Bia. You give this blade to me?
Pyrr. I care not. Keep
What you have praised.
Bia. [Pressing it against his cheek]
A gentle weapon,—but
I've somewhat 'gainst it.
[Goes to door and throws it far into the sea]
Kiss the waves, my friend!
[Returns to Pyrrha and sits by her]
Bia. [Softly] I leave the ship to-night.
Pyrr. [Uneasy] And time you led
The fleet to battle. You've excused delay
Till palling breath became the shroud of action,
And yet refused it funeral.
Bia. I know
How you have doubted. O, this soul of Sparta,
That can not trust! It peeps from every eye,
Deepest where kindest. Tags each friendly word
With its unspoken dread,—and comradeship,
That strives to wrap it in a gala cloak,
Strains vainly round the huge, dun doubt, agape
In dreary revelation.
Pyrr. You are free
To leave us.
Bia. Free? Five Spartan nobles watch
Beside me, move with every step, for so
The admiral must be honored! Hieron
Foregoes his place at sacrifice to serve
My dignity. Not for his gods he'll put
A furlong 'tween us.
Pyrr. He's the ship's good eye.
And all the men except the lords of guard
Are, by your grace, a-neighboring. Would you leave
The galley without watch?
Bia. No, Pyrrha, sweet.
But I would woo you with no ear at the door.