The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 38

Misers of Dream their locks are undoing,-- Mistress of Keys, wilt thou stay?

Priestess, thyself, O fairer than dreaming, Art deity's answer to prayer!

Dusk in thine eyes is the seer-burthen gleaming, And moon-wands at rest in thy hair.

Far-foot Desire is lost in the winding Of valleys and gardens of thee!

Hoop of white arms is circ.u.mferent binding The star-pastured world and me!

[_Sybaris throws the locket at his feet. He turns and sees that she and Phania have risen and are staring at him_]

_Pyrr._ [_After a silence_] I do not know this game. Will leave you to it.

[_Exit, middle left_]

_Syb._ And I'll go home! [_Exit, lower left_]

_Pha._ And I'll go tell my father!

[_Exit, upper left_]

_Bia._ And I'll go stand in th' donkey mart and bray Till a farmer buys me! Witched, and by a Spartan!

Mad as the fleeing a.s.s of Thessaly! [_Exit, upper right_]

[_Curtain_]

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 Lacedaemon'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 G.o.d 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 s.h.i.+pped.

What is aboard? And now comes Pelagon, With 's thres.h.i.+ng-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 s.h.i.+ft and own the curtained deed 'Fore man and Heaven.