SCENE 1

_Enter_ KANDAULES, THOAS _following_.

KANDAULES.

Where’er I go you’re hard at heels. What would you? No heart to open speech with me, old man, Because I was a trifle rough with you? Speak--on with what you’d say. I’ll keep my soul In patience and give ear though you should need The length of time that turns a grape from green Into the purple ere you’ve reached the end.

THOAS.

Sire, have I ever yet accused a man?

KAN.

No, Thoas.

THOAS.

Have I slurred a man’s good name?

KAN.

Why, surely not.

THOAS.

Or picked up heated words, Such as wroth lips are like to drop on earth, To fling them in your ear and fan their flame?

KAN.

Never.

THOAS.

Good; then I know at seventy years I’ll not do what I have not done at twenty, Since more than fifty years I’ve served your house.

KAN.

I know it, trusty henchman.

THOAS.

Earth brings forth And ceases not, all one to her if kings Be slain or crowned. She suffers not the trees To wither out nor berries to run sapless, And none the more she holds her fountains back If one should chance to give her blood for drink.

KAN.

That’s true as well.

THOAS.

Ay, true. All would remain As now, I think, so far as touches me. For there’s the luck of slaves like us, that we Fret little at a red moon in the heavens, And that more coolly than the greedy dogs Waiting in hope for tit-bits they may snap, We watch the sacrifice nor ask in dread If there be good or evil prophesied.

KAN.

Greybeard, what would you say?

THOAS.

Your father had me Always about him, none the less if he Went banqueting than if he took the field; I dared not be remiss, to-day I reached His goblet and to-morrow shield and spear. I too it was prepared his funeral-pyre And gathered up with my old stiffened fingers His handful of white dust in the brown urn, For such was his behest--and why was this?

KAN.

The grape is turned to red by now.

THOAS.

You’re like him, Maybe--I’ve ne’er yet seen you draw the sword. He drew it oft and gladly, nor at times With any ground, I grant it if you will, And yet ’twas good, maybe you’re fully like him; God give his fate be yours.

KAN.

Is it not mine?

THOAS.

Who knows? I reckon in its end as well. Forgive me, Sire; I have a laggard brain, An understanding slow, and dull device, Who calls me fool insults me not thereby. But sturdy men have come to me ere now To seek advice, and when I hemmed and hawed They said to me:--“The simplest aged man Who counts his seventy years and keeps his senses Has greater wisdom in a hundred things Than even the shrewdest who is still a youth.” Well, then, I think I keep my senses still, So hearken to me.

KAN.

Why, I do.

THOAS.

And ply not The rack for reasons. Be not overhasty To think me wrong, although I shut my lips, Because a “why” of thus and thus much drams Is lacking me when you would weigh my word. It’s true enough, if birds refuse to fly As pleases you, when questioned by your seer, That you can launch a single shot from bow And scatter them, as many have done in wrath. But does the ill-luck they portended come The less for that? Then do not say to me, “What would you? He is valiant, good, and true!” I know’t myself, nay more--would swear the same, Yet all the more I speak my warning word:-- Be on your guard with Gyges!

[KANDAULES _laughs_.

Ah, I thought it. I tell you once again--be on your guard! Yet take my words aright. I say as well He’ll never stretch his hand to grasp your crown, He’ll spend his very latest drop of blood In your defence, and yet he is for you More dangerous than all who yesterday With looks and words were hatching to your hurt Their plots. Oho, they’ll never do you harm As long as he’s not here. Then get his riddance Soon as you can, for if he bides much longer And, wearing all the garlands he has won, Goes up and down among them as he does, There’s much can happen.

KAN.

That means?

THOAS.

Why, I see it. They whisper and compare, they shrug their shoulders, And clenching fists, have a sly nod with each other. You’ve given them all too sore offence, and if The Greek should feel some morning when he wakens His step go sudden-stumbling o’er a crown Set by some hand at night to catch his feet, Should he still spurn it?--Is the man a fool? He does not rob you of it, that’s enough. Your heir he can be and your heir he will be, His stars ascend, you do not dream how high, Else would they mock him for a zither-twanger And they’d believe, as I myself believe, That only birds possess the songful throat Whose claws are clipped by shears that know their work, But now they deem him, since he’s apt at song, If not yet Phoebus’ self, at least his son.

KAN.

That mazes you? Why, he has conquered them. How could sheer mortal be their conqueror?

THOAS.

Still, still! Yet this much stands, he’s good and true. Then hear my words and all may yet go well Unless the gods should send a chastisement And you next year make them and us at one.

[_Enter_ GYGES.

He comes. Was this vain talk? Sire, do not smile. ’Tis just on walls saltpetre-crystals form, Then wherefore not the salt o’ the time on me?

[_He retreats into the background._

KAN.

You’ve touched my quick more nearly than you think-- Well, Gyges?

GYGES.

Sire, I have been seeking you.

KAN.

Not more than I’ve been seeking you. Say on, What brings you here? You’re dumb and turn away. Whate’er it be I have the strength for much.

GYGES.

Oh, had you but received my sacrifice!

KAN.

I ne’er will rue that thus I have not done, But had it been received, what profit there? That night suspicion inextinguishable Took kindle in her bosom from your sigh. But cease this feud of conscience. Where’s the man That is a man and had not sighed like you?

GYGES.

No blessed day was that on which the King Of Lydia first met with Grecian Gyges.

KAN.

I curse it not.

GYGES.

Your own hand had the power To shield you from that couched and glowering tiger, And I by launching my unwanted dart Became not your deliverer from destruction But robber of your master-shot.

KAN.

’Tis true. I had him fully marked and was prepared, But when I saw your eyes in eager glitter, The glow upon your cheeks, the heave of breast, I banished from my lips a quiet smile And gave you thanks.

GYGES.

Ever this noble mind. E’en when I dreamt not of it! Can I then?

KAN.

And the first glance told me another thing, That should there come on me a greater peril You’d do the deed again and make it braver. And if it has not come you bear no guilt.

GYGES.

Sire, speak no more. ’Tis even as you say, Against a single hair from off your head I would have staked my blood--yet now--yet now-- So wills the curse, I must demand your life.

KAN.

My life?

GYGES.

Even so, if she is not to die. The sun already dips to his descent, And if your eye still sees the evening star Then hers shall never see it, nevermore.

KAN.

Then if you kill not me she kills herself?

GYGES.

She does. How else could I stand thus before you?

KAN.

No other sacrifice requites her vengeance?

GYGES.

I offered her the dearest, but in vain.

KAN.

Ah, then she will refuse me even farewell!

GYGES.

I fear she’ll flee your face into the grave.

KAN.

No more, then. Take my life.--You start aback?

GYGES.

So willing with the gift?

KAN.

Who does a sin Does penance too. Who smiles not in atonement Makes no atonement. Am I known so ill And held so light by you that such a word Astounds, nay more, affrights you? Where’s my heart That I should force her with her rosy fingers, Too tender even for plucking of a flower, To stretch them for a dagger and to prove If she be skilled to find her heart?

GYGES.

This too? Flinging the very garment’s shelter back And offering breast yourself?

KAN.

I show the path That’s nearest to the goal, and make it smooth That when you stand again before her sight There’ll be at least one thing in me to praise. Here is the rushing fount of life you seek, You have the key yourself, then ope the lock!

GYGES.

Not for the world!

KAN.

For her, my friend, for her!

[GYGES _makes a gesture of refusal_.

Nay, I bethink me now. You wished to-day With your own hand to spill your youthful blood. Maybe I too can muster will; then go And take to her my latest-breathed farewell. ’Tis even as though I now were stretched on earth.

GYGES.

No, no! I came to fight.

KAN.

Oho, the pride! In fight with me you cannot be defeated, Eh, friend?

GYGES.

You know me better.

KAN.

That as well! Should I be conqueror even there remains No less the other. Is not that the scent The aloe sheds? It is; so soon the wind Carries it from the garden. ’Tis unclosed Only when night is near. The time is come.

GYGES.

The ring--oh, oh!

KAN.

You mean ’twere better left Unravished in its charnel? True it is. Rhodope’s dread presentience was no lie, Nor was your shudder empty monishment. Not for a game nor the mad pranks o’ the fool Its metal has been welded, and perchance There hangs on it the whole world-destiny. Methinks ’tis given me to dare the vision Of time’s most ancient gulfs, and see the fight The young gods fought with the hoar gods of eld. Zeus, hurled aback full oft, comes climbing on Toward the gold seat o’ the Father, in his hand The sickle of horror, and behind him creeps A Titan to the attack, sore-bowed with fetters. Why is he not perceived of Kronos? Lo He’s manacled and maimed and downward hurled! Wears he the ring? Gyges, he wore the ring And Gaia’s self had handed him the ring!

GYGES.

Then curséd be the man that brought it to you.

KAN.

And why? You did the right, and had I been Made of your mould it had not worked its lure, In silence had I given it back to night And all would now be as it was erewhile. Then seek not on the passive tool’s account To bargain for my sin. The guilt is mine.

GYGES.

But ah, what guilt!

KAN.

How deep ’tis hers to say, And keen I feel I have been sore at fault. What strikes me strikes me only as is meet. The plain word of my age-ennobled servant Taught me a thing. One should not always ask “What’s this or that?” but sometimes “What’s its import?” I know for very truth the time is coming When all will think as I do. Say, what virtue Inheres in veils, in crowns or rusty swords That is eternal? But the weary world O’er things like these is sunken into sleep; Things that she wrested in her latest throe And holds to fast. Who’d plunder her thereof Wakes her. Then let that man first search himself If he be strong enough to hold her bound When, jolted half awake, she lays about her, And rich enough to offer her aught higher, If she be loath to let her trinket go. Herakles was the man, but I am not. Too proud to be his heir in lowly mind And far too weak to be his peer in deed, I’ve undermined the ground that held me firm And now its gnashing vengeance draws me down.

GYGES.

Nay, nay!

KAN.

’Tis thus nor can be otherwise. The world has need of sleep as you and I Need ours; she grows like us and waxes strong When she would seem the prey of death and fools Are moved to mirth. Yes, when a man lies prone, The arms erewhile so busy hanging slack, The eyes imprisoned fast and closed the mouth, Whose lips are knitted in convulsive twitch Retaining still perchance a withered roseleaf As though ’twere greatest treasure--that would give A sight to raise the laugh of him who wakes And looks upon it. But were such a man, Some being born upon a stranger star And quite unwitting of our human wants, To come and cry at you--“Here’s fruit and wine, Arise, eat, drink!” What were you like to do? Why this, unless you choked him, ere you knew it, With a half-conscious grip and crushing hug, You’d answer:--“This is more than meat and drink!” And slumber calmly on until the morning That summons not the one and not the other, Nay, but all mortals into freshened life. Just such a meddling mar-peace was myself. Now I am caught between Briareus’ hands And he will grind the insect that would sting. Then, Gyges, howsoe’er the wave of life May lift you (and be sure ’twill rear your fate Still higher than you think) be bold of faith And do not tremble even before a crown; This only--never break the sleep o’ the world. And now----

GYGES.

The sun goes down. The thing must be.

KAN.

Thoas!

[_He takes off his crown._

THOAS.

What means this, Sire?

KAN.

I think you wished To see me fight. Be glad, then, for I do it. But this for payment--keep the crown in ward And give’t to whoso of the twain survives. (_To_ GYGES.) If it be you, I grudge it not, and men Will see it on your brow with joy--Come, come! You say you’d never take it? Fie, oh fie! ’Twould only lapse upon a lesser man.

GYGES.

Sire, swear you’ll do your honest part in fight.

KAN.

’Tis mine to show her I’ll not lightly lose So dear a loveliness. I swear it then. And you?

GYGES.

She lives and dies with me. I must. And though at every cut and thrust I’m thinking “Liefer by far a kiss!” yet none the more I’ll slack the force of any blow.

KAN.

Then give Your hand for this once more.--Now be for me A tiger. I for you a lion, and this The wildwood where we oft have led the chase.

[_They draw._

GYGES.

There’s one thing yet. Shame held it back. She means To wed with me if you be overcome.

KAN.

Ah, now I understand her!

GYGES.

On your guard!

[_A fight, during which they disappear to the left._

THOAS.

He falls! The last o’ the Heraclids is fallen!

[_Exit in their direction._