ACT I

SCENE: _Pelagon's garden, Athens. Wall, rear, shutting off street. Upper right, path to street gate. Upper and middle left, entrances to Pelagon's house. Lower left, path to a neighbor's dwelling. Lower right, path leading deeper into garden._

[_Enter, upper left, Pelagon, Stesilaus and Lysander_]

_Lys._ A gracious senate! If such welcome keys The tune to come, then our ambassadry Is concord's instrument, and we may bear Fair music back to Sparta.

_Ste._ Tut, the smiles Of Athens are as flying leaves, divorced From the tree's heart, as apt to light On vagrancy as merit.

_Pel._ Stesilaus Bears hard as truth. Yet I was warmed to note The council's greeting.

_Ste._ Ever Sparta's friend!

_Pel._ And friend of peace. The age no more can bear The locked alarum of our rivalling States. We must the groaning tussle bring to end, Or ends the world.

_Lys._ 'Twas wisdom's cue you gave us,-- To say we had our Sparta's sovereign word For Athens' terms.

_Pel._ Ay, hold your embassage Unstrictured, friends. In that lies flattery Each lord will take to himself and thereon feed A grace which will, in sort, come back to you. What hour was fixed for answer? I lost that.

_Lys._ The last hour of the sun.

_Pel._ The crier stood Wrong side of my good ear, and I'll not twist To set the gossips nudging me to th' grave, Robbed in a shrug of twenty grizzled years. [_Looks about the garden_] Where's Biades? He's always trailing here, Save in the tick of need. I'd have him bid The ambassadors lie at my house. Lysander, You'll be my suitor to your comrades? Say We've heart and room for all.

_Lys._ For all, my lord?

_Pel._ And more!

[_Exit Lysander_]

_Ste._ My Sparta thanks you, Pelagon.

_Pel._ Nay, such an honor shall not pass me, sir. Now where is Biades?

_Ste._ Your nephew, friend?

_Pel._ Ay, Stesilaus. Bar my blood in him, He'll fasten on your heart.

_Ste._ Report has been Too dear his friend. What buzz about a youth Of twenty-five! Sir, Attica is mad To give him captainship. In Sparta now, The spurring callant would be kept in ranks, And yoked with Prudence till he learned her jog.

_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.

_Bia._ Somewhat will grow to much ere you take leave.

_Ste._ I fear it, Biades.

_Bia._ And yet, my lord, Time has not carried him ahead of you More years than half a score.

_Ste._ Tis t'other way. I'm elder by that much.

_Bia._ Not you, my lord? [_Muses flatteringly_] The Spartan way is best. Was 't Pelagon Led you to say you had full power to treat With Athens?

_Ste._ It was he.

_Bia._ I thought it. [_Sighs_] Sir, In the Athenian mind there dwells a child No length of days can age. We do not grow As Spartans. But our vanity's no dwarf. Tops with the highest, you've some cause to know.

_Ste._ What of 't? Unlatch! unlatch!

_Bia._ The people, sir, Always our rearward urge, knowing you've power To assent to all they ask, will ask for more Than all.

_Ste._ Think'st that?

_Bia._ In your brave time you've met Athenians of the best. Didst ever know One modest?--slow to ask for what he thought His own?--or what he might by mere demand Make his?

_Ste._ They are well stomached,--true. No doubt They'll press us far.

_Bia._ They will. And if refused,-- Well, they are children,--and must bite and scratch. With strutting rage, may pelt you out of Athens. But why not say you are in part empowered. And must return to Sparta with the terms Before a vowed conclusion?

_Ste._ Late for that, Young sir. The tongue we used to the Council Must serve in the Assembly. We have said We have full power.

_Bia._ To treat, not to assent. That was your word.

_Ste._ Hmm! Now the cloud is off The dunce's script, and I read clear why you At twenty-five have Athens' voice to sail 'Gainst Syracuse.

[_Re-enter Pelagon_]

_Bia._ No word unto my uncle!

_Ste._ My brain will serve.

_Pel._ They've come,--your comrades,--all! If honor now were substance, my poor walls Would groaningly unroof and beg the sky For room to embrace it! Go you, Biades. Repeat my welcome, with increase of grace Your tongue is rich in. [_Exit Biades, upper left_] Now the full time comes. We'll speak of that that's centre of our hearts,-- Our daughters, friend. This is the hour that ends A watch of twenty years.

_Ste._ A patient score. So long your daughter has been mine, so long Has mine been yours.

_Pel._ Like flower upon a stalk Long nursed and tended, comes the end upon This day of budding peace. You've had no whiff, No hint untoward, that what we did had best Been left undone?

_Ste._ Sir, what I do, I do! When we changed babes not past their cradle sleep, My mind then glossed the act with comment fair As our unfructured hope. So does it still. By Nestor, though I'm thitherward of prime, There's none will say that with accreted years I moult sagacity!

_Pel._ Eh, so! 'Twas well. I've never doubted it. Here have I reared Your Phania, Spartan-thewed, who now shall home With Athens' gentle nurture in her veins To hither yearn in blood of every son She bears to Sparta. And you my Pyrrha bring Back to her land to live a Spartan dame Among Athenian mothers. So we feed The unity we dream on,--quicken time, Foresued, to give our tousing, touchy States One civic heart.

_Ste._ Has Sachinessa kept A secret tongue?

_Pel._ A nut not closer sits About its kernel. And your wife, my friend? What of Archippe? Did she hold for long Against the exchange?

_Ste._ She did. Nor ever learned To love your Pyrrha. For that cause,--and that Our even trust might move with even faith, Nor odds of grace to you,--I've stood her guard, And made her comrade where a son might claim The dearest post.

_Pel._ Good thanks, my Stesilaus. From your wife's audit I'd not brush a doit, But to the credit of my dame can set A fairer sum. Æneas' curlèd lad Lay not more dearly in his Dido's lap Than your sweet Phania in the swaddling love Of Sachinessa. Ay, she'll swear me now That not to gain her own will she give up Her foster darling.

_Ste._ Humph!

_Pel._ The little duck! She has so chucked herself into my heart 'Twill put me sad about to oust her.

_Ste._ Duck! When I lose Pyrrha, sir, that hour I lose This good right arm!

_Pel._ [_Meditative_] Hmm! So!... Come, my friend. The dinner's toward, and the host astray. The love's deep-vouched that puts such duty off For one more word. [_Pauses as they move left_] We'll give no open voice To our most dear concern till we have met Our daughters.

_Ste._ [_Gloomy_] Met our daughters! Have it so.

[_Exeunt upper left. Enter, middle left, Phania and Biades_]

_Bia._ Come, Phania! The old cocks are off.

_Pha._ They're gone?

_Bia._ Good flitting too! I feared they'd perch till night, Crowing the deeds of Stesilaus the Great And Pelagon the Wise.

_Pha._ These Spartans! If They'd rest their clubs without the door, our shins Would give them thanks. Why are we so besieged?

_Bia._ Why, Phania, why? Because your father dotes On dull and sodden peace that never was Save in an old man's dream. We dine our foes! The city must throw ope her gates, forsooth, Lest the dear enemy should take some hurt Scaling the walls! They'd bleed us as we sleep, And Pelagon would vow the sword at 's throat Were Sachinessa's dozing kiss.

_Pha._ Ho, hear The captain speak! You go to Syracuse, And not content? 'Tis well there's one cries peace.

_Bia._ What's Syracuse? To conquer Sparta,--that Were warrior's work! Your father robs me of it, Bringing the water where I set my fires. But come! I've not made love to a soul to-day Save ancient Sparta. Ha! it is an art That should be spared such sweat. The Heavens mean That I shall pull to yoke these two days left, And love take beggar's chance.

_Pha._ Ah, but two days!

_Bia._ Come to our myrtle nook----

_Pha._ Nay, Sybaris Might turn me out. That is her royal seat When you'll play consort.

_Bia._ What, my Phania? Dour? Does Creon keep away?

_Pha._ I'm not for him. You know it, Biades.

_Bia._ But he does not. Too oft I find him here.

_Pha._ And Sybaris Comes out of count, knowing you like this spot. Yon path is worn of every blade.

_Bia._ Her feet Can be so cruel?

_Pha._ You love her still!

_Bia._ Nay, sweet. Not for three days. Believe me, cousin!

_Pha._ _Cousin!_ Athene save us! See her now,--the plague!

_Bia._ By gentle Eros, Phania, we'll be kind. I loved her once.

_Pha._ How tall she is!

_Bia._ Ay, moves A very sylph!

[_Sybaris comes on, lower right_]

_Syb._ A fair day's greeting, friends!

_Bia._ We double it for thee.

_Pha._ My dearest Syb! Do you turn snail, you keep your house so long? Why, _hours_, I think!

_Syb._ Indeed!

_Bia._ Where lovers watch The dial, that's an age.

_Pha._ Oh, so!

_Bia._ [_To Phania_] Do I Not know?

_Syb._ An age? Ay, love grows old and fades in 't.

_Bia._ A thousand moons in journey o'er my love Would leave 't no withered hour! By the fair soul Of one who knows me true!

_Syb._ That is no woman.

_Pha._ A pretty oath!

_Syb._ But not a new one, dear.

_Bia._ Plead, Phania, dove! Let her not chide Poor penitence on knee. In two days' time I sail to war, yet stony Sybaris Would break love's wings with doubt--put me aboard With sighs to sink my ship----

_Pha._ Nay, Sybaris! I'll vow him constant now.

_Syb._ Inconstancy Once stopped for breath, and fools came with a chair.

_Bia._ No thaw in thee? Plead, Phania, sweet! Your lips Are unimpeached where mine too oft have worn Conviction's droop.

_Pha._ Forgive, dear Sybaris!

_Bia._ Ay, be my tongue! Tell her that as the bee Betrays the honey-buds yet hiveward flies, I've left all by-roads for the true home-path.

_Syb._ Then you have trailed all others stale. There's none Left new but that.

_Bia._ Tell her when I have sailed From Athens' eyes into the sun that eve May skirt with blood----

_Pha._ No, no!

_Bia._ --to walk with you The haven's brim, watching the waves that throw The sea-heart there, and know that from my ship Pulses a heart to love's dream-sandalled feet As constant as the sea to Athens' shore. [_Sybaris moves relentingly nearer. Biades behind Phania, who sits on bench, leans to talk into her ear, but keeps his eyes tenderly on Sybaris_] Ah, tell her, Phania, sleep is slow to come Where warriors bed, and unforgiven hours Are thorny comrades for an age-long night.

_Syb._ Then here's my hand. Pray Pallas 'tis no fool's!

_Bia._ Yours too, my Phania! In one breath I seal Judge and defender mine! [_Kissing their hands_] Now with my ship Will prayers go tendant, mending every sail That storm may batter. Typhon, whirl the sea To insurrection,--send her meekest wave To crinkle round the sun, and hiss from Heaven The mariner's port-star,--I shall be safe While I have implorators fair as ye To melt the gods!

_Syb._ Ah, Biades, thou must Be loved or die. Is 't heart or vanity, That's so insatiate?

_Pha._ Nay, you have forgiven!

_Syb._ But will not coo yet. Is that Creon comes? [_Looking to upper right_] You'll meet him, Phania?

_Pha._ He knows his way.

_Bia._ Has news! I'll pick the pigeon. [_Goes up right_]

_Pha._ O, my Sybaris, Thanks for this generous peace! But who could long Be harsh to Biades?

_Syb._ Such steel's not in me. I but stood off, a shadow of resolve, To hear him woo me back. His coldest words Are ta'en from music, but when warm in suit, Then music sues to him.

_Pha._ Woo _you_? Didst say _Woo you_? Couldst think--couldst dream--couldst let blind sense So flatter?

_Syb._ Blind? Well, you've no eye to lend.

_Pha._ His words were all for me, and through my heart Were sifted to your ears.

_Syb._ For you, my dear? Now what a gosling 'tis!

_Pha._ Oh! Ask him then!

_Syb._ You'll beat that bush. I have no doubt in cover.

[_Biades returns with Creon_]

_Cre._ You'll not go out?

_Bia._ No, friend.

_Cre._ I warn you, sir! It is your reputation left i' the street That knocks for you.

_Bia._ 'Twill care for itself.

_Cre._ Nay, come! Soon every ear in Athens will be crammed Wi' the tale.

_Syb._ What tale?

_Cre._ 'Tis said that Biades Was cap and spur to riot that defaced The Hermæ yesternight.

_Bia._ Denosed, you mean.

_Pha._ O, do not jest! I tremble, Biades!

_Cre._ You must o'ertake the lie, my lord, ere winds Be up with 't.

_Bia._ Let it fly, my Creon. When Its wings are worn 'twill down for any heel To trample.

_Cre._ Not this feather. It broods on the air, And its dark issue makes eclipse your sun Can push no beam through.

_Bia._ Sinon's pate has hatched The ebon chick.

_Cre._ You're not far out. He wants The generalship.

[_Enter Hippargus, upper right_]

_Bia._ Here comes a tongue to market. Most purchasable, tho' neither cut nor dried.

_Cre._ The senate's messenger!

_Bia._ Greeting, Hippargus.

_Hip._ Greeting, my lord,--and I must lay command On that, for you are charged on the instant to appear Before the Council.

_Bia._ The instant? Cramped to that? And what to do there, sir?

_Hip._ Give proof you touched With no profaning and injurious hand Our threshold gods.

_Bia._ Go gently back, Hippargus, And tell the senators I pardon them, Knowing they do mistake. They would not lay So dull an antic on me, and this charge Is meant for Bico, my fat monkey here, Whom they may have for trial.

_Hip._ Spare such jest, My worthy lord. A hundred tongues have sworn You said in open street, nor cared who heard, The guardian Hermæ might be nipped of ears, And noses too, yet serve our pious turn, Since they smell out no faults and citizens Confess none.

_Bia._ Ah! Do they make wit a crime, Who have no taint of its color? Say 'twere red The senators would never be mistook For woodpeckers. Gods! When they prate, I know Athene's owl is stuffed, and her wise serpent An old-year slough! Off now! Your pannier's full. Trot and unpack.

[_Exit Hippargus_]

_Cre._ Out! Follow, and deny This answer! Dare you, standing on the top And slippery point of fortune, throw your cap In Heaven's face?

_Bia._ Dare I do less? No, friend. The Council fears me, and would see me down. My power is in the people, who for gold And merry flattery give me their love. But now they're on the quibble how to turn, To me or Sinon. I'll not let them see My office brought to question, and myself Outfaced by perjurers in Sinon's keep. Nay, when they find I'm not the senate's groom, But know myself, their pride will know me too, And I shall go to bed as I rose up, The Athenian general.

_Cre._ The street will bellow. I'll listen to it, and pick interpretation From 'ts roar. You'll come with me?

_Bia._ Though oracles, On every curb and step, begged audience, I'd not go out.

[_Exit Creon_]

_Pha._ Oh, me!

_Bia._ Why so? I'm not a hare To jump because a leaf falls. Wag the hour, And Pleasure wait on us! If she fill not My cup to-day, I fear it must go empty A good twelvemonth. There are fair maids In Syracuse, but they'll peer on me through A crimson lattice.

_Pha._ You'll not see them, sir! Or break a thousand oaths! So oft you've sworn No beauty out of Athens could persuade Your eyes to worship.

_Syb._ Then the Spartan maid Lodged here will let him sleep.

_Bia._ What maid is this?

_Pha._ Why, Pyrrha,--Stesilaus' daughter.

_Bia._ Here?

_Pha._ Ay, everybody's here.

_Syb._ I saw her leave The chariot. Such clothes!

_Pha._ _No_ clothes, you mean!

_Syb._ [_In shocked aside_] Just to the knees!

_Pha._ And open to the hips!

_Syb._ You say it!

_Pha._ And manners, none. I took her nuts And sugared poppy seeds. She said she kept No parrot.

_Syb._ Here's a guest!

_Pha._ And when I said I _lived_ on them----

_Bia._ My dainty!

_Pha._ --then she asked If that made me so little!

_Bia._ Ay, they feed To grow in Sparta. Breed but monsters there. No arts, no grace, no soft and tendrilled speech That creeps to ends of being and looks back Exultant and afraid. They are not men, But, wearing human port, would force on us A beastly comradeship. Set me to woo A toad bred in a ditch of Attica, But not a maid of Sparta! Were she fair As was Persephone when she drew the god From nether earth, yet sprung from that hard soil, I'd let her beauty pass.

_Syb._ Hist, Biades! She's yonder.

[_They look middle left, where Pyrrha appears_]

_Pha._ I like the garden best when 't wears Pale Cybele's gown. Apollo makes it harsh In black and gold--Ah, Pyrrha! You have found Our blossomy corner. Welcome to it, and know My neighbor, Sybaris,--and Biades.

_Pyrr._ I greet you, friends of Athens.

_Pha._ Will you sit?

_Bia._ [_Who has not removed his gaze from her since her entrance_] A walk! That was your wish. I'll show the paths.

_Syb._ Nay, here's a seat.

_Bia._ There's Artystone's rose, Brought from the Mysian stream----

_Pha._ She'll stay with us.

_Bia._ The ivory cup of Isis, where each night Her one tear falls,--and flowers whose sisters blow In walled Ecbatana.

_Syb._ Come, sit by me, Dear Pyrrha.

_Pyrr._ I would see the garden.

_Syb._ [_Rising_] Would? We'll guide you then.

_Pha._ Ay, who would dawdle here?

_Bia._ But rest a moment, Pyrrha. I mind me now, That from this spot the eye may best o'ersweep The full design. Yon mass of planes----

_Pyrr._ I'll walk Alone. [_Moves off, lower right_]

_Syb._ Well!

_Pha._ Said I not?

_Syb._ Does nothing that She's asked! And stares as though a woman's eyes Were made to see with, when their chiefest use Is not to see!

_Pha._ Crude as her Spartan rocks!

_Bia._ I'll follow.

_Syb._ Nay, she'd _walk alone_!

_Bia._ She's Athens' guest. I'll not be rude, whatever lack in her Provokes me to it.

_Pha._ Nor shall I, by all The grace in th' world!

_Syb._ You shame us, Biades. We'll go with you.

[_Each taken an arm of Biades as he goes right. Pelagon enters, upper left_]

_Pel._ Daughter, this way!

[_Phania returns reluctantly. The others pass off, right_]

_Pel._ My chick,-- Nay, I'll be brief. I know young feet would flock.

_Pha._ O, father dear, I'd please you first! [_Kissing him_]

_Pel._ Well, well!... You've seen Lord Stesilaus?

_Pha._ Just a peek.

_Pel._ Nay, he's no bear.

_Pha._ He'll bite though. I know that.

_Pel._ Now, Phania, now! I have a reason, miss, A most dear reason you should win the love Of Stesilaus.

_Pha._ Love!

_Pel._ I mean, my duck, A father's gentle love.

_Pha._ But, daddy, he's---- So tall!

_Pel._ He has a heart, my daughter.

_Pha._ Fum! Are you so sure?

_Pel._ Find it the shortest way. Remember he's your--hmm!--remember--hmm!-- That he's a man--as I am--and his pride But April frost. Be as he were myself----

_Pha._ As you? Oh, dear! [_Under his arm_] And must I cuddle so? Nay, that's for my own fa-fa!

_Pel._ Little Phania! I'll lose my pipit,--lose my bonny bird!

_Pha._ Lose me? O, never, daddy, never! I'm Your pipsey, wipsey, umpsey, ownty own!

_Pel._ [_Resolutely_] Wait here. I'll send him by.

_Pha._ But, father, why----

_Pel._ Nay, that's my secret. Not for little birds.

[_Exit upper left. Phania waits until he disappears, then turns flying, and vanishes lower right. Archippe and Sachinessa enter, middle left_]

_Sac._ Blest be Athene, there's nobody here! The house is overrun, and Pelagon Has twenty shadows, one at every door. Out, in,--in, out,--with ears like aprons held For every whisper! Here we're safe to talk.

_Arc._ O, dearest Sachinessa, what's to do?

_Sac._ We'll go to Philon. If he says confess----

_Arc._ Confess? I'll never do it! I will take What way he will but that, though 't be the one Leads out of life. You do not know my lord!

_Sac._ Your Stesilaus is no god, Archippe. I'll tell you that.

_Arc._ If it should come to him We never changed our daughters! If he learns That twenty years I've made him wear the hood, His roof no more would shade me. Nay! Confess? Oh, Sachinessa, I should lose him quite!

_Sac._ That could be borne, I think.

_Arc._ But lose my Pyrrha? Be driven out from her? See her no more?

_Sac._ There, friend, you stir me. Such a piece of man! To strike like that because a woman's wit Has clipped his own! He's not suspected you In all these years?

_Arc._ Not once. I've watched myself As I were my own jailer, fenced my heart, And made my love a thief that gave my child No open looks, but by her bed at night Stole comfort as she slept.

_Sac._ Not I, Archippe! I've laughed above the snores of Pelagon, Knowing my darling near, whom he thought far As Sparta. Come! You're taller by a head Than I, yet die with quaking. And I thought Each Lacedæmon wife a lioness.

_Arc._ Ah, but their lords are lions.

_Sac._ Well, they've mane Enough, but they'd not shake it in my face.

_Arc._ Will you confess?

_Sac._ Why, no. For Pelagon Would play the spousal saint, sit on the clouds, And with a piety intolerable Forgive his perjured wife. What soul could bear it? But I'll not part with Phania, know you that!

_Arc._ What then?

_Sac._ We'll go to Philon. How to keep Our secret and our daughters,--that's a nut To break the oracle's teeth.

_Arc._ If 't can be done!

_Sac._ It must be done, Archippe. Come,--I hear A chatter. This way out.

[_They leave, upper right. Biades, Pyrrha, Sybaris, and Phania enter lower right_]

_Pha._ What of our garden, Now all is seen?

_Pyrr._ Here gods should live, not men. At every turn I seemed to lose the step Of a departing deity.

_Syb._ We are content With our Athenian lords, and seek no charm To turn them into gods.

_Bia._ [_Showing a locket_] I've here a charm Does more than that. This jewel webbed In mystic rings--and set----

_Syb._ The Persian gem! You promised me----

_Bia._ It is a magic stone, That gazed upon by a true-minded maid----

_Pha._ [_Securing the trinket_] I'll see it, sir! I've heard you vow your bride Should wear this locket.

_Bia._ [_To Phania_] So she shall. [_To Sybaris_] None else! [_To Pyrrha_] You hear my oath. Come, Sybaris, sit here And, Phania,--come! You both shall peep at fate Through a ruby portal, if your hearts be true. Now fix your look----

_Pha._ We'll see the same!

_Bia._ Not so. Each fortune's connate with the gazer's star, And tinted as she dreams. Direct your eyes With flawless constancy, or you'll see naught.

_Pha._ Not lift them once?

_Bia._ Nay, fasten every thought Deep in the jewel's fire, till I have said The Persian chant of welcome to the spirit Whose magic you shall see.

_Pha._ A spirit? Oh!

_Bia._ But she is fair,--framed as divinity For adoration.

_Syb._ She!

_Bia._ Lift not your eyes.

[_Stands behind Phania and Sybaris and makes the incantation an ardent address to Pyrrha_]

Spirit of Fate, what mystical wooing May win thee to pause where we pray? Misers of Dream their locks are undoing,-- Mistress of Keys, wilt thou stay?

Priestess, thyself, O fairer than dreaming, Art deity's answer to prayer! Dusk in thine eyes is the seer-burthen gleaming, And moon-wands at rest in thy hair.

Far-foot Desire is lost in the winding Of valleys and gardens of thee! Hoop of white arms is circumferent binding The star-pastured world and me!

[_Sybaris throws the locket at his feet. He turns and sees that she and Phania have risen and are staring at him_]

_Pyrr._ [_After a silence_] I do not know this game. Will leave you to it. [_Exit, middle left_]

_Syb._ And I'll go home! [_Exit, lower left_]

_Pha._ And I'll go tell my father! [_Exit, upper left_]

_Bia._ And I'll go stand in th' donkey mart and bray Till a farmer buys me! Witched, and by a Spartan! Mad as the fleeing ass of Thessaly! [_Exit, upper right_]

[_Curtain_]