Part 9

_Sen._ ’Tis very well for you, Petronius, To take upon yourself the criticism And ordering of appearances, and say ’If aught goes ill, blame me.’ You lay your hand On any object you mislike, remove it, Replace it as you will, can please yourself: Nay, you can blame their taste who are not pleased. But he who deals with men, and seeks to mould A character to that high rule of right Which so few can attain, he works, I say, 3140 With different matter, nor can he be blamed By any measure of his ill success. His best endeavours are like little dams Built ’gainst the ocean, on a sinking shore. Nature asserts her force—and the wise man Blames not himself for his defeat. For me, Much as my soul is grieved, ay, and my pride Wounded—tho’ yet, I thank philosophy, I can be glad for that,—my hopes—for this I mourn—my hopes blasted; yet, hear me say, I take unto myself no self-reproach, 3151 Nay, not a tittle of the part of mischief A vulgar mind might credit to my score. I have done my best, and that’s the utmost good A man can do; and if a better man Had in my place done more, ’tis perverse Fortune That placed me ill. Thus far I argue with you, Who look on me askance, and think my heart Is tainted; as if I would in such case Do such thing, as—poison my brother at table, Contrive to kill my mother: ’Tis so far 3161 From possible, that to my ears the words Carry no sense: nay, and I think such crimes May seem more horrible to other men, Whose passions make them fear them, than to me Who cannot think them mine. As for the rest, I stand with you, and never from this hour Shall mix with Cæsar more with any hope Of good. Indeed I have hoped too long, and yet The end has come too soon. 3170

_Re-enter Anicetus, Tigellinus, and Paris._

_Tig._ ’Tis done, ’tis done.

_Ani._ Where is Cæsar?

_Bur._ Within.

[_Anicetus and Tigellinus hurry within._

_Petr._ Paris, is it true?

_Par._ The Augusta lives no longer, Most brutally and miserably slain: Yet died she bravely.

_Petr._ And why wentest thou To soil thy hand?

_Par._ I went not to take part: But Fortune holding nature’s ruffians up, I took their pattern.

_Sen._ Say, who did the deed?

_Par._ I’ll tell thee what I saw. As forth we went, The coward Tigellinus, pale as death, In needless haste foremost where was no danger, Hurried us on so fast, that thro’ the street 3181 We scarce kept pace, but when he reached the wall Of the garden, and saw there the soldiers placed By Anicetus, knowing not their purpose, He shrank behind. These men being bidden seized The servants; then we entered, and with us Came the centurion. Within the room Sat Agrippina with a single maid, Who seeing the Admiral’s sword fled past us out: At which the Augusta called to her, ’Dost thou, Fulvia, desert me too?’ Then to the Admiral 3191 She spoke. ’If here thou comest to enquire From Cæsar of my health, know I am well, Recovered from my shock, and little hurt. But if, as your men’s looks would mean, ye are come Deeming that Cæsar wills that I should suffer The like I late escaped, know you mistake. ’Twas not of his contrivance, and my foe In this is his.’ None answered, and awhile Was such delay as makes the indivisible 3200 And smallest point of time various and broad; For Agrippina, when she saw her lie Fail of its aim, ventured no more, as knowing There was no wiser plea; but let her eyes Indifferently wander round her foes, Counting their strength. Then looked I to have seen Her spring, for her cheek swelled, and ’neath her robe Her foot moved; ay, and had she been but armed, One would have fallen. But if she had the thought She set it by, choosing to take her death 3210 With dignity. Then Anicetus raised His sword, and I fled out beyond the door To see no more. First Tigellinus’ voice, ’To death, thou wretch!’ then blows, but not a groan; Only she showed her spirit to the last, And made some choice of death, offering her body, ’That bare the monster,’ crying with that curse, ’Strike here, strike here!’

_Sen._ Alas, poor lady, Was that the end of thy unscrupulous, 3219 Towering ambition? Thou didst win indeed The best and worst of Fortune.

_Bur._ Give her her due, Such courage as deserved the best, such crimes As make her death seem gentler than deserved.

_Enter Nero between Anicetus and Tigellinus._

_Ner._ My lords, ’tis done. Nay, look not grieved. There’s none Suffers as much as I; all share the good. And think not that to keep the world at peace I grudge this sacrifice: the general care I set before my own, and therefore bid There be no public mourning, nay, to-morrow We shall attend the spectacles and games, 3230 Appear as usual before the people: Ay, and I partly look, my lords, to you That I be well received. Good night to all!

ACHILLES IN SCYROS

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

_THETIS_ _Mother of Achilles_. _ACHILLES_ _disguised as PYRRHA_. _LYCOMEDES_ _King of Scyros_. _ULYSSES_ _Prince of Ithaca_. _DIOMEDE_ _compassion of Ulysses_. _ABAS_ _servant to Ulysses_. _DEIDAMIA_ _daughter of Lycomedes_. _CHORUS of SCYRIAN MAIDENS._

_The scene is on the Island of Scyros, in the gardens of the palace._

_Thetis prologises._

ACHILLES

_THETIS._

The deep recesses of this rocky isle, That far from undersea riseth to crown Its flowery head above the circling waves, A home for men with groves and gardens green, I chose not ill to be the hiding-place Of my loved son. Alas, I could not take him To live in my blue caverns, where the nymphs Own me for queen: and hateful is the earth To me, and all remembrance, since that morn, When, in the train of May wandering too far, 10 I trafficked with my shells and pearls to buy Her fragrant roses and fresh lilies white. Accurst the day and thou, ah, wretched Peleus, Who forcedst me to learn the fears that women Have for their mortal offspring: who but I, Thetis, Poseidon’s daughter, who alone But I of all the immortals have known this, To bear and love a son in human kind? And yet not wholly ill is the constraint, Nor do I pity mortals to be born 20 Heirs of desire and death, and the rich thought Denied to easy pleasure in the days That neither bring nor take; tho’ more to me Embittered with foreknowledge of a doom Threatened by fate, and labour how to avert. For to me, questioning the high decrees By which the sweetly tyrannous stars allot Their lives and deaths to men, answer was given That for my son Achilles there was ruled One of two things, and neither good; the better 30 A long and easy life, the worse a death Untimely-glorious, which should set his name First of the Greeks;—for so must seem to me Better and worse, so even an earthly mother Had for him chosen, tho’ for the right he died, And conquered all the gods that succour Troy.— But when I, thinking he must share my fear, Showed him the choice, he made a mortal plunge For glorious death, and would have straight gone forth To seek it; but in tenderness for me,— 40 Whom without shame he honours, and in this My love repays,—he to my tears consented To hide him from his fate; and here he dwells Disguised among the maidens like a maiden;— For so his beauty and youth permit,—to serve The daughter of the king of this fair isle, Who calls him Pyrrha for his golden hair, And knowing not prefers him o’er the rest. But I with frequent visitings assure me That he obeys; and,—for I have the power 50 To change my semblance,—I will sometimes run In likeness of a young and timorous fawn Before the maiden train, that give me chase Far in the woods, till he outstrip them all; Then turn I quick at bay with loved surprise, And bid him hail: or like a snake I glide Under the flowers, where they sit at play, And showing suddenly my gleaming eyes, All fly but he, and we may speak alone. Thus oft my love will lead me, but to-day 60 More special need hath brought: for on the seas I met at dawn a royal ship of Greece Slow stemming toward this isle. What that might bode, And who might sail thereon, I guessed; and taking A dolphin’s shape, that thro’ the heavy waters Tumbles in sport, around the labouring prow I gambolled, till her idle crew stood by To watch me from the wooden battlements. And surely among them there full soon I saw, Even as I feared, the man I feared, agaze 70 With hypocrite eyes, the prince of Ithaca, That searcheth for Achilles: of all the Greeks Whom most I dread, for his own endless wiles, And for Athena’s aid. Him when I saw, Lest I should be too late, I hither sped To warn my son, and here shall meet him soon,— Tho’ yet he hath not come,—for on these lawns The damsels of the court are wont to play, And he with them. Hark! see! even now. Nay, nay. Alas! who cometh thus? Ah, by that gait 80 Crouching along, it is my persecutor, Ulysses. Woe is me! I must fly hence. Tho’ he should know me not, I fear to face him, My hated foe, alert, invincible Of will, full of self-love and mortal guile. [_Exit._

_Enter Ulysses from the bushes, followed by Diomede, who wears a Lion’s skin._

_DIOMEDE._

We have made the circuit of the hill, and here Into the gardens are come round again. What now?

_ULYSSES._

Hush thou! Look there! Some one hath seen us. He flies.

_Dio._ I see not.

_Ul._ Where the myrtle tops Stir each in turn. He goeth toward the shore. 90 I must see him that seeth me. Bide thou.

[_Exit among the bushes._

_Dio._ Were I a dog, now, I might learn. Heigh ho! Two hours and more we have wandered on this mountain, Round and round, up and down, and round again, Gardens, and lawns, meadows, and groves, and walks, Thickets, and woods, the windings of the glades, I have them all by rote. Each petty rill We have tracked by rocky steps and paths about, And peeped into its dank and mossy caves. What sort of game should this Achilles be, 100 That we should seek him thus? Ah! back so soon? What sport?

_Ul._ (_re-entering_). Well hit. ’Twas but a milk-white doe, Some petted plaything of the young princess, That fled our stranger steps.

_Dio._ And whither now Turn we to seek Achilles?

_Ul._ Hark, Diomede: My plot is laid and ready for thine ears. Thou madest offer of thine aid; be patient, And hear me.

_Dio._ I will hearken.

_Ul._ First, thou knowest How since the day the Danaan kings took oath To avenge the wrong done by the Trojan Paris 110 Against his host, the Spartan Menelaus, One oracle hath thwarted us, which said Our purpose should not prosper with the gods Unless Achilles the young son of Thetis Should lead our armies.

_Dio._ Certainly, so far I am with you.

_Ul._ Next, when he was sought in vain, Men looked to me; ay, and to me it fell To learn that he was lurking in this isle Of Scyros, in the court of Lycomedes. 119 The king denied the charge, adding in challenge, That I might come and make what search I pleased; Now mark...

_Dio_. I listen, but thou tellest nothing. Why search we not the court if he be there, Instead of this old hill?

_Ul._ ’Tis that I come to. King Lycomedes hath been one of those Who have held their arms aloof from our alliance, On the main plea of this Achilles’ absence. What if he play the game here for his friends, And hide the lad lest they be forced to fight?

_Dio._ That well might be. And if the king would hide him, 130 Thy hope would hit upon him thus at hazard?

_Ul._ Call me not fool. Attend and hear my plot: Nor marvel, Diomede, to learn that he, Whom the high gods name champion of the Greeks, Lurks in the habit of a girl disguised Amid the maidens of this island court.

_Dio._ That were too strange. How guess you that?

_Ul._ My spies, Who have searched the isle, say there’s no youth thereon, Having Achilles’ age of sixteen years, But is well known of native parentage. 140 Now Thetis’ son must be of wondrous beauty, That could not scape inquiry; we therefore look For what is hid, and not to be disguised Save as I guess.

_Dio._ If this be so, thy purpose Is darker still.

_Ul._ I lead thee by the steps I came myself to take, slowly and surely... And next this, that ’twere dull to ask the king To help to find the thing he goes to hide: Therefore the search must be without his knowledge. ’Twas thus I sent up Abas to the court, 150 Idly to engage him in preliminaries, The while I work; my only hope being this, To come myself to parley with the maidens; Which to procure I brought with me aboard A pedlar’s gear, and with such gawds and trinkets As tickle girlish fancies, I shall steal Upon them at their play; my hoary beard And rags will set them at their ease; and while They come about me, and turn o’er my pack, I spy. If then Achilles be among them, 160 The lad’s indifference soon will mark him out; When, watching my occasion, I’ll exhibit Something that should provoke his eye and tongue. If he betray himself, thou being at hand....

_Dio._ Why, ’tis a dirty trick.

_Ul._ Not if it wins.

_Dio._ Fie! fie! In rags and a white beard?

_Ul._ No better way.

_Dio._ The better way were not to lose the hour Hearkening to oracles, while our good ships Rot, and our men grow stale. Why, you may see Imperial Agamemnon in the eyes 171 Of all his armament walk daily forth To take fresh note of sparrows and of snakes: And if he spy an eagle, ’twill make talk For twenty days. Would you have oracles, Give me the whipping of the priests. Zeus help me! If half the chiefs knew but their minds as I, There’d be no parleying. I’ll to war alone And with my eighty ships do what I may ’Gainst gods and men. Ay, and the greater odds The better fighting.

_Ul._ Now ’tis thou that talkest. 181

_Dio._ Tell me then why we are prowling on this hill.

_Ul._ Excellent reasons. First that when I come I may know how to come, and where to hide From them I would not meet: and thereto this, That if Achilles fly, he should not take us At too great disadvantage: thou mayst head him, Knowing the ground about, while I pursue. He must not scape. But hark, ’tis time the plot Were put to proof; already it must be noon; 190 And I hear steps and voices. Let us return To the ship. If they that come be those we seek, ... Hark, and ’tis they,—we can look back upon them. I’ll be amongst them soon.

_Dio._ ’Tis a girl’s game.

[_Exeunt into the bushes._

_Enter Deidamia, Achilles as Pyrrha, with the chorus of maidens._

_DEIDAMIA_ (_without_).

Follow me, follow. I lead the race. [_Enters._

_CHORUS._

Follow, we follow, we give thee chase. [_Entering._

_Deid._ Follow me, follow.

_Ch._ We come, we come.

_Deid._ Here is my home; I choose this tree: this is the ground 200 Where we will make our play. Stand all around, And let us beg the dwellers in this glade To bear us company. Be not afraid, (I will begin) sweet birds, whose flowery songs Sprinkle with joy the budding boughs above, The airy city where your light folk throngs, Each with his special exquisite of love,— Red-throat and white-throat, finch and golden-crest, Deep-murmuring pigeon, and soft-cooing dove,— Unto his mate addrest, that close in nest 210 Sits on the dun and dappled eggs all day. Come red-throat, white-throat, finch and golden-crest, Let not our merry play drive you away.

_Ch._ And ye brown squirrels, up the rugged bark That fly, and leap from bending spray to spray, And bite the luscious shoots, if I should mark, Slip not behind the trunks, nor hide away.— Ye earthy moles, that burrowing in the dark Your glossy velvet coats so much abuse;— 219 Ye watchful dormice, and small skipping shrews, Stay not from foraging; dive not from sight.— Come moles and mice, squirrels and skipping shrews, Come all, come forth, and join in our delight.

_Deid._ Enough. Now while the Dryads of the hill Interpret to the creatures our good will, Listen, and I will tell you a new game That we can play together.—As hither I came, I marked that in the hazel copse below, Where we so oft have hidden and loved to go To hear the night-bird, or to take unseen 230 Our noontide walks beneath the tangled screen, The woodcutter hath been with cruel blade, And of the tasselled plumes his strewage made: And by the mossy moots the covert shorn Now lieth low in swathe like autumn corn. These ere he lop and into bundles bind, Let us go choose the fairest we may find, And of their feathered orphan saplings weave A bowery dome, until the birds believe We build a nest, and are come here to dwell. 240 Hie forth, ye Scyrian maids; do as I tell: And having built our bower amid the green, We will choose one among us for a queen, And be the Amazons, whose maiden clan By broad Thermodon dwells, apart from man; Who rule themselves, from his dominion free, And do all things he doth, better than he. First, Amazons, your queen: to choose her now: Who shall she be?

_Ch._ Thyself, thou. Who but thou? Deidamia.

_Deid._ Where then were the play, 250 If I should still command, and ye obey?

_Ch._ Choose thou for all.

_Deid._ Nor will I name her, lest Ye say my favour sets one o’er the rest.

_Ch._ Thy choice is ours.

_Deid._ If then I gave my voice For Pyrrha?

_Ch._ Pyrrha, Pyrrha is our choice. Hail, Pyrrha, hail! Queen of the Amazons!

_Deid._ (_To Ach._). To thee I abdicate my place, and give My wreath for crown. Long, my queen, mayst thou live! Now, fellow-subjects, hie we off at once.

_ACHILLES._

Stay, stay! Is this the privilege of the throne? 260 Am I preferred but to be left alone? No guard, no counsellor, no company! Deidamia, stay!

_Deid._ Thy word must be My law, O queen: I will abide. But ye Forth quickly, as I said; ye know the place.

_Ch._ Follow me, follow: I lead the race. Follow, we follow, we give thee chase. Follow me, follow. We come, we come. [_Exeunt Chor._

_Ach._ I could not bear that thou shouldst strain thy hands270 Dragging those branches up the sunny hill; Nor for a thousand honours thou shouldst do me, Making me here thy queen, would I consent To lose thy company, even for an hour. See, while the maids warm in their busy play, We may enjoy in quiet the sweet air, And thro’ the quivering golden green look up To the deep sky, and have high thoughts as idle And bright, as are the small white clouds becalmed In disappointed voyage to the noon: 280 There is no better pastime.

_Deid._ I will sit with thee In idleness, while idleness can please.

_Ach._ It is not idleness to steep the soul In nature’s beauty: rather every day We are idle letting beauteous things go by Unheld, or scarce perceived. We cannot dream Too deeply, nor o’erprize the mood of love, When it comes on us strongly, and the hour Is ripe for thought.

_Deid._ I have a thought, a dream; If thou canst keep it secret.

_Ach._ I am thy slave. 290

_Deid._ Suppose—’tis more than that, yet I’ll but say Suppose—we played this game of Amazons In earnest. What an isle this Scyros were; Rich and wellplanted, and its rocky coast Easy of defence: the women now upon it Could hold it. Nay, I have often thought it out: The king my sire is threescore years and more, And hath no heir: suppose that when he dies,— The gods defer it long, but when he dies, If thou and I should plan to seize this isle, 300 Drive out the men, and rule it for our own ... Wouldst thou work with me, Pyrrha, the thing could be. Why shouldst thou smile? I do not say that I Would rate my strength with men; but on the farms Women are thicker sinewed; and in thee I see what all might be. I am sure for speed No man could match thee, and thou hast an arm To tug an oar or hurl the heaviest spear, Or wrestle with the best. Why dost thou smile?

_Ach._ When thou art queen, I’ll be thy general.

_Deid._ That was my thought. What dost thou think?

_Ach._ I think That Fate hath marked me for a general. 312

_Deid._ Nay, but I jest not.

_Ach._ Then shall I forecast And weigh impediments against thee? as men Will in like case, who think no scheme mature Till counsel hath forestalled all obstacles.

_Deid._ If thou canst think of any.

_Ach._ First is this, Whence shall we get our subjects when our isle Is peopled but by women?

_Deid._ Fairly asked, Had I not thought of it. We shall import them 320 From other isles. Girl children everywhere Are held of small account: these we will buy, Bartering for them our fruits and tapestries, And chiefly from the country whence thou comest; For there I think the women must be taller And stronger than with us.

_Ach._ And who will act Persuader to the maidens of the isle To banish all their lovers?