Alcanor is too soft and woman-lipped.
Too much Archippe in him from his birth,
Nor blows could drive it out.
Pel. And mine own eyes
Have seen a cooing match between himself
And Phania.
Ste. Zeus! His sister!
Pel. While we speak,
The fated pair are yonder——
Ste. I'll get him home!
And leave the witch to you! Had I a doubt
To hold me back, this turn would be
Decision's point. She must stay here.
Pel. But how
Make answer to our wives? Our wisdom's nicked
Where it is tenderest if we confess.
Ste. What's to confess? I know my will and do it.
Pel. Ay, ay, you bear your wife in a sack, but mine
Is on her feet and goes her pace. Look yon!
They come together! A brace, and one of them
Would tie my tongue.
Ste. Tie water in a brook!
[Archippe and Sachinessa enter upper right]
Sac. We do not come to shame you, noble lords
And husbands, though we've that to bear which put
To honest ballad would uncrest your pride
And clip a reef or two from the tall sail
Of dignity.
Ste. Why, madam, this approach?
Sac. I walk, sir, in my garden when I please.
Arc. We have a suit, my honored lords, which you
May think full strange, remembering our prayers
Of twenty years ago.
Ste. What suit canst have?
If you must try the goose-step out of doors,
Go thank the gods for suiting you with me,
Who save you from all suit by hearing none.
Sac. Not hear us, sir? I'll catch you by the ears
And shake the pride-wool out, but you shall hear!
Suited with you! And then go thank the gods!
Pel. Why, Sachinessa, love! What you, duck?
Sac. This, Pelagon. When in that sad year gone
You took my child from me——
Pel. What? That again?
Sac. Not that, but this. I did not stay you then,
Being young in wedlock and my wit at cheep
In its first feathers. But this second time
When you lift up your hand to cut the bough
Whose root is in my heart, I'll speak so loud
That if your dull ear miss, I'll reach you yet
By way o' the stars that will cry back my wrong
When they so hear it.
Pel. You would beg for Phania?
Sac. I would. There is no source of love so great
As brooding care. That makes the mother, not
The childing pangs. Though she, from the first hour,
Will cherish what she must so dearly buy,
'Tis day by watchful day her swelling love
Is born. So I, as new days past, forgot
The child of my brief pain, and gave to one
That nestled in her place my care-born love.
Now you would strike again——
Pel. Sweet, by my soul,—
Nay, Sachinessa, dearest heart, be calm.
Your words have never in our mated life
Moved me as now. If Stesilaus yields,
And his stern will be broken by your plea,
I am content.
Ste. I'm so far moved, my friend,
That I will hear Archippe speak her wish.
Her love for Pyrrha will not match with that
Your wife bestows on Phania.
Arc. Ay, my lord,
I've never loved the stranger as my own,
But she is dearer than my own grown strange.
I see in Phania all my tender loss,
But it is lost forever. Give me, Pyrrha.
I have no other daughter.
Ste. Keep her, dame.
But make this weakness not your heckling ground
Where you would spar for favors. No more suits!
Pel. And, Sachinessa, hear the same from me.
Sac. You borrow feathers and I'll twitch 'em out!
Ste. [To Archippe] Lest you should badger, footed safe on this,
Know that my judgment's not earwigged by you
To this repeal, but now configures pat
To the act itself, that keeps a constant step
With our first purpose. Our intent comes out
With even edges, though reversed in face.
An Athens' maid shall be a Spartan mother,
And here shall dwell a dame of Spartan blood.
Pel. You hear it, Sachinessa. I'm not one
To throw my pack away in sight of home.
Come mud, come mire, I bear my judgment out,
As Athens knows.
Sac. I'll swear to it there's no man
I' the city better hides the sun with a sieve!
Ste. And secondly, my dame, know that I've won
My high contention that the laws of Sparta
Are best for brooding earth a godlike race.
For here my proof enroots in warmest life
That they can aggrandize the chalky veins
Of pampered Attica to ducts that bear
The red, unconquered sap of Lacedæmon.
Sac. So Pyrrha is your proof!
Ste. No question there.
A weak, Athenian babe grows up the pride
Of Sparta, while a budling of her own,
Nursled by Athens' soft and careless shift,
Scarce grows to woman's level——
Sac. Why, you puffed——
You pride-blown——
Arc. Come with me!
Sac. But such a bladder!
He'd top a flood into the second world
And wet but half his skin!
Arc. Nay, Sachinessa,
Our suit is won. No words! We'll haste once more
To Philon's shrine. For this dear joy I'll bend
A willing knee. Come, come!
[Draws her away, upper right]
Pel. [Capering] Could reel it now
Like school-boy 'scaped a whipping!
Ste. Shame! Your years
Will blush. [Goes left] Now Biades, and then farewell!
Pel. Ah, there's my mourning cloak! I'll go at once
To th' Council, and——
Ste. Vain labor, Pelagon.
Pel. Nay, I will stir them!
[Exit, upper right. Biades enters left. He is arrayed in a purple gown with long train held up by his monkey. A peacock fan swings from a girdle, and jewels dangle from his ears. He carries a scroll from which he reads as he walks, tittering over the matter. Stesilaus watches him curiously, then amazedly recognizes him]
Ste. Biades! Is 't he?
May eyes report it to a brain unshaken?
... Ho, sir,—or madam?
Bia. Did you speak, my lord?
Your pardon! I was buried here,—quite drowned
I' the honey of this tale. Sir, it suggests,—
But that's not it,—the style, so quaint, so pure,—
It plays with thoughts and leaves them bright as shells
The sea has polished to their curling edges.
You'll hear this line? 'Tis worth a pause. Eh, not?
You've never wooed the script? Ah, I forget.
War is the art of Sparta.
Ste. Are you man?
Bia. What's that to an artist, sir? Life in me packs
The germinal grain of all, and what may come
To birth and bloom, I leave to nursing Fate.
But you seem ruffled,—warm. Pray have my fan.
Then take my parchment,—sit you in this nook
And read of Corys and his water-nymph
Until the charm of an unhurrying world
Steals wave-like round you.
Ste. Olympus! Was 't this voice
That tripped my reason? Led my cautious years
To take instruction from a dizzened ape
And lose the cause they guarded? Was 't myself
So slubbered judgment——
Bia. Ah, must I believe
You honored my good counsel?
Ste. Good!
Bia. 'Twas good
For Athens. Ha, you slipped into the noose
As easily as my finger takes this ring.
A wondrous sapphire here. You know the stone?
This is from Egypt,—has the desert fire
'Neath Nilus' liquid smile. Is 't not a treasure?
But I forget. Your Sparta has no gems.
By Hera's belt, your country goes too bare
For this adornèd earth!
Ste. Come, Biades!
Throw off that gown, and with a captain's sword
Deny this folly!
Bia. Friend, 'tis not my hour
For exercise. Our moods, I see, would quarrel.
But here's my thornless world. You'll pardon me.
[Resumes walking and reading as before. Pyrrha enters, middle left, and stands watching him. He looks up and is struck motionless to find her eyes upon him. She comes nearer for a detached scrutiny, then crosses right]
Ste. Find me Alcanor, daughter. And this hour
We leave for Sparta.
Pyrr. I am ready, sir.
[Exit, lower right. Stesilaus goes into house, upper left]
Bia. She has good eyes, and used them. Overshot,
By Hermes! I must follow,—'twixt this fool
And meditation's eye must interpose
My soldier self!
[Tears off robe, under which he wears a simple, belted tunic, flings jewels from his ears, and drives out Bico. Goes off, lower right. Enter Pelagon, much ruffled, from street]
Pel. Where's Stesilaus? Stesilaus, ho!
Find Stesilaus!
[Stesilaus returns, upper left]
O, my friend, they're mad,
And you must fly! I never was so battered!
The senators cry out you played with them
As though their stationed honors were a row
Of last year's weanlings,—first to say you bore
Full power to treat, then at their open answer
To cover and prefer the opposite,
Declaring that their noble terms must cool
On th' road to Sparta! As I speak your comrades
Are driven through the gates. You must not stay.
They'll have your life, they are so worked. Come, come!
I know a way—I'll get you through——
Ste. I'll go
The way I came.
Pel. Nay, nay, I'll slip you out!
Leave here your wife and daughter. In gentler hour
I'll send them after, with your son,—
Ste. I'll speak
To Pyrrha——
Pel. No! This way! The world's at somersault!
The turtle's on his back, his claws to Heaven!
No one would hear me! Me! The voice of Athens!
And jeered me down, for I was Biades' kin,—
Though why the wind sits so I know not!
Come—come—I was so battered——
[Exeunt, upper left. Pyrrha and Biades enter, lower right]
Bia. But one word!
Pyrr. I've let you shower words in hope to drain
Your breath of them, but they grow to a hail.
Pelt me no more, Athenian.
Bia. O, that name
I held my pearl of honor is become
A wounding thorn! I'll wear 't no more.
Pyrr. You'll be
A Spartan?
Bia. Ay, if you are one!
Pyrr. So vows
An Athens' captain.
Bia. Nay, I have no place,
No rank, no office, duty or pursuit,
But this my gage is in. Nor rest till I have won!
Pyrr. Then you'll die weary, sir. So long 'twill take
To make me yours.
Bia. If you will love my shade
I'll on the instant make myself a ghost!
Pyrr. Love's burning deeds do ever lie before him.
He ne'er gets past to make them history.
Bia. O, hear my oath! Thy birthland shall be mine!
Pyrr. Whist, Biades! The gods might hear you too.
Bia. I'll swear it in the ears of Zeus!
Pyrr. By what
Irreverenced deity wilt break it?
Bia. Ah,
By none, fair Pyrrha! I'll stake my golden part
In love's eternity, no land's more dear
To my own heart than that which gave you birth.
Pyrr. Ay, for on Spartan soil the laurel grows
Which you would pluck from drenched defeat and set
Among your bays. So dear as that!
[A clamor is heard in street]
Bia. I'll woo
In better time. Till then let this pure gem
Speak for me on your breast. 'Tis like my love,
No sudden thing. For as this captive fire
Dreamed in the heart of earth and could not wake
Till beauty born in man sent down his kiss,
So lay my love in Life from her first breath,
Deep as unconsciousness, till at your step
It knew itself. You scorn the half-hour flame,
But in your coming like an instant dawn
Find all its brevity. Ay, Pyrrha, sweet!
And let my token lie, a patient prayer,
Upon your bosom. Heaven should have its sun!
[Drops the locket into the folds of her dress. She casts it to the ground]
Pyrr. Athens is such a sun, and Sparta as my foot
Shall overcloud it! [Exit, middle left]
Bia. Had she crushed my gem
To bleeding dust, I'd pay it o'er to see
Such flame unsheathe. Bright Eos necklaced with
A darkling east could not more beauteously
Threat earth with storm. [Takes up the locket]
You'll wear it yet, my terror,
Or I'll cut out the tongue that can not wag
To a woman's heart.
[Enter Creon from street]
What, Creon? Dumb with news?
Which I will guess before your tongue's uncrimped.
We've lost our gentle guests? Our Spartan friends
Are off?
Cre. They're driven out. But that is old.
Atop that tale, like mountain on a hump,
Comes one will wake you, sir! The tumbling streams
That bore the Spartans out, rage back again,
A gathered flood against you,—you, my lord!
Bia. Ah!
Cre. Sinon's poison spreads till men
That yesterday lay down before you, now
Cry for your death. I warned you, friend!
Bia. You did.
Be happy then. Your duty's done.
Cre. Oh, sir,
Your house is sacked, and all your golden plate,
Parcelled on robber backs, is carried out
And spots the city with a hundred suns!
Bia. There's more i' the world. Let that not trouble you.
Cre. Your robes are in the street, and carters' wheels
Grow royal with them!
Bia. Well, there yet are looms.
While weavers know their art this is no loss.
Cre. Your pictures——
Bia. What? If they've one finger laid
On those immortal treasures——
Cre. All are riddled!
Bia. All, Creon? Not my Zeuxis? No! The stones
Hurled at it would have paused as though a god
Were hidden there!
Cre. All, friend.
Bia. Ay, these are tears.
But I will chide them and think on my sword.
Now I must bend me to the senators,—
Get leave to call my troops,—
[Enter a body of senators, Amentor at their head]
Most noble lords,
I was about to seek you.
Amen. Shifts your mood,
Proud Biades? The answer's not yet cold
That came so hot from you,—a two-edged shame
That struck into your honor as our own!
Bia. Nay, gentle senators, Athenian fathers!
That you could note so low, so foul a charge
As secret Sinon brought against my name,
Gave me the block, the bellows, and the fire
Wherewith I forged my answer,—one that kept
My honor whole, and if your own needs surgery,
Lay 't not to me, but let good sense mend all,
And give me leave to go against this mob
Now scarring Athens' beauty.
Amen. Go alone.
Bia. I have an army.
Amen. Ask Lord Sinon that.
Bia. When fishes drown!
Amen. Put out your single arm,
And feel your army in it. Athens' troops
Are now in Sinon's charge. You are no more
Her general. You are banished.
Bia. Is this so?
Senators. It is.
Bia. Then I am dumb. Words on your heat
Would fall as snow,—and I am not a man
To let my scars speak, though my body bears
Enough to cry you shame.
Amen. We know your valor,
But with it goes a pride no State could bear
But that it must. Make your escape, my lord.
The people pressed us, and we save your life
By this decree.
Bia. O, Athens that did love me!
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 gods.
[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 gods,
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]