ACT II

SCENE: _The same as first act, a few minutes later. Phania in discovered in rear. Stesilaus walks frozenly back and forth, front, while she timidly advances and retreats._

_Pha._ [_Approaching_] I'm Phania, sir.

_Ste._ [_Looks at her incredulously, then walks left, leaving her centre_] My blood and bone in that! What dwarf-dish has she fed on? Ugh!

_Pha._ [_Crossing_] I've come To walk with you. You like our garden, sir? We've bulbuls in it,--and wee, visiting wings From the unknown south. Can see them if you watch A place I know. They dart like breathing bits Of chrysoprase and sard o' the sun.

_Ste._ Humph! You Are Phania?

_Pha._ [_Braver_] Troth, I am! Wilt see a nest-- So small as--that! Could put it on your thumb. [_Takes his hand_] I'll show you, sir. Don't you love _little_ things? They wiggle to the heart, my daddy says. You love my _daddy_, don't you?

_Ste._ Ugh! Your--Ugh!

_Pha._ [_Defensive_] _I_ love him,--yes, and all his friends. I do, Though they're--so tall. I come just to your beard. See now! [_Leans against him_]

_Ste._ Get off! You squeaking pewit! Ugh!

_Pha._ [_Quiveringly_] Have I displeased you, sir?

_Ste._ Displeased me? No. You make contentment creep on honored bones Far back as Lacedæmon's earliest grave That opened for my house. You turn my blood That's not yet earthed, and hot as Sparta's pride, To drops that mutiny 'gainst their own succession And beg to be the end. Displeased? Oh, no! [_Retires, rear_]

_Pha._ Oh, sir----

[_Fails, and goes off weeping, lower right. Enter, upper right, Biades and Creon_]

_Cre._ But this confusion, many-throated, Has single voice and warns articulate. A treasonous tempest rises, and you stand A god indifferent when you should bethink Yourself most mortal. Vilest mouths puff bold In Sinon's service. You must wax your way To th' Council----

_Bia._ Nay, no bending there!

_Cre._ But----

_Bia._ Peace! Here's Stesilaus! He's most heavy shipped. What is aboard? And now comes Pelagon, With 's threshing-tongue a-ready. Chaff will fly.

[_Enter Pelagon, upper left_]

_Pel._ What thinkst of Phania? Is she not a chick?

_Ste._ You've tricked me, Pelagon! What fubbery Have you put on me?

_Pel._ Sir? Now, now! Why, friend!

_Ste._ That's not my daughter!

_Bia._ [_Drawing Creon back_] Whist!

_Ste._ I'll see my own! _My_ Phania! Not that bib,--that mewling piece, With th' milk still in her mouth!

_Pel._ Speak so of her? A bud in th' dew! A cherry next its leaf! A pippin on the limb!

_Ste._ Not mine, I say!

_Pel._ If you repent you did beget her, sir, I'll be your shift and own the curtained deed 'Fore man and Heaven.

_Ste._ That my child?

_Pel._ Yours, friend.

_Ste._ Would she had never left Archippe's lap For Sachinessa's! Patience, cool my tongue! But I've done better by your Pyrrha!

_Pel._ Soft, Beseech you, Stesilaus! Here's no place For trumpeting our secret. And brief time Forbids it present voice. The hour is on To hear the people's answer. Come, my lord. Your comrades go before you. We're past late.

_Ste._ Friend Pelagon, though courtesy be pressed To th' kibe, I'll urge you keep at home. 'Tis best You be not seen in this. The lords, who know You lean to Sparta,--and for that all thanks,-- Are pricked therewith to oppose us, when they else Might voice us favor.

_Pel._ Ay, they know me, friend. My eye sets them at guard. They feel it, sir! Puts them on screw. Well, so,--I'll stay behind. But let me set you forth. [_Exeunt, upper right_]

_Bia._ Is 't trick, or truth?

_Cre._ Touch me! A needle's point Could find no spot amazement hath not taken!

_Bia._ Didst hear it Creon? Pyrrha an Athenian! O, words of miracle, if ye be true,-- Friend, friend, I'm in a whirl upon a way To use this strange unearthment for the good Of Athens. You'll be silent. Creon?

_Cre._ Nay, I think----

_Bia._ And now I've lost fair Phania!

_Cre._ Lost?

_Bia._ With Mars i' the dusk of this debated time, The Athenian general may not wive himself With Sparta.

_Cre._ True!

_Bia._ I might give up command, And be no more my country's armored watch.... Nay, Attica is first! That's sworn. I'll plunge The sacrificial knife deep as my love. And now 'tis done. Ah, Creon, tend thee well My gentle loss.

_Cre._ This sets thee o'er thyself! O noblest bounty that in grace compeers With emulous Heaven! What in me can pay----

_Bia._ No more of 't now. But what a secret this! If 't solely were my own--

_Cre._ It is, my lord! 'Tis yours. I have no speech, no tongue for 't!

_Bia._ Thanks, My Creon, thanks! And will you go once more To th' street, where now it seems I have some need Of loyal ears?

_Cre._ I serve you, Biades. [_Exit, upper right_]

_Bia._ Fast hooked, and feels no barb. If he'll lie dark Till I would stir the waters.... Is it truth? Pyrrha! Athenian born and Spartan bred! By Mars and Eros! Here's a captain's bride! There's flutter in me like a forest shook With waking birds!

[_Re-enter Phania, still weeping_]

_Bia._ Why, Phania! Such a shower, My kitkin!

_Pha._ Stesilaus sh-shook me so! Called me a sque-e-aking pewit!

_Bia._ Ha! He did? Well, listen to me, Phania. Come, look up. [_Lifts her chin_] A maid with little eyes should never weep. Leave that to Juno orbs. They swim in sorrow Like full moons in a lake, but beads like yours Are only bright when dry. Shun grief as you Shun mud. [_Exit, middle left_]

_Pha._ [_Gasping_] Why--Biades--he's gone! He said---- Oh, oh! If I could die----

[_Sobs with abandon. Enter Alcanor, upper left. He pauses before her. She looks up bewildered_]

_Alc._ Ah, gentle star, What shrouds thee in this rain? Yet thou'rt not hid. Thy beauty shining on these clouds of pearl Makes every drop that dies reflecting thee A little, falling sun.

_Pha._ Oh, Biades said---- He said--he said----

_Alc._ If what he said so troubles, Let me unsay it with a kiss that makes Trouble forgot and dumb. [_Kisses her_]

_Pha._ [_On his bosom_] I'm not--I'm not-- Not _ugly_, sir?

_Alc._ O, dove of Aphrodite! Earth stores her beauty in this single face, That she may show one jewel to the skies When gods boast they have all!

[_Phania purrs comfortedly, then releases herself_]

_Pha._ How dare you, sir, Attack me? Who are you?

_Alc._ I do not know.

_Pha._ Not know?

_Alc._ Nothing of self or where I am. It may be those are trees on giant guard, And these bright peeping things are flowers' eyes, And this is happy grass we stand upon, And that blue watcher is the faithful sky, But I know naught except my soul is yours, O, maid-magician, in whose snare I lie Kissing the net that binds me! [_Kissing her fallen curls_]

_Pha._ But you know Your name!

_Alc._ Not in this world a minute old That now I find me in, but in time past I was Alcanor, Stesilaus' son.

_Pha._ O!--then--why--all is well! You're noble, sir! My father will approve you.

_Alc._ Hast a father? And art not magic-born? Then I perceive I must go back and find my earthly wits.

_Pha._ Nay, he is Pelagon, your father's friend.

_Alc._ You're Phania, then!

_Pha._ [_Giving her hand_] I am.

_Alc._ No more than this? No kiss?

_Pha._ [_Very shy_] You've had it, sir.

_Alc._ A phantom one! 'Twas in a dream, as two ghost-lovers meet On an Elysian path. Too cold for earth!

_Pha._ [_Touching her cheek_] Nay, it is warm here yet.

[_He takes her in his arms, and they withdraw lower right. Pelagon enters, upper right, in time to witness the embrace_]

_Pel._ [_Rousing from his horror_] Her brother! Gods! Whip me all hagglers! We have stood so long At door of our confession that this shame Gets by us. Phania and Alcanor! Oh! No shuffling now! When Stesilaus comes, The tale must out!

[_Enter Pyrrha, middle left. She crosses, passing Pelagon, who retreats rear, unseen by her. She loiters right_]

_Pel._ Here's opportunity At beck. I'll follow. [_Advances_] Ahem! My daughter,----

_Pyrr._ Sir? You seek your daughter? I will look this way. [_Goes farther right_]

_Pel._ I must advance, and take her Spartan guard With gentleness. My love, 'tis you I seek.

_Pyrr._ [_Stiffly_] You'd speak to me?

_Pel._ My little Pyrrha,----

_Pyrr._ Little!

_Pel._ I think of Phania. In my heart you both Hold undivided place. Shall we not chat a bit, My Pyrrha?

_Pyrr._ Kitchen maids do that, not men Of State.

_Pel._ Nay, there's a time when one may cast The civic garment and take household ease In modest robe.

_Pyrr._ [_Aside_] A swaddling band would fit him!

_Pel._ You will not hear me?

_Pyrr._ I wait upon you, sir. For if your hostship I forget, and leave The fees of grace unpaid, I yet must know You are my father's friend. Say what you will, My lord.

_Pel._ That word undears me! Let your tongue Breach colder custom and give me a name That brings me near in love as Stesilaus. Wilt call me father, Pyrrha?

_Pyrr._ [_Retreating_] You, my lord?

_Pel._ They've frozen her, poor child! Must blow more warm. Indeed a father. Call me what I am, For so I love you, Pyrrha.

_Pyrr._ Is it thus The Athens sages talk?

_Pel._ Ay, we're not cut Of ice as Spartans are. Here your poor heart Shall know what sun is, and the Springs you've lost, Betrayed without a bloom in frigid Sparta, In Athens shall blow fair. You are amazed, My sweet, but by this kiss----

_Pyrr._ [_Giving him a blow_] You goose-eyed goat! I strike not at your years, Lord Pelagon, But at your mind which has not come of age And gives me elder right.

[_Exit, middle left. While Pelagon is recovering, enter Stesilaus, upper right_]

_Pel._ [_Welcoming the interruption_] You, Stesilaus? So soon, friend, from the Assembly?

_Ste._ Late, sir, late! More haste had been more prudence.

_Pel._ Why, why, why!

_Ste._ Where is your buttery nephew, Biades? Who slips to the seat of question and melts all Into one potch of folly!

_Pel._ But I'd know----

_Ste._ Why I am here, not there? A crater mouth That calls itself a people hissed eruption Into my face, and without bow I set My back to 't, sir!

_Pel._ Blame me for all! I knew I should not stay behind! The gods do know I am the voice of Athens. 'Tis no pride That speaks bare truth. I'll go----

_Ste._ Tuh, tuh! A word with Biades----

_Pel._ But not too sharp, My friend. He is of weight----

_Ste._ No sharper than My stick! Then I set out for Sparta, where The very ground knows Stesilaus walks!

_Pel._ And Phania goes with you?

_Ste._ Not if the chit May corner in your kitchen! She's worth that.

_Pel._ You'll leave her here?

_Ste._ It will content me. I'll Surrender both.

_Pel._ What? Both! Nay, your free heart Shall not outdo my own.

_Ste._ You'll give me Pyrrha?

_Pel._ Friend of my soul, I will!

_Ste._ [_Moved_] Thanks, Pelagon. She's dearer than my son. More like my blood. Alcanor is too soft and woman-lipped. Too much Archippe in him from his birth, Nor blows could drive it out.

_Pel._ And mine own eyes Have seen a cooing match between himself And Phania.

_Ste._ Zeus! His sister!

_Pel._ While we speak, The fated pair are yonder----

_Ste._ I'll get him home! And leave the witch to you! Had I a doubt To hold me back, this turn would be Decision's point. She must stay here.

_Pel._ But how Make answer to our wives? Our wisdom's nicked Where it is tenderest if we confess.

_Ste._ What's to confess? I know my will and do it.

_Pel._ Ay, ay, you bear your wife in a sack, but mine Is on her feet and goes her pace. Look yon! They come together! A brace, and one of them Would tie my tongue.

_Ste._ Tie water in a brook!

[_Archippe and Sachinessa enter upper right_]

_Sac._ We do not come to shame you, noble lords And husbands, though we've that to bear which put To honest ballad would uncrest your pride And clip a reef or two from the tall sail Of dignity.

_Ste._ Why, madam, this approach?

_Sac._ I walk, sir, in my garden when I please.

_Arc._ We have a suit, my honored lords, which you May think full strange, remembering our prayers Of twenty years ago.

_Ste._ What suit canst have? If you must try the goose-step out of doors, Go thank the gods for suiting you with me, Who save you from all suit by hearing none.

_Sac._ Not hear us, sir? I'll catch you by the ears And shake the pride-wool out, but you shall hear! Suited with you! And then go thank the gods!

_Pel._ Why, Sachinessa, love! What you, duck?

_Sac._ This, Pelagon. When in that sad year gone You took my child from me----

_Pel._ What? That again?

_Sac._ Not that, but this. I did not stay you then, Being young in wedlock and my wit at cheep In its first feathers. But this second time When you lift up your hand to cut the bough Whose root is in my heart, I'll speak so loud That if your dull ear miss, I'll reach you yet By way o' the stars that will cry back my wrong When they so hear it.

_Pel._ You would beg for Phania?

_Sac._ I would. There is no source of love so great As brooding care. That makes the mother, not The childing pangs. Though she, from the first hour, Will cherish what she must so dearly buy, 'Tis day by watchful day her swelling love Is born. So I, as new days past, forgot The child of my brief pain, and gave to one That nestled in her place my care-born love. Now you would strike again----

_Pel._ Sweet, by my soul,-- Nay, Sachinessa, dearest heart, be calm. Your words have never in our mated life Moved me as now. If Stesilaus yields, And his stern will be broken by your plea, I am content.

_Ste._ I'm so far moved, my friend, That I will hear Archippe speak her wish. Her love for Pyrrha will not match with that Your wife bestows on Phania.

_Arc._ Ay, my lord, I've never loved the stranger as my own, But she is dearer than my own grown strange. I see in Phania all my tender loss, But it is lost forever. Give me, Pyrrha. I have no other daughter.

_Ste._ Keep her, dame. But make this weakness not your heckling ground Where you would spar for favors. No more suits!

_Pel._ And, Sachinessa, hear the same from me.

_Sac._ You borrow feathers and I'll twitch 'em out!

_Ste._ [_To Archippe_] Lest you should badger, footed safe on this, Know that my judgment's not earwigged by you To this repeal, but now configures pat To the act itself, that keeps a constant step With our first purpose. Our intent comes out With even edges, though reversed in face. An Athens' maid shall be a Spartan mother, And here shall dwell a dame of Spartan blood.

_Pel._ You hear it, Sachinessa. I'm not one To throw my pack away in sight of home. Come mud, come mire, I bear my judgment out, As Athens knows.

_Sac._ I'll swear to it there's no man I' the city better hides the sun with a sieve!

_Ste._ And secondly, my dame, know that I've won My high contention that the laws of Sparta Are best for brooding earth a godlike race. For here my proof enroots in warmest life That they can aggrandize the chalky veins Of pampered Attica to ducts that bear The red, unconquered sap of Lacedæmon.

_Sac._ So Pyrrha is your proof!

_Ste._ No question there. A weak, Athenian babe grows up the pride Of Sparta, while a budling of her own, Nursled by Athens' soft and careless shift, Scarce grows to woman's level----

_Sac._ Why, you puffed---- You pride-blown----

_Arc._ Come with me!

_Sac._ But such a bladder! He'd top a flood into the second world And wet but half his skin!

_Arc._ Nay, Sachinessa, Our suit is won. No words! We'll haste once more To Philon's shrine. For this dear joy I'll bend A willing knee. Come, come! [_Draws her away, upper right_]

_Pel._ [_Capering_] Could reel it now Like school-boy 'scaped a whipping!

_Ste._ Shame! Your years Will blush. [_Goes left_] Now Biades, and then farewell!

_Pel._ Ah, there's my mourning cloak! I'll go at once To th' Council, and----

_Ste._ Vain labor, Pelagon.

_Pel._ Nay, I will stir them!

[_Exit, upper right. Biades enters left. He is arrayed in a purple gown with long train held up by his monkey. A peacock fan swings from a girdle, and jewels dangle from his ears. He carries a scroll from which he reads as he walks, tittering over the matter. Stesilaus watches him curiously, then amazedly recognizes him_]

_Ste._ Biades! Is 't he? May eyes report it to a brain unshaken? ... Ho, sir,--or madam?

_Bia._ Did you speak, my lord? Your pardon! I was buried here,--quite drowned I' the honey of this tale. Sir, it suggests,-- But that's not it,--the style, so quaint, so pure,-- It plays with thoughts and leaves them bright as shells The sea has polished to their curling edges. You'll hear this line? 'Tis worth a pause. Eh, not? You've never wooed the script? Ah, I forget. War is the art of Sparta.

_Ste._ Are you man?

_Bia._ What's that to an artist, sir? Life in me packs The germinal grain of all, and what may come To birth and bloom, I leave to nursing Fate. But you seem ruffled,--warm. Pray have my fan. Then take my parchment,--sit you in this nook And read of Corys and his water-nymph Until the charm of an unhurrying world Steals wave-like round you.

_Ste._ Olympus! Was 't this voice That tripped my reason? Led my cautious years To take instruction from a dizzened ape And lose the cause they guarded? Was 't myself So slubbered judgment----

_Bia._ Ah, must I believe You honored my good counsel?

_Ste._ Good!

_Bia._ 'Twas good For Athens. Ha, you slipped into the noose As easily as my finger takes this ring. A wondrous sapphire here. You know the stone? This is from Egypt,--has the desert fire 'Neath Nilus' liquid smile. Is 't not a treasure? But I forget. Your Sparta has no gems. By Hera's belt, your country goes too bare For this adornèd earth!

_Ste._ Come, Biades! Throw off that gown, and with a captain's sword Deny this folly!

_Bia._ Friend, 'tis not my hour For exercise. Our moods, I see, would quarrel. But here's my thornless world. You'll pardon me.

[_Resumes walking and reading as before. Pyrrha enters, middle left, and stands watching him. He looks up and is struck motionless to find her eyes upon him. She comes nearer for a detached scrutiny, then crosses right_]

_Ste._ Find me Alcanor, daughter. And this hour We leave for Sparta.

_Pyrr._ I am ready, sir.

[_Exit, lower right. Stesilaus goes into house, upper left_]

_Bia._ She has good eyes, and used them. Overshot, By Hermes! I must follow,--'twixt this fool And meditation's eye must interpose My soldier self!

[_Tears off robe, under which he wears a simple, belted tunic, flings jewels from his ears, and drives out Bico. Goes off, lower right. Enter Pelagon, much ruffled, from street_]

_Pel._ Where's Stesilaus? Stesilaus, ho! Find Stesilaus! [_Stesilaus returns, upper left_] O, my friend, they're mad, And you must fly! I never was so battered! The senators cry out you played with them As though their stationed honors were a row Of last year's weanlings,--first to say you bore Full power to treat, then at their open answer To cover and prefer the opposite, Declaring that their noble terms must cool On th' road to Sparta! As I speak your comrades Are driven through the gates. You must not stay. They'll have your life, they are so worked. Come, come! I know a way--I'll get you through----

_Ste._ I'll go The way I came.

_Pel._ Nay, nay, I'll slip you out! Leave here your wife and daughter. In gentler hour I'll send them after, with your son,--

_Ste._ I'll speak To Pyrrha----

_Pel._ No! This way! The world's at somersault! The turtle's on his back, his claws to Heaven! No one would hear me! _Me!_ The voice of Athens! And jeered me down, for I was Biades' kin,-- Though why the wind sits so I know not! Come--come--I was so battered----

[_Exeunt, upper left. Pyrrha and Biades enter, lower right_]

_Bia._ But one word!

_Pyrr._ I've let you shower words in hope to drain Your breath of them, but they grow to a hail. Pelt me no more, Athenian.

_Bia._ O, that name I held my pearl of honor is become A wounding thorn! I'll wear 't no more.

_Pyrr._ You'll be A Spartan?

_Bia._ Ay, if you are one!

_Pyrr._ So vows An Athens' captain.

_Bia._ Nay, I have no place, No rank, no office, duty or pursuit, But this my gage is in. Nor rest till I have won!

_Pyrr._ Then you'll die weary, sir. So long 'twill take To make me yours.

_Bia._ If you will love my shade I'll on the instant make myself a ghost!

_Pyrr._ Love's burning deeds do ever lie before him. He ne'er gets past to make them history.

_Bia._ O, hear my oath! Thy birthland shall be mine!

_Pyrr._ Whist, Biades! The gods might hear you too.

_Bia._ I'll swear it in the ears of Zeus!

_Pyrr._ By what Irreverenced deity wilt break it?

_Bia._ Ah, By none, fair Pyrrha! I'll stake my golden part In love's eternity, no land's more dear To my own heart than that which gave you birth.

_Pyrr._ Ay, for on Spartan soil the laurel grows Which you would pluck from drenched defeat and set Among your bays. So dear as that!

[_A clamor is heard in street_]

_Bia._ I'll woo In better time. Till then let this pure gem Speak for me on your breast. 'Tis like my love, No sudden thing. For as this captive fire Dreamed in the heart of earth and could not wake Till beauty born in man sent down his kiss, So lay my love in Life from her first breath, Deep as unconsciousness, till at your step It knew itself. You scorn the half-hour flame, But in your coming like an instant dawn Find all its brevity. Ay, Pyrrha, sweet! And let my token lie, a patient prayer, Upon your bosom. Heaven should have its sun!

[_Drops the locket into the folds of her dress. She casts it to the ground_]

_Pyrr._ Athens is such a sun, and Sparta as my foot Shall overcloud it! [_Exit, middle left_]

_Bia._ Had she crushed my gem To bleeding dust, I'd pay it o'er to see Such flame unsheathe. Bright Eos necklaced with A darkling east could not more beauteously Threat earth with storm. [_Takes up the locket_] You'll wear it yet, my terror, Or I'll cut out the tongue that can not wag To a woman's heart. [_Enter Creon from street_] What, Creon? Dumb with news? Which I will guess before your tongue's uncrimped. We've lost our gentle guests? Our Spartan friends Are off?

_Cre._ They're driven out. But that is old. Atop that tale, like mountain on a hump, Comes one will wake you, sir! The tumbling streams That bore the Spartans out, rage back again, A gathered flood against you,--you, my lord!

_Bia._ Ah!

_Cre._ Sinon's poison spreads till men That yesterday lay down before you, now Cry for your death. I warned you, friend!

_Bia._ You did. Be happy then. Your duty's done.

_Cre._ Oh, sir, Your house is sacked, and all your golden plate, Parcelled on robber backs, is carried out And spots the city with a hundred suns!

_Bia._ There's more i' the world. Let that not trouble you.

_Cre._ Your robes are in the street, and carters' wheels Grow royal with them!

_Bia._ Well, there yet are looms. While weavers know their art this is no loss.

_Cre._ Your pictures----

_Bia._ What? If they've one finger laid On those immortal treasures----

_Cre._ All are riddled!

_Bia._ All, Creon? Not my Zeuxis? No! The stones Hurled at it would have paused as though a god Were hidden there!

_Cre._ All, friend.

_Bia._ Ay, these are tears. But I will chide them and think on my sword. Now I must bend me to the senators,-- Get leave to call my troops,-- [_Enter a body of senators, Amentor at their head_] Most noble lords, I was about to seek you.

_Amen._ Shifts your mood, Proud Biades? The answer's not yet cold That came so hot from you,--a two-edged shame That struck into your honor as our own!

_Bia._ Nay, gentle senators, Athenian fathers! That you could note so low, so foul a charge As secret Sinon brought against my name, Gave me the block, the bellows, and the fire Wherewith I forged my answer,--one that kept My honor whole, and if your own needs surgery, Lay 't not to me, but let good sense mend all, And give me leave to go against this mob Now scarring Athens' beauty.

_Amen._ Go alone.

_Bia._ I have an army.

_Amen._ Ask Lord Sinon that.

_Bia._ When fishes drown!

_Amen._ Put out your single arm, And feel your army in it. Athens' troops Are now in Sinon's charge. You are no more Her general. You are banished.

_Bia._ Is this so?

_Senators._ It is.

_Bia._ Then I am dumb. Words on your heat Would fall as snow,--and I am not a man To let my scars speak, though my body bears Enough to cry you shame.

_Amen._ We know your valor, But with it goes a pride no State could bear But that it must. Make your escape, my lord. The people pressed us, and we save your life By this decree.

_Bia._ O, Athens that did love me!

_Amen._ And now repents that love, for know you, sir, Though men may be irreverent as they choose, They'll follow only who revere their gods.

[_Exeunt senators_]

_Cre._ But you were meek!

_Bia._ If I had let them know I've yet a tongue, they might have had that too, And in the courts where I must sue for love 'Twill be my royal member,--all my suite And kingly plenitude.

_Cre._ They will repent.

_Bia._ On knees, sir! Banished! O, my heart could lend Hot Sirius fire!

_Cre._ You! Banished!

_Bia._ Nay, while sense From wit and speech are undivorced, and courage Knits them in purpose drinking up the seas That distance me from Athens, who shall say I'm banished? Bribe mankind and nature too, Ye bleary senators! Suborn the winds! Put me at end of farthest watery leagues! While there's no rift between me and my gods, I'll shake this night as from Apollo's brow And show my day emergent!

_Cre._ Where wilt go?

_Bia._ To Persia first, where I am dear to Phernes. And then, perchance, with Persia at my back, Sparta may find me fair, though now I'm black As Pluto's poker. We'll not flag, my heart, Till every fleet o' the world rides here and makes This saucy harbor tremble! What an ague then Shall shake thee, Athens, thinking on this hour!

[_Curtain_]