ACT III

Dion. [To Aristocles] Ocrastes is a youth full dear to me.

Orphaned at birth, I've bred him from a babe.

He is of bravest heart, and must leap high

Although he fall o'er heaven.

Aris. And the maid?

Dion. The daughter of my brother some years dead.

Her bloom might make e'en priestly blood forget

To pace with vows, but she is true, and kneels

To wisdom's star. Hast yet no eye for woman?

Aris. For all things fair. That is my staff 'gainst age.

We're young so long as we love beauty.

[Aratea moves to Dion and Aristocles, leaving Nauresta and Phillistus together]

Nau. See

This feathered snuggery?

Phil. A vine-lark's nest.

Nau. Touch 't not. We'll lose a song by you. 'Tis strange

These dare-wings build about our heads, when they

So fear us.

Phil. Farther. Birds are not my study.

[They move aside]

Nau. Frowning again, my lord?

Phil. And reason for it.

I like not yonder pairing.

[Looks at Theano and Ocrastes]

Nau. Would that your plans

Might leave them happy!

Phil. False? I'll not believe it

Of thee, Nauresta. I've given thee confidence

As open as the ungated dawn; unlocked

My secrets; fixed within your breast, as in

My own, my darling purpose!

Nau. 'Twas my counsel

In Aratea's ear that brought you hither.

And why these dark reproaches where I hoped

To see the color of your gratitude?

Phil. What's done, though ne'er so well, but makes a way

For what's to do, Nauresta.

Nau. Ah, my lord,

I know not how to please you.

Phil. Learn. To me

Be wax, and adamant to all touch else.

Mad Dionysius is in revels lost;

Dion is far too stern for common love;

Between the two my hope makes fair ascent

Above the clouds of state. 'Tis I must reign.

Then we, my queen, must see our daughter wed

To some strong noble who will prop our power.

Ocrastes' love is bound inseverably

To Dion. Keep him from Theano, sweet.

Look on them now. See how she bends to him?

Nau. Nay, she is modest, sir.

Phil. But mark! He speaks,

And crimson runs her cheek, as though his voice

Did paint it magically, which bids him fair,

For know you not that love on blushes feeds

As plundering bees on roses? He is sure!

'Twill task you hard to ward from port who bears

So bold a sail.

Nau. But I will do it. Ay!

Phil. Again you are all mine! [Nauresta moves to Theano and Ocrastes]

Thus do I woo

The mother, with the daughter in my eye.

Ara. [To Aristocles] Ah, yes, I know you'll cast fond

sighs toward Athens,

And in the night look through the dark to her—

A myrtle-crown�d bride without her lord—

But yet our land, too poor in Ceres' smile

To outwoo Acad�me, may show some charm

To ease your banishment.

Aris. O, 'tis an isle

That 'neath the eye of Zeus might bloom nor blush

Save at his praise; yet holds within itself

Treasure that ornaments its cruder worth

As gems make eyes in stone,—a friend whose hand

Leads Virtue's own, and woman's beauty crowned

By starry mind as I ne'er hoped to see

Till at the port of the immortal world

My eyes should meet my dreams.

Dion. What now? So soon,

Aristocles?

Ara. My lord?

Dion. I knew she'd find

The gate to your forgiveness.

Phil. [Aside] My tongue creaks

Amid this piping.

Dion. True, she's fair enough

For praise, but I'm a plain prose lover, friend,

Nor, like a doting osier o'er a brook,

Pore on her features, wasting oil of time

That should burn high in task of gods and state.

Phil. [Aside] I'll cast a pebble in this summer pool.

[To Aristocles] Sir, you will find our Dionysius worthy,

The proud descendant of a prouder sire,

Upholding well his shining heritage.

Aris. Worthy I hope he is, but even kings,

My lord, may wrap them in humility,

Nor boast descent, when demigods of earth

But bastards are in heaven.

Dion. Ay, some of us

Should curvet not so high, bethinking of

Our audience in the clouds; for this brave world

Is but a theatre whereto the gods

For pastime look, and whoso makes most show

Of plumes careering and proud-lifting stride

Is but the greatest anticker of all

To their high eyes. A little music, friends.

Phil. And in good time! A sermon then a song.

[Enter dancers, the two in advance bearing urns which they place on a small altar, singing]

Bring cedar dark,

And ruby-wood,

Bring honeyed-bark,

The Naiad's food,

Till altar flame

And incense rise

In friendship's name

To seek the skies.

[Chorus by maidens bearing wreaths of olive and laurel]

Myrtle leave on Venus' tree,

Nor the Bacchic ivy see;

Olive bring, and laurel bough.

And may hours that gather now

Of his years fair token be!

[They bow before Aristocles and continue dancing]

Aris. [Watching Aratea] The sun has made a shrine of her bright hair

Where eyes would worship, but her fairer face

Lures their devotion ere they gaze one prayer.

Phil. [Crossing to Aristocles] Aristocles, I swear yon dancer's foot,

Curving the air, marks beauty of more worth

Than all the fantasies of dream you write

On heavens conjectural.

Dion. [Angrily to Phillistus] It suits you well

To treat the theme deific with bold tongue.

No thought so high but you would trick it out

In shrugging sophistry!

Phil. [Going] Farewell. The court

Has always welcome for me.

Dion. Farewell, my lord.

And Ceres send you grace!

Phil. [Turning] Beware, proud Dion!

The topmost limb makes an uneasy seat.

Who perches there must take account of winds,

Lest dignity go forfeit to surprise.

By Jaso, sir, your cause is fallen sick,

Nor Athens emptying all her wits may heal it! [Exit]

Ara. My lord, a little patience——

Dion. Patience, madam!

Would words were meat for swords! I'd had his crop!

[Enter a royal messenger]

Mess. Most noble Dion, greeting from the king.

He begs you'll bring the Athenian sage to banquet,

And see some shows within the royal gardens.

Dion. More revels! More? This cracks the very glass

Of our fair prospect, wherein we saw him sit

With listening ear to wisdom.

[To messenger] No!

Ara. My lord——

Dion. Say to the tyrant I'll not feast with him. [Exit messenger]

Ara. May I be bold to say this is not well?

I fear, my lord, your stern, imperious port

Is much against you in our easeful city.

If on occasion you would smooth your brow

To patient lenience you in time would win

All hearts to wear the livery of your purpose,

That now shows cold and sober for their mood.

Dion. Not so! The bending tree ne'er kissed the clouds.

I will not stoop! What? Flaunt his sport before

A sage's eye, who comes at his own suit

To teach him truth?

Aris. Yet we must not forget

Discourteous truth is hated; vehemence,

The whip of argument, but frights conviction.

Pardon so stale a word.

Ara. But 'tis so true!

The winding zephyr, not the hurrying gale,

Finds out the hidden rose. My brother's heart

Has yet a grain of good, which gentleness

May find and touch to life.

Dion. It was the slight,

The unseemly slight to you, Aristocles,

So chafed me.

Aris. Think but of our charge, my friend,

Fair Syracuse.

Dion. So, so! I say no more.

Your wisdom be to me Athene's shield

Whereby I'll see to strike this head of wrong

Nor be devoured. Come, we will walk abroad.

But not to court.

Aris. [To Aratea] My wishes wait on thee.

May Fortune dress thee for a second self

Till eyes mistaking seek thy face for hers.

Ara. Nay, let her wed thee, and like loving wife

Give all her portion, then empty-handed pluck

New grace from heaven to adorn thee still.

[Exeunt Dion and Aristocles]

Ara. This Athens' tongue, so sweetly mediate,

Will lead the people's love unto my lord,

Who now upholds the state in thankless sort.

They honor and admire, but keep their hearts

For those who woo them! Ah, I blame them not.

Oc. Dion need borrow no Athenian tongue

To speak for him.

Nau. You'll hear no voice denies

Him perfect praise.

Oc. Who would deny it?

The. None,

Ocrastes, none. How like a gem unpriced

His rich simplicity doth shine amid

The purpled show of lords! It is as though

The sovereign alkahest, weary of law,

Had given the scorn�d pebble leave to glow

The fairest eye of all the pearl�d shore.

Ara. They'll sing us deaf, Nauresta, on this theme.

But come. [Draws Nauresta away] Come, madam, come! We must prepare

Some good-wife pleasure for my lord's return.

[Exeunt Aratea and Nauresta, left]

Oc. [Embracing Theano] My love! At last! O goddess Patience, how

Thou muffledst me! Time crept on thousand legs

And each one crippled.

The. Ay, so slow the hour

Moved to this golden now I thought each moment

Turned back to seek some loss and spent itself

A second time.

Oc. Now all the world's at morn.

How young we are, Theano! O, 'tis true

Life is at tick of dawn when love begins.

The. I'm older then than you, for I 'gan love

The day you won the laurel from proud Carthage.

In the wild race how like a shooting star

You made a heaven of earth's grosser air!

And 'twas that day I heard old warriors say

Your lance would dare prick ope the clouds till Mars

Looked forth to combat. Ah, I scarce believe

Our island's easy lap did bear you, and thank

The gods that wealth, whose poison-pampered tooth

Likes best the marrow-sweet of youth, has left

You still a man.

Oc. Truth weeps when lovers talk,

But where is sound more sweet? All that I am

I owe to Dion. Give to him the praise,

If praise is due, and you would please me best.

The. Thy approbation is my glass of merit,

And there alone am I array�d fair,

Yet for his sake, not yours, I love lord Dion.

'Tis wonder's hour in wonder's day he should

So fit his life, despite the careless time,

To please the gods.

Oc. When shall we tell him, love,

Of this new joy of ours?

The. My mother first.

Oc. Didst note her frown?

What has so changed her, sweet?

The. I find her troubled late, as she would soothe

Her breast above some panting mystery.

Oc. She must disclose the cause, and show if 't has

An honest face. I'll have no mincing doubts

And ghostly secrets peering on our love.

The. She is our gentle mother. Wait, my heart!

Oc. Phillistus is too often at her ear.

Have guard against him. In his smoothest words

He'll subtly seat a devil to confound you.

'Tis pity. Eloquence is the flute o' the soul,

Which virtue alone should play, for good or bad

It has immortal consequence.

The. He was

My father's friend, and well may be my mother's.

Oc. Ah, but he coos too near her widowed nest.

The. Ocrastes! Can you dare? My noble mother!

Whose sorrows sit like shadows in her eye?

Whose loyal breast asks no embrace less chill

Than the cold tomb where my dear father lies?

Oc. 'Twas but a word.

The. Unsay it, O, unsay it!

Oc. Ay, by our island's god, 'twas never spoken!

The. I've scarce a breath, Ocrastes.

Oc. And that breath

This kiss must drink. You will forgive? Speak not.

These clinging lips have told me. A kiss, Theano,

Unseals all secrets but to be their grave.

Then we know all, and all we know's forgot.

'Tis saying true, a kiss is worth the world,

When, having it, there's no world but a kiss.

[Re-enter Nauresta and Aratea, left]

Nau. [Crossing to Theano] Still here, my daughter?

[Enter Brentio, right]

Bren. O, mistress, the master is coming with Dionysius.

Since he would not take the Athenian to court, the court

is coming hither.

Oc. Here? 'Tis a strange declension of his pride.

Ara. I fear 'tis cover for a thrust 'gainst Dion.

Oc. No! Virtue such as his is heavened above

The reach of sceptres.

Ara. But he was too bold

In his refusal to attend the feast.

They come! And Dionysius' brow is like

A new, unclouded sun. No eyes for us!

[Enter Dionysius, Aristocles, Dion, and lords]

Diony. [To Aristocles] Speak on, nor cease t' enchant my rous�d ear,

Although thy words, like honey from the isle

Where Ate fell, are something mixed with bitter.

But give me not to virtue suddenly,

Lest she disdain the greening, unripe fruit,

And from her sun I do forever fall.

Dion. Heed then his counsel, Dionysius.

A ruler is the state's bountificer,—

High warden at the gates of happy good,—

And when he turns unto himself the stream

That should make fair his country, he is damned

As oft a robber as his subjects count.

Each man he meets may claim his golden coat!

Diony. What's your rough meaning, sir?

Aris. 'Tis this, my lord.

Here is a land born in a dream of Nature,

And given to man to please her waking eyes

Until she thinks that yet she dreams. His task

To build the adorning temple, turn groves retired

To happy shades where wisdom meets with youth,

And with triumphant art set statued thought

To gleam abroad from every favored spot

Till e'en the flattered gods be tempted here

In marble fair to wait on mortal eyes,

And genius roam in generation free,

Breathing the constant good of mind aspiring,

Till not a clod, be it or earth or human,

But knows a smile to make itself more fair.

How should it grieve thee then to see the pomp

Of one, sole, only man heave with the weight

Of all the state, and wear in barren pride

The fertile beauty of his golden isle?

Diony. Divine Athenian, if I be that man,

Be thou the master of my realm till I

Have learned what 'tis to be one. Teach me here

My first new duty.

Dion. Check debauching riot

That sluices now the palace! Cease these feasts

That fume to heaven like Hecate's brewing-vats!

Nay, sir, those scowls unwrite your waterish vow.

Aris. Our Dion means, my lord, that virtue wanes

As revels wax; and yet an hour of rest

The gods allow us. I myself have trained

Young figures for the dance that wreathes with grace

The needful, idle hour.

Diony. You leave us music?

Aris. Ay, 'tis the angel 'tween the sense and soul,

A hand on each, that one may feel the touch

Of purest heaven mid rosy revelling,

The other catch sweet trembles of a wave

That shake her calm till white cheek meets the rose.

Diony. And feasting, sir?

Aris. Nay, there's the soul's expense

For what o'erdims her fair, majestic visions;

But fruits of sheltered vales grow lush for man,

And awny grasses droop with sugared grains,

And wine, tempered to reason's flow, oft lights

The questing mind.

Diony. Enough! No groaning board

That shifts its burden to the spirit! No revel

To pleasure Pleasure! Naught but what is meet

For fair philosophy's relaxive hour!

Adrastus, see 'tis done. Go instantly! [Exit Adrastus]

Dion, you're for the harbor?

Dion With your leave.

Diony. Which we must grant. Your business is our own.

Oc. With you, my lord?

Dion. Most welcome son. Adieu. [Exeunt Dion and Ocrastes]

Ara. Brother, 'tis long since you have visited me.

I hold a magnet now in our new friend

Will draw you to my house.

Diony. Nay, I must rob you.

The palace is his home.

Ara. O, not to-day!

Diony. I'll yield to-day, but not an hour beyond

To-morrow's sun. Adieu, Aristocles.

Give me thy love; I'll give thee Syracuse. [Exeunt Dionysius and lords]

Ara. [To Aristocles] We have some statues in the garden, sir,

May please an eye from Athens. Will you come? [Exeunt Aratea and Aristocles]

The. Mother, why look so darkly on Ocrastes?

Nau. Darkly, my daughter?

The. Has he not a soul

As truly virtuous as his face is fair?

Nau. True, but he's not for you. Believe it.

The. Ah!

Nau. Nor grieve my heart with pleading to know more.

Some day I'll speak, but now my bosom's locked

With key not in my hands.

The. Mother, I pray

You'll give no more a flattered, willing ear

To lord Phillistus' tongue.

Nau. What do you mean?

The. I do not know. I am disturbed by him.

I scarce can tell you how.

Nau. To call him friend

But proves my loyalty to the loved dead.

The. I do not doubt my mother! No, no, no!

But him I fear. His eye speaks muddily,

And echoes not his words.

Nau. No more of this!

You prattle, child. Say that he loves me——

The. Ah,

Not that!

Nau. Yet were he villain, is not love

The soul's sweet cleanser and redeeming incense?

The. The serpent and the bee make food and venom

Of the same flower's sweetness; so fair minds

In love enlarge with merit, while villainy,

Sucking such sweet, swells rank and poisonous.

Nau. No more, my daughter!

[Enter courtiers, right]