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.