CYPRIAN.
THE DEMON.
LELIUS, The Governor of Antioch's Son.
FLORUS, friend of Lelius.
MOSCON, Servant of Cyprian.
CLARIN, Servant of Cyprian.
THE GOVERNOR OF ANTIOCH.
FABIUS, his Servant.
LYSANDER, the reputed Father of Justina.
JUSTINA.
LIVIA, her Maid.
A Servant.
A Soldier.
ATTENDANTS, Soldiers, People.
SCENE—Antioch and its environs.
THE WONDER-WORKING MAGICIAN.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
A WOOD NEAR ANTIOCH.
Enter CYPPRIAN in a Student's gown, followed by CLARIN and MOSCON, as
poor Scholars, carrying books.
CYPRIAN. In the pleasant solitude
Of this tranquil spot, this thicket
Formed of interlacing boughs,
Buds, and flowers, and shrubs commingled,
You may leave me, leaving also,
As my best companions, with me,
(For I need none else) those books
Which I bad you to bring hither
From the house; for while, to-day,
Antioch, the mighty city,
Celebrates with such rejoicing
The great temple newly finished
Unto Jupiter, the bearing
Thither, also, of his image
Publicly, in grant procession,
To its shrine to be uplifted;—
I, escaping the confusion
Of the streets and squares, have flitted
Hitherward, to spend in study
What of daylight yet may glimmer.
Go, enjoy the festival,
Go to Antioch and mingle
In its various sports, returning
When the sun descending sinketh
To be buried in the waves,
Which, beneath the dark clouds' fringes,
Round the royal corse of gold,
Shine like sepulchres of silver.
Here you'll find me.
MOSCON. Sir, although
Most decidedly my wish is
To behold the sports, yet I
Cannot go without a whisper
Of some few five thousand words,
Which I'll give you in a jiffy.
Can it be that on a day
Of such free, such unrestricted
Revelry, and mirth, and fun,
You with your old books come hither
To this country place, rejecting
All the frolic of the city?
CLARIN. Well, I think my master's right;
For there's nothing more insipid
Than a grand procession day,
Half fandangos, priests, and fiddles.
MOSCON. Clarin, from the first to last,
All your life you've been a trickster,
A smart temporizing toady,
A bold flatterer, a trimmer,
Since you praise the thoughts of others,
And ne'er speak your own.
CLARIN. The civil
Way to tell a man he lies
Is to say he's wrong:—you twig me,
Now I think I speak my mind.
CYPRIAN. Moscon, Clarin, both I bid ye
Cease this silly altercation.
It is ever thus betwixt ye,
Puffed up with your little knowledge
Each maintains his own opinion.
Go, and (as I've said) here seek me
When night falls, and with the thickness
Of its shadows veils from view
This most fair and wondrous system
Of the universe.
MOSCON. How comes it,
That although you have admitted
'Tis not right to see the feast,
Yet you go to see it?
CLARIN. Simple
Is the answer: no one follows
The advice which he has given
To another.
MOSCON [aside]. To see Livia,
Would the gods that I were winged.
[Exit.
CLARIN [aside]. If the honest truth were told
Livia is the girl that gives me
Something worth the living for.
Even her very name has in it
This assurance: 'Livia', yes,
Minus 'a', I live for 'Livi'.*
[Exit.
[footnote] *This, of course, is a paraphrase of the original, which,
perhaps, may be given as an explanation.
"Ilega, 'Livia'.
Al 'na', y se, Livia, 'liviana'."