The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 58

_Bia._ Ah, Pyrrha, there's no light Falls from thine eye that does not sway me like A bee in rose wind-shaken. I am thine.

There'll be no battle, but a nuptial feast With three great armies for our brothered guests.

Your land and mine are one. Give me your hand.

_Pyrr._ I will. For Sparta's sake.

_Bia._ And love's!

_Pyrr._ [_Giving her hand_] And love's.

[_Curtain_]

ACT V

SCENE: _The garden of Pelagon, as in first act. Enter youths and maidens dancing about Pyrrha and Biades. They sing:_

Hymen, G.o.d of bended knees, Who would gain to thee must lose!

Take from us thy merry fees, Though our fairest thou dost choose,-- Pyrrha and our Biades!

Fling the garland and the wreath!

Roses, roses consecrate, That upgive their happy breath In an ardor 'neath our feet, Kissing fortune in their death!

Sparta's won, and Athens' wed!

Shyest hours of midnight, bring Charm and blessing for the bed Whence a fairer Greece shall spring And her golden peace be bred!

[_They dance off, lower right, as Pelagon and Stesilaus enter middle left_]

_Pel._ Ha, neatly sung! By Hermes, they have made A tickling in my sandals.

_Ste._ Frivol!

_Pel._ Eh?

Nay, youth must wind his horn----

_Ste._ Not in my ears!

_Pel._ Though he never come to the hunt. But Biades Has run the chase, and's bravely home again, The game in pack.

_Ste._ Too n.o.ble game for him!

My girl! That I should ever play the sire To a fop of Athens!

_Pel._ If the burn's so raw, You've secret salve for it.

_Ste._ Yes. 'Tis not my blood That so forgets its source!

_Pel._ Sh! Stesilaus!

A little b.u.t.ter on the tongue, my friend, Does no man harm.

_Ste._ b.u.t.ter a hackle, not My tongue! If I'm so rubbed, I'll rasp the winds Till they sprout ears. Don't "sh" me, Pelagon.

I'll m.u.f.fle in no corners.

_Pel._ Hist, I say----

_Ste._ Don't zizz into my beard! We are not curs To nose and smell in council!

_Pel._ Ruin's on us!

You will be heard----

[_Enter Menas, upper right_]

_Menas._ Joy to the n.o.ble fathers!

Sweet saviors of our city!

_Ste._ Sweet!

_Menas._ What says Our Stesilaus?

_Pel._ Ahem! The Spartan joy Is ever dumb. But see him stirred to heart That by a gift from out his very life, His dearest daughter, peace is home in Athens, And's forced no more to camp and cadge and beg At our shut gates. Yet it goes hard to part Wi' the fairest branch on's tree.

_Menas._ In Biades He finds a treasured son.

_Ste._ By a mermaid's shoes, A precious son!

_Menas._ How, sir?

_Pel._ Indeed, indeed, A jewel of a son! Will you, friend Menas, Float with the senators, and bring to sh.o.r.e Report of how they drift,--what currents favor And what now counter us?

_Menas._ I'll go, my lords, To hear the latest honor they conclude Best caps your fame, and bring it in a word. [_Exit Menas_]

_Ste._ I had two minds to throw the truth in 's face And see him strangle on it.

_Pel._ Friend, wouldst make My old knees creak to earth? I sue to you Be soft as prudence. Shall we now be false To our dearly tended hope--united Greece?

Now when the fact is on us, and our dream Walks in the day? I beg you clear your heart Of selfish fire that eats the very pattern Of love's new world. It is ungraced, perverse As altar flame that would devour the shrine 'Twas lit to honor.

_Ste._ Think of Greece? What's Greece, When my own daughter pairs with----

_Pel._ Nay, but mine.

When you are bitterest set, say to yourself She's of my loins, and when more softly taken, Then call her yours. But openly be constant To a father's right in her, and proudly sire Her honors. And 's for Biades, he's but A brocket yet, his antlers barely bossed.

My oath upon it, your reshaping hand Firm-cupped about his overweening spring, Will be a second cradle where he'll grow Fair to your fashion. Think on that.

_Ste._ I will.

There's comfort. Ay, so, so. The terms of peace Make him a Spartan. Pyrrha stood with me Stout-willed on that.

_Pel._ Then whist! You trust your wife?