The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 43

_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 G.o.ds 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 G.o.d 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 n.o.ble 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!