h \%o'i>*G l 1 CONTENTS. PAGE PELOPIDAS ; OR, THE DELIVERANCE OF THEBES - I PHILIP - 119 LOVE, POETRY, PHILOSOPHY, AND GOUT 195 Between sixty and seventy years have elapsed since the following dramas were written. They were many times, between 1824 and 1834, offered to the then great London theatres ; and I have a clear recollection of seeing letters from Kemble, and — I think several — from Edmund Kean, expressive of their approval ; and of their willingness to take a part in either of the two first plays. The character of the last Philip of Macedon was by them — as also by other great tragedians — considered to afford scope for the exercise of an actor's best abilities. It was suggested — I fancy from Covent Garden — that the comedy would be more likely to succeed were the scene laid in England. Therefore, under my father's direction, I (who from child- hood had been his copyist — his ' Secretary ' according to our most valued friends of those old days — ) had to fairly tran- scribe the whole, — changing names and scenery : but ere the task was completed, the Manager — at whose suggestion it was undertaken — seems to have left the Stage. I much prefer — for many reasons — the comedy in its original form. My father never, by look or word, manifested disappoint- ment at the rejection of these works : but probably some dis- appointment may have been felt — and testified by a little note I now find on the last page of the original manuscript — and which I will here insert : — VI 'My third, and last, attempt at the Drama — none having been accepted. — E. A.' It seems strange my father should not have thought that — even if unsuited for the Stage — the three plays might still make a fit volume for the Library : but I remember no hint as to his having any idea of their publication. To me, their perusal in Book-shape will be far more pleasant than in the various copies of manuscript — the yellow pages, and faded ink of which suggest the propriety of my seeing them safely in type ere I, also, pass away. M. E. A. PELOPIDAS; OR, THE DELIVERANCE OF THEBES. A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS. Noble Thebans of the Democratic Party ; and afterwards Liberators of Thebes. Philip 1 DAS I Noblemen of the Aristocratic faction ; and Archias J *ft<™«rds Tyrants. Philidas — Secretary to the Tyrants. Charon — A Noble Theban, of neither Party. His Infant Son. ismenias. Epaminondas. Pelopidas Androclides gorgidas Theopompus Democlides Pherenicus Melon Cephisidorus Phcebidas — The Spartan General. Abas, Achilles, Agamemnon — Tailors. Telemon — A Cobbler. Clonius — A Poor Theban Youth. Menon — Servant to Archias. Protus— A Rustic. A Bailiff. WOMEN. Clymene — Wife of Charon. Thulia — Wife of Androclides. Doris — Wife of Protus. A Priestess. Lords, Soldiers, Servants, a Murderer. Scene — At and near Thebes. ACT I. Scene \.-—The fields in the vicinity of Thebes. (Enter, on one side, Abas and Clonius; and on the other, Protus and Doris.) Abas. Now, where's your wager, Clonius ? A good morrow to you, Protus, and to your lovely wife, who is this morning doubly lovely, for that she hath bestowed on me two skins of ruby wine. Protus. Aye, truly ! as how ? Doris. Not I, in sooth. He doth but jest. Abas. In sooth, he doth not jest, fair mistress. Yet, in a sort, he doth jest ; and yet he doth not. Protus. Come, — here's a riddle — doth — doth not — and doth ; who reads it first ? Clonius. Oh, — that will I. Abas. Nay, boy ; — that wilt thou not ; unless , indeed, thy wit have a longer reach than thine eyesight. (Epaminondas enters behind) Clonius (aside). Conceited old ass ! I wish the wine may choke him. Doris. Why, he is young enough to be your grandson ; sure he should have the better sight of the two. Abas. A raw conclusion, young mistress ; yet natural enough too, for a young woman to think the worse of an old man, and the better of a young one. But there's no exception without a rule — as I heard the noble Pelopidas say t'other day in a question about the tusk-teeth of a wild boar, though I don't quite bear in mind what the matter was. But, as I was saying — no rule without a deception ; and so it is that, of all 6 PELOPIDAS. the youngsters in Thebes, there is not one with such a thorough- piercing eye as mine — for a distance-object, you mark me, — for, as to things at hand, I make no particular boast. Epaminondas (aside). No such remarkable peculiarity, my honest friend ! I know hundreds who can distinctly see the failings of their fellows afar off — though they should be no larger than an acorn ; — yet are blind to their own faults, though they would overtop the oak. Abas (looking out). I marvel that I see nought yet of the Spartan soldiers. Protus. But what of the wine, master ? — tell us that. Clonius. Why, see you, as you were coming on Abas (putting his hand on the mouth of Clonius). Why ! wilt thou now ? Thou know'st well enough I tell a tale better than any man in Thebes ; — and that has been said a hundred times. Clonius (aside). I've heard you say it, nobody else. Abas. Let the winner tell of a battle ; — not him that lost it. Clonius (aside). The old wide-mouthed villain ! I'll put a viper into his wine. Abas. And now, mine honest Protus, will I show to thee how it is that I did not jest, — yet, in a sort, did jest ; — and yet again did no such matter : — how it is that your sweet-faced young wife — whose progenitors Jupiter bless ! — did, albeit she deny it, bestow on me the foresaid two skins of ruby wine. Also will I make apparent to you how that, for a clear-spying eye, this youth doth in no way match my age, and also but by the great Apollo ! there is the noble Epaminondas, — the bravest of our philosophers, and the wisest of our soldiers, as the valiant Pelopidas hath ofttimes said. Wait awhile, — for I must have speech with him touching great concerns. I will return anon, and discourse further with you. (He walks to Epaminondas, who sits on the root of a tree, a book in his hand.) Clonius. A meddlesome — prating — overbearing — conceited old fool ! I owe him money that I can't just now pay him, PELOPIDAS. 7 and so he plays the lord over me. He would tell me how many paces I should take during the day ; — and count out my breathings — and regulate the number of my heart-strokes ! Protus. But what's this about the wine-skins ? Clonius. The noisy — prating old swaggerer ! He's for ever raising a thunder-storm inside a soap-bubble. 'Tis just this. As you came tow'rds us, and when we could barely see you through the mist, — ' Bless us !' said I ; ' here comes Protus with his sister ! what brings them to Thebes so early ?' ' 'Tis not his sister,' replies old Backstitch; "tis his wife.' Now I, — not knowing you were married, — said again 'twas your sister; and he, thereat, bets me two skins of wine — which I have lost — and there's the whole matter. But what make you at Thebes so early this fresh morning ? Protus. Oh ! just to see the procession to the feast, and to shake hands with some old friends. My wife has relations here whom she has not seen since her wedding. You come, I suppose, to take a look at the Spartan troops yonder ? Clonius. We do. How far are they off? Protus. Why, you might see them now but for the fog. They may be perhaps a thousand paces off. They have been marching since peep of morning, and are just going to put up their tents. Clonius. What may their number be ? Hast heard, or canst give any guess ? Protus. I have not heard, and truly have no guess. Were they corn-sheaves instead of soldiers, perhaps I might have better chance to count them. Let the tailor stick to his needle, and the weaver to his loom — and we then may have good cloth, well sewn : and so good morning to you, sir ; and Ceres send us a bountiful harvest. Clonius. Good-morning to you, friend ; good-morning, pretty mistress, and a happy day, though I have been a loser by those light-treading ankles of yours. Doris. Good-morning, sir; and may your wine be good, though / shall be no better for it. [Exeunt Protus and Doris. 8 PELOPIDAS. Clonius. What does the wench mean ? No matter ! I am sure / shall be no better for it ; but I have a good mind that somebody else shall be the worse. — Ah ! you infernal old rascal ! you everlasting — babbling — wide-chapped tyrant ! I'll have done with you ; — I'll defy you. This day is the last of your reign. Sooner than be your drudge, and your butt any longer, I'll go to prison and curse you. — He is coming away. I'll not wait for him. — How the old knave will froth at the mouth ! Ha — ha — ha ! [Exit. Epaminondas. Then be it as you say. So, or in any other fashion that affects not singularity. I love not these discourses. — For the slave you spake of ;— rebuke her if you will, but chas- tise her not. The whip is an odious instrument, even when used to the brute animal alone; — when applied by man to torture his fellow, it becomes as a fire that consumes both the victim, and him that throws it on the pile. Abas. Your wisdom speaks most wisely ; and I will rebuke the slave. For the fashion of the Epam. My good friend, no more of that, I pray you. If in aught I can render you service, say it : — if not, I have matter for reflection here, and would gladly be left at leisure. Abas. Of a surety, my lord ! and I humbly take my leave, and wish you a good-morning. Epam. Friend, farewell. {He returns to his seat.) Abas. And now, my honest Protus, will I read to thee the riddle I Hey ! how's this ? gone off? singular ill manners — even in a clown ; — but Clonius gone too ! the ungrateful fellow — whom nothing but my foolish kindness keeps from the society of a jail ! As I am a true Theban ! there he walks with as much majesty as if his body were his own property. Holla ! — holla — holla — I say ! By the glorious Apollo ! he heeds me no more than if I were a wood-louse ! A pestilent — ungrateful scoundrel ! — Within this hour shalt thou see the dungeon-grate for thy prospect ; and thy music shall be the clink of fetters. A horrible — heartless — thankless— impudent fellow ! [Exit, towards the city. PELOPIDAS. 9 Epam. Ye gods ! of what strange stuff have ye made man ! Yet some o't's excellent. Pelop. (without). Lead back my horse ; And gently — for this run hath tried him hard. (He enters slowly, still talking to the grooms without.) And see that Nimrod's wound be tended well : — I never saw a better mettled dog. Here — take my boar-spear too ; and let the smith Secure the rivets. — Ha ! my placid friend ! Kind soldier, — brave philosopher, — good-morrow ! Epam. The same to thee, Pelopidas. Look here. Dost see yon man-shaped thing, cleaving the mist ? 'Tis an old tailor, — an anatomy That cuts out cloth, — and holds discourse of sleeves, Shreds, remnants, hems, and tucks — backst'tch, and gussets ; Yet to himself he's a divinity. — Jove rules not with a lordlier hand the fates Of helpless man, than doth that shadowy thing — Now melted in the unsubstantial fog — The lives and actions of whom Fortune puts Into his grasp. ' I have a slave ' — quoth he, — ' A female slave — a disobedient wretch : — But, if to scourge her deep, or put to death, — I am in doubt : — will you resolve me, sir ? For you are wise.' Pelop. A most dispassioned lord ! And what was the offence ? Epam. His slippers brought Ofttimes uncleaned ; — his mantle badly brushed ; — His needles lost ; — his goose ta'en from the fire ; — His witty sayings mock'd behind his back, — And twenty such abominable things, The least a crime for death. Pelop. And what said you ? Epam. ' Doubtless,' said I — ' these are most serious things ! Slay her ; — and do it by some curious death, Shall mark to after-times her heinous sins, io PELOPIDAS. And your rare vengeance. Then erect a tomb, And on it have engraven the whole tale. Say, how a much-respected man of Thebes — A tailor, old and wealthy — had a slave ; — There give your name and hers — a female slave, Of such, and such offences guilty : — there Note down — ' your slippers dirty — needles lost — Jokes laugh'd at,' — note them all ; — let times to come See all the villainies ; and then conclude, ' This horrid wretch was justly flogged to death, — Roasted — or boil'd,' — just as your whim shall be, ' A warning to the disobedient.' Pelop. How took the tailor that ? Epam. With most grave face, At first, — like one who listens with quick ear To some wise judgment, whereto he assents. Now would he nod, and twinkle his small eye ; Now lift his furrow'd brow ; — now turn aside, With head aslant hard-gazing on the ground, Filled with prodigious greatness ; — but, erelong, The light came o'er him, and he saw, asham'd, His judgment-throne changed to a tailor's board, His sceptre to a yard. Enough of him ! — I wish there were not thousands such as he ! — Where hast thou been ? and what hath brought thee here ? Pelop. What ! hast not heard the Spartans are at hand ? Epam. No, truly ! — how ? — what Spartans ? Pelop. Can it be ? Or dost thou want more tailors for thy wit ? Epam. In very sooth I nothing know of this. Pelop. Why I — an hour back — and three leagues away, Hard in pursuit of a most noble boar, — A monster bristled like a porcupine, Tusk'd like an elephant, — and with a Epam. Stay ! — No more of that ! I join not in the chase, Nor hear of it with pleasure. To the rest. PELOPIDAS. Pelop. Well, 'twas a noble brute ! But, as I said, Thus distant, thus employed, — I hear the news Which thou, an idler, and upon the spot, Art ignorant of. Epam. So chances it sometimes. For Rumour's couriers do not always hold The broad, straight highway ; — but, like drunken knaves, Oft turn aside to where a welcome waits. Yet less an idler do I count myself, Discoursing with divine Pythagoras, — (pointing to his book), Or to these solemn trees, or cloud-swept hills, Putting mute questionings — albeit my limbs And muscles move not — than Pelopidas, Hot from the chase, — and reeking with the spoil. Think'st thou the mind hath not its exercise ? Aye ! and far nobler game to chase ! The spoil Far richer, and not bloody ! Pelop. There are birds That shun the day, and go abroad at night ; Others, whose wings are spread with the first dawn, And folded at the sunset ; — some that fly, With dull, slow pennon, ever nigh to earth, — And others that seem couriers 'twixt the stars, So pierce they the blue sky ; — some sweetly sing All the night through, — and some but in the day ; — In winter some, — and some sing not at all : — These in the hedge, or low grass, build their nests ; And those in rocks that overhang the clouds. Even of such various natures are we men : Spendthrifts, and misers ; fools, philosophers ; Idlers, and busy ; soldiers, men of peace ; Cautious, and headlong ; fierce as raging flame, And quiet as the night-breeze, that scarce moves The down on the young redbreast where he sleeps. Epam. Go on — I like thy rare philosophy Far better than thy boar-hunts. Pelop. Nay — 'tis done. The nightingale can never change his note 12 PELOPIDAS. With the hoarse raven — nor the gloomy owl Bathe in the sun-stream with the fire-eyed eagle ; — Nor more can we our proper natures change. Thou'rt a philosopher ; — a soldier I — A hunter — and a wrestler Epam. Nay — but hold ! — Thou art a soldier, and a good one too, — And passing brave, — for thou dost beat thyself, — Talking philosophy by th' hour, to prove Thou'rt no philosopher. Pelop. Then be it so ! Men bear with patience blows they give themselves ; Yet, if their neighbour do but wag a straw To threat them, swords must kiss, — and wounds must ope Their bloody lips to answer it. — But see ! The thirsty sun, who all the night hath chased The darkness that still flies as fast away, Drinks up the fog. Would I had such a throat ! I've had a chase almost as hot as his — I'd quench my drouth with the great Indian sea, And show its depths to daylight. Epam. Those are arms That twinkle so in this dim sunshine. Look ! Pelop. In truth they are. I see spear-heads, — and glance Of polish'd breastplates. Epam. I spy helmets too ; — And now they put up tents ; and I can see Scarlet apparel. — 'Tis the force you spake of. What make they here ? Hath it been well considered ? What say the Archons, and the Senate to it ? Pelop. All men know of it, — and consider it According to their humours. Of the Senate, Some blame, and some approve. The Archons, too, In this, as in all other matters, jar ; Ismenias, and our party like it not : — PELOPIDAS. 13 Proud Leontidas, and his purse-gorg'd crew, The haughty Aristocracy, commend. Epam. Who leads them on ? and whither are they bound ? Pelop. What ! hast thou drunk of Lethe, that thy brain Doth hold no figures of the past ? Bethink thee ! When — 'tis not yet a month, — for yon worn moon, So thin and sickly, was then two nights old — Eudamidas, with his two thousand, pass'd Against th' Olynthians Epam. Ha ! I know it all. These, then, are the fresh troops whom Phcebidas To reinforce them leads. Pelop. Rather, I think, This is the army's self, — of which the first Was but a handful ; — the thin end o' th' wedge ; Keeping the place till this, the broader back, Were ready for the stroke. Epam. I like it not ! This Phcebidas is a vain, shallow man : Will swallow flattery as the glutton shark Gulps the small fry by shoals. Nought comes amiss ; No compliment too vast ; — none too minute. Call him a god, — he rubs his hands, and smiles : — Commend his perfumes, or his glossy hair, — His toothpick, or his sandals ; — still he smiles : — Or say Achilles had not such a thigh, — Or Helen such a lapdog ; — 'tis the same — He smiles, and takes it all. — 'Tis dangerous To trust such men with power. Who comes this way ? Pelop. Ha ! 'tis a worthy man, — a friend of mine, And shall be your friend. I've oft promis'd him To bring him to you. But, for a rare piece Of Nature's workmanship, look to the dame That leans upon him ; 'tis his new-wed wife : The daughter of rich Thrasymed of Corinth. Epam. As well as from this distance I may see, 1 4 PELOPIDAS. She seems, indeed, a jewel for a crown. With what a grace she bends her to that flower ! Pelop. And rises now like — oh ! like nothing else But her own loveliness. Yet 'tis no flower That she has gather'd — but some stone or gem : — See how she holds it in her delicate hand Betwixt the sunlight and her sunny eye. Epam. Will they come hither, think you ? Pelop. So it seem'd As they advanc'd ; if not, we'll seek them there. Epam. I never saw a shape so like to what The poets in their verses make us dream of. Pelop. Oh ! she is more surpassing beautiful ! Hast thou not seen a willow, by the brink Of some bright stream when the warm south-west comes To toy, and whisper with it ; — how each leaf, And long, down-drooping branch waves gracefully : — Bends inward now, — as from the breeze it shrank For that it kiss'd too lovingly : — now wafts Sidelong its feathery hands, as it would say Farewell — farewell : — then downward drops its leaves Into the dimpling stream, — and, lifting them, Seems as 'twould rain a shower of crystal tears, For that the fickle zephyr had gone by. Epam. I' faith, a rare and most pathetic tree ! Pelop. Now, with a proud humility, bows down Its regal top, like to a jewel'd queen That courtesies lowly to her throned lord, — And now, lets go its tresses to the breeze, Like joyous flags that wave on festivals. . . . Epam. I see one such on the Cadmea now. But, in Apollo's name, what means it all ? Pelop. Oh ! you perplex me ! — for my meaning, that, I' faith I scarce can tell ; — but, yester-even, I rode from Copse, coasting by the lake ; — The waters look'd so beautiful, beneath The gawdy-colour'd sky, I could not leave them. PELOPIDAS. Epam. It was indeed a gorgeous firmament ! Pelop. You saw it ? Well, just where the river runs Out of the lake, there is a willow-tree Such as I pictured. The last sun-tints burn'd Upon it ; — and the evening wind so moved Its delicate branches, that I stood to gaze, Saying within myself : ' Sure never thing Moved with such perfect gracefulness !' — And then, I know not why — this lady's image came Into my thoughts : — so now, beholding her, I think of it again. Epam. And is this all ? The little hillock had a mountain's bulk, Seen through your mistiness. Yet so it is : — The beautiful doth conjure up its like Ofttimes in things that do seem opposite As heaven to earth. A little flower shall — Sprinkled with shining points — bring to your mind The starry firmament ; a grassy field, Waving before the breeze on a May morn, Shall make you think on ocean's plumbless deeps. Yet look not, gentle friend, too oft on things That shall recall that lady to your thought. Sweet-looking fruit may have a bitter taste, Touch'd by unholy lips. Pelop. Oh Jupiter ! May not one gaze at some bright-twinkling star, Nor wish to steal it ? — She's my dear friend's wife, And so fenc'd round with rock of adamant ; But, were such fruit my own, — by heavens ! methinks I'd swallow it at once. Epam. Soft — soft — they come. (Enter Androclides and Thulia.) Pelop. Good-morrow, Androclides ; — and, sweet Thulia, A thousand, and ten thousand happy morrows. I've promis'd oft to bring you to the shine Of our bright Theban sun. — Epaminondas, 1 6 PELOPIDAS. This is my good friend Androclides ; —this The goddess who to young Anchises here Hath given her hand ; — although, on further thought, 'Twas not the fashion with that dame to wed, And these have been to th' altar — so, at once, I'll name her as the lady Thulia — The wife of this same blushing friend of mine. Epam. They're both most welcome. Often have I heard, In the mad talk of this our hunting friend, Of your true worth, and shall esteem me rich, Possessing such a friendship. — Your fair lady Oft makes companions of the morning hours, If that her cheek tell truth. Andro. She's nought but truth ! Thulia. What ! Androclides ! You turn'd flatterer too ? I've heard you say such things were but base coin With a fair impress ; — nay, you call'd them trash, Such as the merchants give to savage men Of Ind ; — expecting, for their worthless toys, Gold-dust, or costly jewels : — knaves, and fools, You call'd the parties — ha ! — what say you, sir ? Andro. That you're a little knave, to use those arms Upon your friends, were given you 'gainst your foes. Pelop. Hark, Androclides— I've a rare conceit Just hatch'd, and it must forth. We'll call thy wife, For that she is of Corinth, — and to thee, — A plain, strong pillar — the chief ornament — We'll call her thy Corinthian Capital. — What say you, lady? — Shall it not be so ? Thulia. The Capital is nought without the shaft That gives it eminence ; nor would I wish For better name than Androclides' wife. But, good my lord, jest on, if so you will. Andro. Look ! here's the man who pass'd us even now With such vehement gesture : — sure he's mad ! Epam. Ha ! 'tis our wrathful tailor. — Honest friend, Whither away so fast ? PELOPWAS. 17 (Abas enters with a Bailiff bearing off Clonius.) Abas. I'll hear nothing. You are an ungrateful and insolent villain ! Ask the iron bars shortly, and you'll find them as soon to be bended as I am. If you don't like to go to prison, — why, pay the money — that's all. Clonius (holding back). Wait but a moment while I speak to these gentlemen ; — they may perhaps assist me. Abas. Drag him along, bailiff : a horrible miscreant — gentle- men assist you indeed ! Drag him along ; — and if you'll put the heavier fetters upon him, why, your fee shall be the heavier. Thankless ! saucy ! proud-stomach'd ! — Ha ! my good lords ! I did not see you. Bailiff, let the youth rest a moment ; — we have time enough, — and such offices should be gently administer'd — As I've heard you often say, my lord — for you are always kind. Epam, So are not you. Fair maxims in the head, With a foul heart, — are but the golden spots Upon a deadly serpent. — What's your debt ? (to Clonius). Clonius. A hundred drachms, my lord ; — I undertook to pay it upon the death of my father — for it was a debt of his. Epam. Who was your father ? Clonius. He was of Thebes — and his name was Mydon. He was slain at the battle of Coronsea. Epam. At Coronaea ? Abas. Yes, my lord, I Epam. Peace ! Now, — Androclides — this hath happen'd well To put the seal to our new covenant Of friendship. You are wealthy — I am poor ; Nor, but for such a purpose, would be rich, Save in the treasures of philosophy. Discharge this youth, and take him to your home. I'm sure he's honest, and will serve you well. I read his heart. Andro. More joyfully I give, Than he can take his freedom, — for I am 1 8 PELOPIDAS. The greater gainer — gaining the proud right To call myself Epaminondas' friend. What is your debt ? Clonius. A hundred drachms, my lord. Andro. Here are two hundred. Satisfy this man, And keep the rest as earnest of your hire, If you incline to serve me. Clonius. Oh ! my lord ! I'd serve you, were't to swallow fire, or hack My limbs to pieces. While I live all thoughts Shall be towards your pleasure. And — kind sir ! Epam. Nay ! — throw me not again the coin I gave : — I did but utter a few quiet words That cost me nothing. Let them rest. Clonius. Oh ! heavens ! Pelop. So ! — I'm discharged from office, — and you, sir, Are the new treasurer Thulia. No ! you shall be Joint partners in this holy ministry ; And I your humble servitor. How say you ? Pelop. Lady — your slightest censures are strong laws That bind rebellious thoughts. But now, my friend, Where are you bound ? Andro. Our sauntering had no aim But the fresh morning air ; yet now, we hope, 'Twill turn to noble purpose : — our new friend Will grace our house with you : — Thulia If that be ' nay ' — To bring forth which you have purs'd up your brow, — I do forbid it. — 'Tis an ugly knave That stabs young friendships often to their death — I will not hear it. Epam. 'Twas indeed a nay, That I had fashioned, — for my purpose was To make the fields this day my study room : PELOPIDAS. 19 But to that nay I'll say another nay, And go along with you. Andro. We thank you, sir ; And hope our entertainments shall approve The love we bear you. — You will go with us ? Pelop. Ev'n as you will. I came to see yon camp : But I spy others going the same way — Whom I were loth to meet Let them pass by. {Enter Leontidas, — Archias, — and Philip.) Leon. You look hard at us, gentlemen, this morning. Have you been anger'd somewhat at the sight Of our good friends i' th' camp ? Pelop. Who looks not hard If a foul scaly dragon pass him by ? — Leon. Hot-headed youth ! beware the dragon's teeth ! His eyes are on thee, and thy factious crew. — Farewell — fare w ell . Pelop. Foul dragon, take thou heed ! Thine eyes are charmless, — and thy venom'd teeth May be pluck'd out. Hence to thy friends, black snake ! The air is poison'd round thee. Leon. Mad- brained boy ! Thou'lt hear of this anon. Come friends — away ! [Exit Leon. Archias (to Philip). Didst ever see a thing so beautiful ? Whence is she ? — what's her name ? Philip. I'll tell thee all As we go on.— Good Democrats — adieu ! [Exeunt Philip and Archias. Pelop. Foul Oligarchs — to hell ! — {To Epaminondas) Give me a word. Abas {aside). I'm glad of this ; and will cut close, and try to save good cloth by 't. — What a tiger this boar-hunter is, being roused ! And yet I think the dragon shall bite his nails for 20 PELOPIDAS. him. But, till then, I must stroke his paws, and pat him on the back : — and, maybe, I shall come in for a share of his skin after he is killed. Now, good youth {to Clonius), thou'lt not forget to say to thy master what I have expounded unto thee : — and be sure I'll not forget my promise to thee : — and — more than that — but come this way, and I'll let thee further into the matter. Thulia. Oh ! my dear lord ! — these rough encounters shake My nerves almost to death. — What dark, stern man Is that your friend so bitterly reviled ? — Andro. 'Tis Leontidas : — and the other twain Are Archias — and Philip. Thulia. Which was he With the red beard ? — he bore his sword up thus, Under his arm. — Andro. Oh ! that was Archias ; A loose, debauched man. Thulia. I'd rather see Toad — adder — newt — or aught more loathsome still, Than that man's countenance. Oh ! it is bad ! Epam. {to Pelop.) That will be well. I'll call on you at night And hear how you have sped. And, if the Senate Should favour you, — then stir Ismenias up To bolder questioning. — Shall we attend you ? {to And. and Thu.) Thulia. We shall be proud to be your satellites. Epam. Come, then, fair lady ; I'm your guest to-day. {Exeunt Androclides — Thulia — and Epaminondas. As Pelopidas is going out Abas detains him.) Abas. Most honor'd lord ! — May I entreat one word ? Pelop. Quick then, for I'm in haste. — Abas. Oh ! my dread lord ! I fear that I may this day have fallen under your most terrible displeasure. — Pelop. Thou hast :— for thou art a tyrant to thy slaves, and PELOPIDAS. 21 wouldst be a slave to tyrants. I know thee now, and cast thee off. [Exit Abas. But, most valiant, and honor'd lord ! be not so terrible in punishing so awfully for such a little sin ! Think — good my lord ! — for fifty years yourself — your honor'd father — and his father — have my poor hands been favor'd to clothe in rich habiliments — wherein, of a surety, most gracious and honor'd What ! is he gone ? — A foolish, raw-brain'd boy ! I'll give him up, — him and all his party ! — I see, clear enough, what color'd cloth will be worn next, and they shan't find me out o' th' fashion. Aye — aye — my hot mettled lad ! my old thimble may outlast thy young head yet I'll pay my court to Leon- tidas now, and to Philip, and to the yellow-bearded Archias : — and I'll lose no part o' th' sunshine for want of going be- times to work. — Cast me off — indeed! — poor green boy! — Cast me off! (As he is going off, the Bailiff stops him.) Bailiff. Tarry one moment, master o' mine. You promised me double fee, you know, for coming out o' my way when I was about other business. Your rich promises are apt to stink if they be not sometimes stirr'd. Abas. Why, thou most unconscionablest low fellow ! Hast thou taken him to prison ? thou knave ! If thou say'st another word, I'll let the Archons know of thy neglect of duty ; thou vile, avaricious — and over-reaching villain ! Pay thee double fee ? — Oh ! thou doubly double-faced knave ! Out o' my sight ! Bailiff. Then, my old goose-iron, I'll get my fee out of that yellow, parchment hide o' thine : thou vile, stinking old weasel ! [Exit Abas, pursued by the Bailifk. Scene II. — The Lacedemonian Camp. (Enter Phcebidas, with a Soldier walking a little behind him.) Phcebidas. Then let them move a little farther west : Is the brook sweet and clean ? Soldier. 'Tis as bright as diamond, my noble general : and, for sweetness, I never tasted its fellow, except from a small gush that I found one sultry day as I was climbing one 22 PELOPIDAS. of the hills that rise out of the vale of Tempe ; and that of a surety was . . . Phceb. Well — well — then let them move. But see the ground Is firm and dry — or else their bones may rue it. And look they rear my tent beneath the shade Of yon huge chesnut, — for these misty morns Bring ever a fierce sun. {Enter another Soldier. ) 2ND Soldier. Three gentlemen of Thebes, most noble general, desire to be admitted to you. Phceb. Who are they ? Ha ! my noble friends ! good- morrow. This is most kind. {Enter Leontidas, Archias, and Philip.) Leon. Archias and Philip (speaking together). Good mor- row, Phcebidas. [Soldiers go out. Leon. Why, Phcebidas ! — have you some charm or drug To make the years run backward ? By my troth You are a younger man than five years back Presented you. Is't not five years ? — 'tis more — When was it we met last ? Phceb. No — 'tis but four. 'Twas the third year o' th' last Olympiad, At Mantinea, was't not ? Leon. So it was. And well can I remember how you fought That glorious day. By Mars ! I flatter not ; But you outdid what I had e'er conceived Of the great captains that beleaguer'd Troy ! Phceb. Nay — nay — you flatter now ! I did my best, And that was all. Leon. So thousands did their best, — But yours was best of thousands. — Philip — you Can never have forgot how, when our wing, PELOPIDAS. 23 Broken — gave way before the Arcadian horse, And all seem'd lost, — then, like victorious Mars, Came Phoebidas upon his thundering steed. Philip. Snatch'd from the flying standard-bearer's grasp The glittering pennon : — with a dreadful shout Rush'd on th' astonish'd victors ; drove them back Leon. Scatter'd before him like the dust Philip. Trod down — And vanquish'd utterly. Phceb. Well — well — kind friends, — And if 'twere so, there were brave men besides Who have most well deserved. Leon. Yet but one Who did the best deserve. Phceb. Oh ! still you flatter ! Yet, in a sort, I do confess your praise Not undeserved quite : — but still you flatter ! Leon. Far from it ! — Your deserts above our praise Still soar, as, over the high-climbing waves, The broad-hull'd ship ; — go they as high as heaven, It still o'ertops them. . . But, brave Phcebidas, — Would you all former glories quite eclipse ; — And draw on you the gaze of all mankind, As on a new sun in the firmament — Listen to me. Phceb. Most patiently I'll hear. — Archias (aside). I wonder what's the color of her hair ; — I think 'tis golden : — something near my own : — Her eye was blue, — I'm sure on't. Leon. Now, my lord. — You go against Olynthus, a small town, — Whose conquest yet shall cost you many lives, — Much time, — much treasure : — be controlled by me And you shall vanquish a far greater city ; — The time almost o' th' instant ; — the cost nought ; — The victory sure and bloodless, 24 PELOPIDAS. Phceb. You speak wonders ! Leon. Which you may act ; — -and for such services Your country shall applaud, — nay worship you. Philip. Be sure on't ! or all men will hold them base. Phceb. Go on. Leon. Then thus. You know how in our Thebes Two parties stand at deadly variance : One, friends to Sparta, and just government, — In which we rank ourselves : — the other wild, Fierce brawlers-out for loose democracy, Which they call freedom ; — in whose faction stand Ismenias — Pelopidas Phceb. Go on — I know it all. What follows ? Leon. This, my lord. Either we must crush them, or else be crush'd. The frenzy now is at its height ; and blood Must be drawn forth to cool it. — Would you aid Your country's enemies ? — pass on your way : — They are the stronger, and must soon prevail ; — And Thebes shall then be Sparta's bitterest foe : — But, would you now befriend your country's friends ? Which, done, makes Thebes to Sparta like a child To a beloved father, — say but so— I'll shew you how to do it. Phceb. Pray you, on ! You know I'm yours in all things. Leon. Then, at once — This day the women hold the feast of Ceres In the Cadmea. At the hour of noon, When all will be reposing from the heat, And the town still as night, have ready then Your heavy armed men as for a march. I'll meet you here again, and lead you straight Into the Citadel. — No man is there, In reverence to the mysteries of the feast : — PELOPIDAS. The women we can quiet, — lock the gates ; And Thebes is yours ! Philip. Now, valiant Phcebidas, — Looks it not well ? Phceb. It seems indeed most fair ! Leon. It cannot fail. And mark the consequence : You masters, — we are masters, — and shall do As Thebes to Sparta should. You know it well, A proclamation hath been sent abroad, Forbidding any citizen of Thebes To join you in your march against Olynthus. But, do as I advise ; — and we will send, To aid you, numerous troops of horse and foot ; — Staunch men that you may trust. Philip. What say you to't ? Phceb. Ha ! truly 'twill be well ! Leon. It shall be well ! Thus, with a powerful army, will you march To reinforce your brother ; — and, ere he Can take Olynthus, you shall capture Thebes, A far more mighty city. Philip. Think but then How all tongues shall be busy with thy praise ! ' The hero Phcebidas ' — from mouth to mouth Shall go, in every city, where'er Greece Is known, or valour talk'd of : — all Phgsb. Great Mars ! I thank thee ! Gallant friends, it shall be done ! It shall be done ! This instant will I go About the work ; — and at the noontide hour, Look to behold me. Leon. Wise, and valiant man ! Then hie thee to the task : and the great Gods Prosper our just designs ! Till noon adieu ! Philip and Archias. Adieu, most noble Phcebidas. 26 PELOPIDAS. Phceb. Kind friends — Farewell, — we soon shall meet again, Leon. One word. Coming to you, we pass'd the factious chiefs : Lest they should aught suspect of our intents, Give orders through your camp for a new march ; Be the tents struck : — and show all outward sign Of hasty going hence. Phoeb. Tis wisely urged, And shall be done. Once more adieu. [Exit. Philip (speaking loud). A brave and noble man ! ( Then, after a pause) The shallowest ass That ever walk'd upright, and gossip'd Greek ! Leon. But still he bears our gold. — Go after him, And stay with him. Some wise forethought, or scheme May blaze up in his brain, that, of our plan, Would soon make dust and ashes. Thou, being by, Mayst pour upon it streams of quenching words That shall extinguish it. Philip. If he take fire, I'll wash him well, be sure on't. Fare you well. [Exit. Leon. Now, Archias, — let's away ! We've much to do, The Senate will soon meet, and we must speak To every separate friend of this high matter. Stay, — you shall call on — No ! I'll do't myself, He'll like it better. Come, away. [Exit. Archias. By heavens ! he dies ! she must — she shall be mine ! [Exit. End of the First Act. PELOPIDAS. 27 ACT II. Scene I. — The Citadel. Women holding the feast of Ceres. '''Hymn — sung in Chorus. {Enter Leontidas, and Phcebidas, — in armour.) Priestess. The mysteries are profan'd ! break off ! break off ! {The women shriek and run to and fro.) Oh ! Ceres, Proserpine, and Pluto, haste ! Avenge ! avenge the violated rites ! — Cry, women, cry ! let the heav'ns hear the deed ! Ye horrid men, detested by the Gods ! Get hence ! get hence ! Leon. Good priestess ! hear one word. Priestess. I will hear nought, profaning wretch ! get hence ! Leon. I will get hence, — so thou wilt hush this noise, And hear me speak. Priestess. Women, forbear ! forbear ! Now — what hast thou to say ? irreverent man ! Quick — and depart ! Leon. Most gentle priestess ; list With patient ear. — With no unholy thought, No over-curious eye, — no foul design To interrupt your hallow'd mysteries Are we come here. — Priestess. What then ?— intruding man ! Thy life may answer this ! Leon. Sweet priestess ! hear ! My life may answer it ; — but that is nought Where lives of thousands are upon the die. In brief : — A giant sword hangs in the air, And is about to fall. — When the sea chafes, The stateliest barks must be content to toss, * Probably never written, as a vacant space for its insertion is left in the original MS.— M. E. A. 28 PELOPIDAS. As giddily as cock-boats : — and so now, In this turmoil and tempest of events, Your dignities, and reverend privilege Must yield like meaner things. — Priestess. Ye Heavenly Powers ! Have ye no scourges left ? — Who art thou, man ? Leon, (taking off his helmet). Chaste priestess! know'st me now? Priestess. Immortal Gods ! The Archon ? — the stern Leontiades ? Can he be the profaner of the rites ? — The cold, — severe — the proud ? — Leon. Stay, priestess ! stay ! Thou know'st me ; and shouldst know that no loose thought, No madman's freak, hath moved me in this act. Time's hour-glass now is dropping golden sands ; And I must hence. What is about to be Ye cannot know. Enough, that it must be. With that content you. For your better peace, Thus much I say : — this tempest hath no bolt 'Gainst you, so you provoke it not. No hand Shall touch you, — not an eye shall look on you, So ye but keep retir'd. The place you hold Must be left free. (To Phoibidas) Now lead your soldiers here. Lock fast the gates, — and let none enter in Save such who bear my passport. {Exit Phozbidas. Factious crew ! Your good deeds now shall have their guerdon due. Priestess. My lord — these actions are most strange ! Leon. They are. All things are strange ; their causes being hid : — But, known — are common matters. Is't not strange That the bright sun — the moon — and all the stars Should, like a monstrous wheel, roll round this earth ? And is't not passing strange that the great sea (Phcebidas brings in his troops, behind.) PELOPIDAS. 29 Many voices of women. Oh ! heavens ! arm'd men ! arm'd men ! we are betray'd ! Leon. Silence ! ye cackling geese, — and get ye hence ! Priestess, away with them ; — and let them know They're safe while they are silent. {To Phcebidas) I go now Straight to the Senate. Look to hear anon The thunder burst that way. Farewell. [Exit. Phceb. And let the peal roar till all Greece shall rock. Now, soldiers, — lock the gates, and make all safe. Sure never fortress was so lightly won ! (The women go out. The troops continue to pour in till the next scene drops.) Scene II. — An anteroom leading to the chamber in which the Senate is assembled. (Two Guards enter, and pace before the door.) ist Guard. Hark ! didst ever hear such a noisy debating? —That's the voice of young Pelopidas. He's teasing Philip about the Spartan troops. Hush ! 2ND Guard. Who is't speaks now ? ist Guard. Ismenias — and now Philip — and now Pelopidas again, as if he were cheering on a boar-hunt. If thou and I, now, were to be as noisy over our potations, as these be over their disputations, — why, the fetters — you know ; — or a kiss from the whip for us. 2nd Guard. And reason good ! Are not these all lords ? and are we not poor men ? Zounds ! man — 'tis quite a different matter ! Your poor man is nothing but dregs at the bottom of a barrel ; — and your rich man is the wine above it. ist Guard. Which is the reason, as I take it, that your dry- throated Death commonly draws off the rich man first : leaving the poor dregs at the bottom to dribble away drop by drop, so slowly that one hardly knows when the barrel is quite empty. 2nd Guard. I know thy barrel is empty : for thou wentest to bed sober last night. 30 PELOPIDAS. ist Guard. I wish thou hadst risen so ! I tell thee I was as drunk last night as any gentleman need desire to be. (Enter Thulia.) Thulia. The young lord Androclides is within, — I' th' Senate : pray you call him out. ist Guard. No ! lady. I think he is not here this morning. I think I may say he is not here. Thulia. Good friend — I know he is here. Call him forth, For that I have to say imports him much. ist Guard. Lady, it cannot be : — for how can water be drawn out of a well that hath no water in it ? — or the lord An- droclides called out of a place in which the lord Androclides is not? Thulia. Here, friend, is gold, — so thou wilt call him forth. ist Guard. Faith ! and that's a chain that will reach the very bottom of the well. I'll see if he be there— perhaps — while I was away — or before I came — 'tis possible — What shall I say to him ? Thulia. Say that his wife would speak to him in haste. ist Guard. His wife ! — I cry you mercy, gracious lady ! (Goes into the door of the Senate chamber.) Thulia. Oh ! heavens ! what passionate voices do I hear ! Is there aught ill within ? 2ND Guard. Oh no ! my lady— no ! Nothing but a little flustration about the Spartan soldiers in the fields yonder. We never take heed of this sort of hurly-burly. 'Tis only a kind of thunder-clap high up i' th' air, my lady, — that, maybe, cracks a cloud or two, but never comes to the earth. (Enter Androclides and the ist Guard.) Andro. Well, sweet — what is it ? Thulia. Oh ! my dearest lord ! I'm much alarm'd. Andro. You are not come alone ? Thulia. Oh no ! my maids attend without. But first Bid these rough men retire. PELOPIDAS. 31 Andro. Friends, by your leave, We would be left an instant. [Exeunt Guards. Now, sweet girl, Despatch, for there's a hot debate within, And I am wanted. Thulia. But, my gentle love, Why will you mix in these intemperate broils ? Yet do not tell me. — Deeply I suspect Some wicked scheme in progress. I had climbed Our garden wall, to th' south, by a large knot Of purple grapes allur'd — nay, — do not smile, — 'Twas not to please my palate. . . Andro. Sweetest girl ! I did but smile to think what hideous giant This dwarf would usher in. — Pray now go on — By this dire bunch allur'd — what next ? Thulia. Nay — nay — I pray you do not mock me, gentle love ! But listen now : — yet shall I be most glad To have deserv'd your mocks. I had climbed up To look if snail, or any harmful insect, Were in the leaves, or fruit : 'twas all untouched, Purple and bloom most beauteous. As I looked, Admiring how each full distended grape Glow'd like an amethyst in the bright sun, And thinking how delightful 'twere Andro. To pop One after t'other in that pretty mouth Thulia. Shame on you, love ! I meant them for your friend. You know he tastes no meats : — and when you went So hastily unto the Senate-house, He would not stay, — but to the fields walk'd forth, Nor could my best entreaties more obtain Than promise of return ere evening fall. I hope he went not anger'd. Andro. Oh ! no — love ! He would have urg'd us rather, had we lagg'd. 32 PELOPIDAS. But now for thy catastrophe ! — this ladder Is very hard to climb. — Thulia. Yet, to descend To me was harder still ; — my limbs so shook, And every muscle so appear'd to fail : — As when, in dreams, you would attempt to run, And cannot ; — you have dreamt so, — have you not ? Andro. Aye, dearest Thulia, — many times. Thulia. But now To the chief matter. Resting on the ladder, I heard a sound that, for the rustling leaves, I took at first, — or it might be the brook Across the meadow, — or some harmless snake Brushing among the long grass : — or some bird Bringing her fluttering young on their first flight : — You know there are a hundred little sounds Among the fields and woods, that seem to be Voices of men far off, — or whisperings Of nymphs or goddesses i' th' air unseen. Andro. There are, my love. Thulia. And so I heeded not ; But, on the ladder leaning, trained the leaves To shade from the fierce sun the glistering grapes Lest with o'er-ripeness they should burst ere night : — And, sooth to say — but you will mock me now. — Andro. No love ; — if it displease thee, I'll not mock. Thulia. And if you do I care not. — I was lost In a long reverie of that blest night When, — sitting on the shore of the Piraeus To watch the sunset in the ruby waves, — You, — travelling then to Corinth — stay'd your horse To look upon it too. Andro. I did so, sweet ! But, seeing thee, forgot the setting sun. Thulia. So was I lost, methought I heard anon The hollow trampling of your horse's hoofs, — PELOPIDAS. 33 And, turning, saw the grey steed pawing on : — And then I looked again upon the waves — And then anon I heard your first soft words, Breath'd in my startled ear : — and then the sun Was gone down ere I knew it ; — and my maids Told me the night would fall, ere we reach'd home ; Which seem'd most strange, — for I thought not of night, Nor anything but what you told me of — And, all the way to Corinth as we walked, You seem'd to talk to me, — and pointed back To the deep ruddy sea, — or up to heaven, — • Telling of wondrous things, — as then you did. — And last I saw you in my father's hall — And the dear good old man, with a glad smile, Hastening to welcome you Oh ! heavens ! what noise ! Sure 'tis some mortal quarrel ! Andro. No, love, no. — There's a hot war of words, — but nothing more. Hush ! hush ! — I thought 'twas Archias speaking then — ■ But 'tis not he. They'll push him hard anon, — ■ And 'tis a chase I'd gladly join : — so, sweet, — Put spur into the side of thy slow words, And let them gallop to a close. Thulia. Well, then :— From this sweet reverie I was arous'd By a harsh, horrid laugh, just underneath, From whose most loathsome dissonance I shrank As from the touch of newt, or bloated toad, It had such foulness in it : — one quick step In my descent I'd taken, — when thy name, Distinctly syllabled, came to my ear. — I paused : — there was a low, dull, humming sound, Like a monotonous reader, — but no word Clear-utter'd as before ; — so once again I was descending, when another -voice, Not louder, but articulate, and slow, Arrested me. ' I thank thee for thy care ' — Such were the words, — ' they shall be look'd to close ; 3 34 PELOPIDAS. Thou shalt have ample vengeance ; — and yon sun Shall not set ere it falls.' Andro. Well ! — Is this all ? Thulia. All ? — dearest Androclides ? — Is't not horrid To hear thy name, and such terrific threats Coupled together ? Andro, But, dear Thulia ! 'Tis not enough that they have stood together In such disparted talk, as thou hast heard, To prove affinity. — They might have named, At such wide interspace, th' Eternal Gods, And some new snare for vermin, — then wouldst thou Infer great Jove turn'd rat-catcher ! — Why — love — 'Twas some foul beggar threating broken heads On those who had refus'd him broken meats — Some tinker, — or some cobbler Thulia. Oh ! no — no — Excess of terror made me bold. I climb'd To the wall's height, and, over-peering, saw The dark-brow'd Archon, — and the loathed face Of Archias — and with them the thin old man, From whom this morning you redeem'd the youth, Our servant now. — Andro. Indeed ! they saw not you ? Thulia. No — for that instant they were taking leave, And parted different ways. Andro. 'Tis odd enough ! A tailor, and two lords of Thebes, conjoin'd ! — Some dreadful purpose, doubtless !— Shall we send To Persia— to consult the Magi on't ! Three such malignant stars, conjunct, must point At revolutions — deaths of mighty kings — And fall of Empires !— Thulia. Oh ! my dear, dear lord ! Andro. Go — get thee to thy happy home, sweet wife : PEL0P1DAS. 35 Enjoy the present ; — for th' unknown to come Trust the good Gods ! Adieu — and go at once. (He embraces her, and returns to the chamber.*) Thulia. I will, love ; — yet my heart sinks utterly : — What can it mean ? (Enter Archias.) Archias. What ! do the Graces deign to visit us ? — Or is't not rather love's sweet Queen herself? — Bright Goddess ! thy celestial presence fills This chamber with ambrosia ! Thulia (aside). Thine with poison ! [Exit. Archias. What a delicious wrath was on her brow ! Her anger is more sweet than others' love ! Gods ! — there's more brightness in her darkest frown, Than in another's smile ! — There is more music When she most chides, than when another sings ! Oh ! thou most excellent witch ! I'll forge a wand Shall over-charm thy charmings : — and to-day It shall be done. [Exit into the Senate-chamber. (The foregoing scene draws, and discovers Scene III. — The Senate-chamber. ) Philip — Androclides — Pelopidas — Melon — Democlides — Theopompus — Pherenicus — Ismenias — Cephisidorus — Gorgidas — Archias — and other Senators. Ismenias, as Archon, sits on an elevated seat. Another, near him, for Leontidas, is empty. Archias stands whispering to a Senator who is just going out. Philip. I do deny it ! — and your empty threats Hold with the threateners in contempt. We never. . . . Ismenias. Stay, Philip — stay — You've spoken for yourself; And made a plausive tale. — Let Archias Speak also for himself : — but with no prompting ! [Exit Senator. Archias. I understand you not ; — nor is't my use To put my words beneath the pilotage 3—2 36 PELOPIDAS. Of any man — I need no prompter, sir ; — Needing no clue to lie by. Ismenias. Fairly spoke ! Melon (aside to Democlides). He means that he can lie without a prompter. Ismenias. Now, sir. — It hath been charg'd 'gainst certain Thebans, Yourself o' th' number, — that for traitorous ends They did, this morning, seek the Spartan's camp ; Encouraging, by every friendly mark, The bad design he undertakes : — 'gainst which, As a most tyrannous and foul attempt, The Theban state has set its face, — and made Wide proclamation that no citizen Shall give thereto his aid. — Sir, to this charge Philip hath made denial, — and, withal, Out of his courtesy, hath reasons given Why you did so — and so. Beseech you, sir, In the simplicity of your rare truth, That ' needs no clue to lie by ' — tell us now Why went you to yon camp ? — what did you there ? When came away ? — with other lesser things That, by coherence with this first report, Shall make your innocence clear. (A Pause?) (Several voices.) Speak, Archias. Archias. Hath Philip spoken, — say you ? Ismenias. Yes, he hath ; And we would hear you also : — that his words, Finding their counterpart in yours, may stand Unchalleng'd by the doubtfulest. (A Pause.) (Several voices.) Speak, Archias. Archias. But was there not a third ? — Best question him Before I answer. He hath readier speech, And will convince you sooner. — See — he comes. PELOPIDAS. 37 (LeONTIDAS enters, in armour, and remains near the door as if arrested by the words ^/"Archias.) They call us traitors, Leontidas, — friends To Sparta, and the Persian, — and demand Our business in the camp this morn. Ismenias. We do ! Who sees the vultures gathering, but suspects They have mark'd out their prey ? — But, good my lord — If you come arm'd against our questionings With such strong mail as clasps your limbs about, The contest must be short, — for we've nor words, Nor swords, to pierce such proof. — Wilt please you say Why this poor, peaceful company, and place, You honour by this most unwonted pomp And blazonry of war ? Leon. 'Twill please me much To answer thee, and all of you. My tale Is short, and plain ; — but, therewithal, hath pith May make it well remember'd. — Gentlemen — The Spartan troops are in the Citadel — ( The Senators start up. ) Be not alarm'd ! — They are not enemies Save to the friends of war and anarchy. — - This act had my advice. — And, furthermore, As general of the State, — and, by the power Lodg'd in me by the laws to apprehend All traitors, — for a public enemy I do attach thee here, Ismenias ! — {He steps up and seizes Ismenias.) Pelop. (rushing on him). Villain! thou'rt the traitor ! Loose thy grasp, Or I will tear thy soul out, — spite thy mail. Leon. Off! boy ! or thou shalt rue it. — Soldiers — here ! Secure him, — and convey him, — you know whither. ( The Spartan soldiers rush in. Great confusion, and cries of ' Treason! — treason !—flyl — we are betrayed P) 38 PELOPIDAS. Ismenias. Thou damned villain ! — Friends — away ! away ! Thy hour shall come for this ! — Haste — haste away ! (Ismenias is dragged out. The friends of Pelopidas rush out at different doors. In the confusion Archias attempts to stab Androclides ; but misses him.) Pelop. (standing by the door in a threatening attitude). Abhorred dragon ! Thou hast stung us now : — ■ But mark me ! — I will find a time to rend Thy sting and life at once : — thou hellish pest ! Mark me ! I say ! — [Exit. Leon. I will, so thou take not the speedier flight, Thou factious democrat ! — Now, friends — away — Let's follow them : — the sight of us shall be A spur in their gall'd sides to make them plunge And hurry to the precipice. — Let them fly ! Their blood, — Being so many, — would breed hatred to us, And stain the reputation of this act, Which else shall shew most holy. — But — away ! [Exeunt all but Archias. Archias. I think I touch'd him : — but the dagger's bright. He will escape. — What then?— she stays behind : — That's not so well : — the thought of him alive, Would fret me in Elysium : — he shall die — By heaven and hell I swear it — he shall die ! [Exit. Scene IV. — The city gate leading towards Athens. (Many persons pass hastily out, flying from the faction of Leontidas.) (Enter EpAMiNONDAS-^/raw the fields.) Epam. What means this headlong flight, — and these wild looks ? (Several voices.) Fly ! — fly ! Epaminondas. — Thebes is lost ! Epam. Stay — stay — I charge you. — They are gone. Just Heaven ! What may this mean ? — Pelopidas PELOPIDAS. 39 {Enter Pelopidas.) Pelop. Good friend ! Turn back, and leave the city. As we go, I'll tell thee all. Epam. What ! — play the runaway — And then ask what 'tis frights me ? Pelop. We're unarm'd, — Or I would stay and beard them. The black Archon Hath seized Ismenias, — brought the Spartan troops Into the Citadel. — yea, to the Forum, Whence armed men have chas'd the Senators. Still they pursue us : — we've nor arms nor soldiers, And must submit. — Hark to yon blood-hound cries ! {Shouts at a distance.} {Enter Democlides, Theopompus, and Pherenicus, in haste.) Demo. Fly ! fly ! Pelopidas. — They call for you. Theo. Haste ! for Heav'n's mercy haste ! — they seek your life. Pelop. But shall not have it. Make what speed you can Tow'rds Athens — I am safe : — My horses wait By this time in the palm-grove near the gate. {Shouts at a distance.") Hence ! hence ! Heaven guard you, friends ! Demo., Theo., and Pher. Adieu — adieu ! [Exeunt at the gate. Epam. Pelopidas — I. shall not fly with thee. Pelop. Then wilt thou perish ? — As my friend, thou'lt die Wert thou as harmless as the new-yean'd lamb. — • Thou shalt not stay. — By heaven, I'll force thee hence If thou resist ! — Epam. Pelopidas — these times Are like fierce fires, that separate the dross From the pure metal. — 'Tis no wondrous thing To lead an honest, quiet life ; — read books, And dole forth scraps of wisdom to one's friends ; — 4o PELOPIDAS. Wive — and bring up good children ; — pay one's debts ; — Give unmiss'd alms to the unfortunate ; — And so live on a comfortable life Of virtuous indolence, — at a small cost Buying the kind opinions of the world : — This may be only glittering hollowness. The bubble that the children blow for sport — • Seen in the sunshine, and the unmov'd air — Looks bright and hard as crystal : — but, a breath Dissolves it. — I've known many men, my friend, Who have led decent lives, — and, at their death Been held up as examples, — who but lack'd Courage or industry to have up-climb'd Guilt's steepest precipice. Pelop. But, my dear friend, — You need no fire to prove your metal pure (Shouts again.) Epam. Stay — stay — the moments are but few. Now — mark me ! Though the sky bend its arch, and threat to fall, I'll not leave Thebes, — till I shall be made sure I serve my country so. — Pelop. Then I will bid The groom lead back my horses. — I can die As well as wiser men. (He goes to the gate.) Epam. Pelopidas — Thou hast thy duties, — and I mine : the paths May join again, tho' in their setting forth Averse as North from South. — What is our goal ? Our country's good. — You seek it hence, — in arms, I — here— by patience and mild argument. I ask not you to tread my path : — forbear To urge me upon yours. Each, separate, May trip on lightly to his journey's end; — But, — forc'd together ; — one will lag by th' way, And drag his fellow backward. — Now get hence ! (Shouts again.) PELOPIDAS. 41 I hear thy name, with no kind accent, call'd. — Depart — I charge thee ! — Pelop. Will your life be safe ? Epam. Unless you stay with me, to lose your own. Their fangs, being flesh'd, might hunger for more food ; — I have no other fear. — From time to time Let me hear of you. — You're for Athens too ? Pelop. 'Tis our best refuge. — It were vain to beg, — And you're the wiser. — Be it as you say. Farewell, Epaminondas — dearest friend — Farewell — farewell ! — (They embrace?) Epam. Both shall, I trust, fare well, Though th' heavens look frowning now. Adieu — adieu ! Dear youth — -farewell — farewell ! [Exit Pelop. (Epaminondas stands at the gate to look after him.) Epam. Heaven never wrought a nobler piece of work Than thou art : — save thy huntings ; — that's not well : And somewhat over-fiery art thou too, Being provok'd, — or in the battle's rush : — But thou art full of every nobleness ; — Thy very gait bespeaks a lofty soul ; — Thy kindling brow is like a sudden burst Of sunshine on a cold and cloudy day. — The just Gods prosper thee ! (Shouts again.) (Enter Melon — Cephisidorus — and Gorgidas, from the city.) Melon. Epaminondas, have you seen your friend ? Epam. Melon, I have. Look there ; — he rides as cool As if he took an airing for his health, Or to make sharp his appetite. Cephis. Who is't That stops him now ? Melon. 'Tis Charon. Gorgid. Heaven be prais'd ! The harpies yonder would have drunk his blood. 42 PELOPIDAS. Epam. Perhaps not, good Gorgidas ; — we've sins enough In what we do ; — let our intents lie still. Were each man's guilt weigh'd by his enemy, The monstrous mass would burst earth's ceiling in, And crush th' infernal Gods. . . Cephisidorus, You look not well. I hope you ride. Cephis. My strength Hath been much shaken by an obstinate ague ; And this strange business doth me little good. Farewell ! — our horses wait. Gorgidas and Melon. Farewell — farewell. Epam. Kind gentlemen, adieu ! Heaven be your guide ! {Exit Epaminondas, towards the city. Cephis. In sooth I'm very faint. Gorgid. Come, lean on me. Cephis. I thank you. {Enter Charon, from the fields.) Charon. My noble friends, I grieve to hear of this ! Have you seen Androclides ? — Ha ! he comes. [Exeunt Gorgidas and Cephisidorus. Melon. Charon, adieu ! — you're on a slippery path, Yet strive to walk alone, or he who stays you May trip your heels up. Charon. Melon, thou art kind. [Exit Melon. Adieu — adieu ! I thank thee. — Androclides, (Androclides enters from the city) Where hast thou lagg'd ? I saw Pelopidas An instant back, nigh to the grove of palms. He waits for thee, and wonders at thy stay. Art thou not well ? Andro. Oh ! Charon. — I am sick ! — Sick to the heart. I hasted to my home To snatch from ruin the sole thing i' th' world For which I care to live ; — and she was gone ! — PELOPIDAS. 43 But that I hope a friendly hand hath borne her To some safe hiding, — I would perish here ; — For life, without her, were but agony Passing endurance ! — Charon. Hope the best, — dear youth ! If she be left behind thee, all my power — And, as a neutral 'twixt your adverse parties, Thou know'st I have power — with what sway beside Wealih, and a noble ancestry may give, — All power and influence mine will I employ To shield her, and, at fitter season, guide Where thou shalt point the way. Andro. Charon — dear friend ! Thou giv'st all comfort I can take. — Oh ! God ! {Shouts again.) Must I then go? — Mad hell-dogs ! ye would tear Your grey-hair'd fathers, or your prattling babes When you are raging. — Aye ! — you call in vain ! He will not bleed beneath your tiger-claws (Shouts again.) Charon. Hence — hence : — your name is call'd. To linger here May cost your life, and his. Beside yon clump Of dwarfish oaks I left my horse : your flight May be pursued ; — take him, and leave your own : — You may defy all chase : — twice hath that steed Been victor at th' Olympic games. — Hence — hence — Your foes are close upon you. — Stay not now For a leave-taking, — but farewell at once. Andro. Farewell — kind friend ! — Oh Thulia ! where art thou ? [Exit through the gate. Charon. Unhappy youth ! — There may be sharper stings For man t' endure than thine ; — but oh ! not one That with a deadlier sickness swells the heart Almost to bursting ! — I have known that pang. 44 PELOPIDAS, (Enter Leontidas, Archias, and Philip.) Leon. Charon, good day. Hast seen Pelopidas ? Archias. Hast thou seen Androclides, gentle Charon ? Philip. Who wast went hence ev'n now ? Charon. Good gentlemen, Good day to all of you. I wish 't may prove Good day indeed. But oft a wicked noon Follows such morning, and a woful night Closes what dawn'd so fair. Leon. True, noble Charon : Therefore, to have a still and pleasant eve, We shun the guilty noon. Charon. I joy to hear it You shed no blood then ? Archias. Philip — Philip — look ! There rides the wretch who sought my life — Charon. Your life ! — Who's he that did so ? Archias. Bloody Androclides ! Ev'n in the Forum ! — see where his fell dagger Hath pierc'd my robe, — aiming to pierce my heart ! — I'll after him ; — his life shall answer it. — (Going to the gate.) Leon. Stay, Archias — stay — I do not think 'twas he. Charon. I'd stake my life he's free of this ! Leon. Think, Archias,— In such turmoil how soon the steadiest eye Might be disturb'd, and see unreal things : — And of the danger think, if private broils With this great public question be mix'd up. Desist, I charge you ! Archias. To the public good My private must bow down : — let him go free ! — But wilt thou then pursue Pelopidas, PELOPIDAS. 45 Forbidding me my chase ? — Is yours not, too, A private broil ? — Leon. No — Archias.' — Went he not Through every street exciting to revolt, — Calling us tyrants ; — bidding men take arms And slay us on the instant ? No one stirr'd To act his bidding : — but his guilty aim Not less deserv'd the penalty. — -Yet, mark ! I give him up ! — his blood shall not be shed For this bad treason : — let thy private wrong Pass to oblivion then. Philip. I think indeed His blood shall not be shed, — at least o' th' instant ; — For, — else my eyes tell false, — he hath made free To take his exercise, our leave unask'd, On his black hunter yonder. Archias and Leon. Where ? where ? Philip. Stay — Now look ! — between yon row of poplars — now — Just over that thick chesnut — Leon. Yes — 'tis he. You can't mistake his seat, — nor the proud lifting Of his strong hunter's feet. — Well — let him go ! — And, gentlemen, — with most dispassion'd minds Return we to the Forum, — there to hold Discourse on what hath happen'd, — and to choose With wariest circumspection our new path, That, 'scaping this, we fall not in more snares. Charon. It glads me much to find such gentleness I' th' rear of so much fury. I have friends In both your parties, — being myself of none ; — And whichsoever shall oppress the other Inflicts on me a grief. Leon. We'll be like bows After the shafts are shot. — But hark ! — The heralds Make proclamation of our government ; — 46 PELOPIDAS. Let us away ! — Charon, a word with you As we go on. — Lend me your arm, I pray you. I wrenched my ankle with a fall last night, And now it stings me. Charon. Have it look'd to, sir. [Exeunt Leontidas and Charon. Philip. Archias — didst thou hear the heralds ? Archias. No ! — Philip, Nor I. 'Twere best we went to see the ceremony, — were it not ? I'll hold you a wager, Archias, that, at the next Pancratium, Polydamus shall keep the ring against all comers. Archias {aside). I'll employ a surer dagger, — and a more practised arm : — and I'll go about it immediately. Philip. What dost thou mutter, Archias ? Shall we not go after, to hear the proclamation ? (Aside) No answer again ? What the plague does he stare at ? — Ha ! 'tis his new dignity hath closed up his senses thus. It is wonderful how a carved stick, stuck in the hand, — or a robe of a new cut and fashion, should transform a man quite from the shape of his former self, and transmute all his thoughts and faculties, — his carriage, — and his most ordinary and unimportant actions as com- pletely as the magic of Proteus could have done it, — which, in the twinkling of an eye shall change you a good portly man to a wisp of straw, — or the hind leg of a toad to a grave Senator. • — I should like now to see a fish-wife suddenly created queen of Persia (Enter Thulia in great agitation.) Thulia. Oh ! Androclides ! — have you seen him, sirs ? I heard a voice i' th' street cry he was slain — For heaven's love — have you seen him ? — doth he live ? Archias. Lady, — but now with most foul scorn you eyed me. Thulia. Speak ! speak ! Doth Androclides live ? ha ? say ! Philip. Lady — he doth live ; and hath 'scaped unhurt ; PELOPIDAS. 47 I saw him on his horse, bound, as I think, Tow'rds Athens. (Thulia shrieks with joy, laughs, and falls backward. Archias catches her in his arms.) Philip. She's dead ! This is no common swoon, Archias ! She's surely dead. Archias. Dead ! Philip ? Thou'rt a raw physician ! She knows better than to die, I'll warrant thee. Women never die o' this fashion. The world hath not seen such a folly. They die decently and solemnly ; after distributing their trinkets, — their embroideries, — their infinite gew-gaws to their sobbing friends, whom, with a most breathless voice and trembling hand, they awfully warn against the follies and vanities of life. Philip. But, Archias — I do truly think she is dead. Archias. Art thou a mushroom, Philip?- — Didst hear her make her will ? Talk no more of it, — but turn the corner and summon my servants — and bid them bring the litter with them. — (Exit Philip) Which in truth was intended for a different burthen ; but the exchange will be a rich one. Now, my little proud-crested dove, we shall see if thou wilt peck at me, and flutter thy disdainful plumes as before ; — or if a close cage shall not bring down that haughty humour of thine to a more obse- quious humility. Come, fellows ! despatch ! But stay — set down the litter there, i' th' shade. The sun burns here un- bearably. Now, pretty dove ! I'll lay thee in thy nest : and, as thy old mate hath left thee, why, it will be but charity to find thee another, and a better perhaps. (He carries her off.) End of the Second Act. 48 PELOPIDAS. ACT III. Scene I. — A room in the house of Archias. (Archias and Philip are seated at a table with Philidas, the secretary to the tyrants.} Philip. Come, Archias; now break off. I think we've wrought Enough for one day's labor. How's the morning ? Archias. Philip, 'tis yet two hours of noon. Philip. So late ? I cannot stay then, for the games begin Betimes to-day, — and I've a heavy stake On my new Spartan wrestler. Archias. But a heavier On that we have in hand. Wait but an hour, And I'll go with you. We'll send word to stay The games till we shall come. — ■ {Enter a Servant.) Well — what's thy errand ? Servant. A messenger, my lord, is here to say His master, the lord Leontiades, From Sparta is arriv'd ; and, in brief space, Will call upon you. Archias. Say we wait his pleasure : — ■ Philip and I. Philip. And that our zealous love Makes us impatient to behold him soon. Serv. I will, my lords. — There's one below who waits Your pleasure touching certain state affairs Of moment, — so he says. Philip. We will not hear him. Bid him attend to-morrow. Archias. Stay — who is he ? Serv. 'Tis an old man who has before been here ; A thin, quick-motion'd, hasty-speaking man. — PELOPIDAS. 49 Archias. Tis our old tailor, Philip : — we must see him. Philip. Well — show him up. Serv. I will, my lord. Archias. And stay. Let some one go, and bid them stop the games Till Philip shall arrive. Serv. It shall be done. [Exit Archias. I think 'twere, Philidas, the better course, — Our colleague being come, — that you pen down Of our proceedings, since his going hence, A brief report : — together with a scroll Of such whose names, as traitors to the state, We have this morning noted. Philidas. Good, my lord — I know the Archon's temper, — and, even now, Am busied as you wish. (Enter Abas.) Philip. Well, Abas — well — What brings thee here this morning? Hast thou found New game for us to strike ? Abas. In good sooth have I, my lords. Here be six names of men whose evil dispositions, as 1 find on most trustless evidence, — might inflame the best-rooted government, — bring death, and foul distemperation to its purest strongholds, — yea ! and cause it to suffer shipwreck to its lowest foundations — as I have heard your lordships say many a time and oft. Philip. Hast thou, good Abas ? Thou grow'st eloquent. Mark, Archias, this great danger ! Here be men That shall inflame the roots of government — Its strongholds kill, — and shipwreck its foundations ! — Was't not so, Abas ? Abas. Yes, my lord. Philip. Thou'lt come Erelong to th' Archonship. Such minds as thine 4 59 .PELOPIDAS. Are. the great lights of earth, — and must be placed Where men can gaze upon them. Archias. Are they rich ? Abas. Yes — yes, my lord, — trust me there, my lord. I know all that befits a good traitor : — all rich but one, who is a tailor; and, I can affirm to your lordships, a most dangerful and treason-begetting fellow, — and his name is Borus. Archias. Then, Philidas, take down the other five, And let this Borus 'scape ; — or be reprov'd And, after, pardon'd. Such a lenience shews A justice in our measures, which some tongues Have tax'd for harshness. Abas. Pardon me, my lord ! Rather than this one should escape, 'twere better you let go all the others. If you would not trust a wolf in your sheepfold, or a lion in your nursery — trust not such a villain in Thebes. I don't know this varlet's fellow. — Would you believe it, lords, that I have now scarce three thimbles at work, — for honesty and loyalty are but ill-liked in this undutiful city, — whereas this most foul and disloyal knave Philip. Well, — well, good Abas — give us now their names, With what offence 'gainst each you have to shew, — And we'll consider it. Abas. Here, my lords, be their fair names foully written down, — with their abodes ;— and I'll beseech your lordships to look well after them, for they threaten instruction to the state. Archias. Here, Philidas ; take thou the scroll, and read, One after one the names ; — and then, 'gainst each, Note down, as they shall come, th' offences charged. Philidas. The first i' th' scroll is Acamus — is't not ? Abas. It is. And after it you shall find that he dwelleth beside the temple of Vulcan. Philidas. Tem-ple — of Vul-can. So it is, I think. Abas. Oh yes, sir. You shall find it, anon, a very audible hand: and, thank God, I hope the geography is pretty in- correct : the circumlocution is all my own. PELOPIDAS. 51 Philidas. I make no doubt on't Now, sir — the offence ? Abas. Why, my lords, for a particular offence, — I do suspect him indefinitely of treasonable distentions : — but my more distracted, and general charge, shall be that he did traitorously, and feloniously, aid and assist in counsel, and money, a certain traitorous and condemn'd wretch, who, by your wise and merci- ful reward, was fined and thereafter banished. — This, my lords, I take to be a traitorous and felonious flying in face of all ill- regulated governments, and leading to the Archias. Stay — stay : we must be brief. Against that name Write ' traitor' — 'tis but short, — yet long enough To make him shorter. — Go on, Philidas. Philidas. The next is Maris, of the Athens' gate. What charge 'gainst him ? Abas. Why, my lords, to save you time and trouble, I should wish to make against these five, briefly, and tediously, the same particular charge of treason; which, as I take it, reprehends in itself all others. I did begin, most indubitably, to suspicion their loyalty and sound principles when, — forsaking me, — I found them, to the best of their power, comforting and en- couraging that most traitorous and vile, and disloyal, and evil- minded Borus ; — that disgrace to our calling— whom I beseech you, as you love the wicked, and hate the virtuous, to banish from this city, — yea, rather to destroy from off the face of this goodly earth. Philidas. Your charge seems somewhat loose. Have you no act That more directly, and precisely points At this great guilt ? Abas. Why really, sir, and my lords, — if to be disloyal and treasonable be not to be traitorous, I know of nothing else that is so. If to call a man ' traitor ' and ' traitorous ' be not an indirect and precise way of pointing him out for a treason- able person, I must be content, having no looser charge to make : — would to God I had, if I might thereby pleasure your lordships. But what, my lords, is to be thought of persons that bear about them, in the very cut and fashion of their gar- ments, the proof of their being assisting to, and connected 4—2 S3 PELOPIDAS. with foul, and disloyal, and traitorous enemies to law and peaceable government, — but that they are themselves foul, and disloyal, and traitorous persons ? — and for such, my lords, do I here inscribe them. If this proof do not satisfy you, my lords, — why, let them go, — and take note of the consequence. Archias. They are rich, — you say ? Abas. Rich as Phoenician merchants ! Archias. Then mark them, Philidas. We cannot stand In things like these too nicely upon proof. — 'Tis sworn against them ; — that's enough. — And Abas, If, in the picking, they should prove as fat As you have weigh'd them to us, — you shall pick This Borus for yourself. Abas. I expected no less, my lords, from your love of justice, and merciless ministration to your humble friends and followers. My lords, I do thank you, and humbly take my leave : — and I hope I shall seem presuming in that I take it upon me to advise that you summon and seize before the goose cools. I have always found a stitch afore breakfast worth an hour's elbowing after dinner. — My lords, your humble slave. {About to leave, but lingers.) {Enter a Servant.) Servant. Three handicrafts men of Thebes, my lords, demand admittance to your presence on important matters. Philip. Let them come in. [Exit Servant. More accusations, I suppose. Our hives this morning will yield store of honey. . . . Archias,- — a word. {They whisper.) Abas {aside). What three men be these, I marvel ; — three handicrafts fellows, he said. What can be their business here, — meddling with government matters ? I'll stay and amuse myself with their ignorant appurtenance. {He retires to the side of the room.) {Enter three Artisans.) Archias, Well, my masters : — what is your pleasure with us? ist Artisan. Oh, my lord ! — no pleasure at all, my lord : — PELOPIDAS. S3 only we're come to give your lordships items concerning certain treasons and traitorous persons. Abas (aside). Why, what in the name of all the infernal deities, and the convocation of the immortal gods above us, — can those two rascals have to do here ? — I left them three under-garments to finish afore noon. I'll prick the villains for this. Archias. Well, my friends, — who are these traitors ? — give us their names, and abodes. But, first, who are you ? — what are your names and employments ? ist Artisan. My lord, if you will allow me to speak for myself in such a matter, why truly my name is Telamon ; — and I cannot confess to deny that I am more than a cobbler by trade; — though it may be, if the fates had thought indif- ferently, I might have been unfit for something better. Philip. Telamon is thy name? Telamon. At your lordship's pleasure. Philip. Aught of kin to Ajax Telamon think'st thou ? Telamon. My lord, I do not know the man. What manner of man is he ? Philip. Why, he was a great hero, and fought at Troy : and his exploits are recorded in the Iliad of the wondrous Homer. Telamon. Why then, my lord, I think it's like enough I may be of kin to him, tho' I don't remember that Ajax, — for I am myself somewhat given to be a hero, and have had many a tough fight in my time ; though I don't know that they have been anywhere recorded as yet, unless, maybe, in the judg- ment-books of the magistrates ; — but I suppose, my lord, that's not the same thing as the wondrosomo you talked of in his eyelid. Philip. Not precisely. Now, Telamon, what is your charge ? Telamon. Why, my lord, in the second place I'll tell you first of all right how things fell out. Archias. Do so, — but briefly. Telamon. Thank you, my lord; but I hope I know my 54 PELOPIDAS. duty better than to be brief afore your lordships. When I grow brief, I trust your lordships will disdain to correct me. Philip. Come then, Telamon, — despatch. Telamon. Then to conclude. First of all, my lords, you shall understand that I owe certain sums of money to one Palmus, a bad traitor, and a leather-seller. Philip. Good ! Telamon. By your favour, my lord, I think not. I mis- doubt it to be good, forasmuch as I owe it to this bad traitor, and moreover disafflicted person. But that's as your lordship pleases : it's not for men like me to say what's good, and what isn't good, — except in the matter of a shoe or so. Mark you now the upshot. Says Talmus to me, ' Pay me the money you owe me ; — pay me the money — you idle, drunken rascal.' — I'm not calling your lordship such foul libations ; — God for- bid I should have so much decency ! — that's what Palmus says to me. ' Pay me the money,' says he, — ' pay me the money, — you idle, drunken rascal,' — meaning me, my lord. Philip. Hard words, Telamon ! hard words ! and very un- merited, I don't doubt. Telamon. Just as your lordship says : hard words and very unmelodious. And so I thought, — and with that, up gets I with my hammer in my hand, and says I — ' Palmus' — says I — ' I suspect you,' says I, ' to be a traitor,' says I, 'and a treason- able person,' says I, ' and a disafflicted,' says I, — and, says I, ' I'll import you to the Archons,' says I : — and with that I knocked him down with my hammer, and he had not a word to say for himself; he was somehow clean conscience-struck with the way in which I defended myself. Philip. I don't wonder at it. You must certainly have descended from Ajax, — for he was a great dealer in the same kind of argument. Did you not also throw your lapstone at him in imitation of your great ancestor ? Telamon. No, my lord. It appear'd unreasonable to think there was no necessity for that, — for he never stirred more. The Fates had cut his thread, and a rotten one it must have PELOPIDAS. 55 been, and very badly waxed to snap with such a touch, for I ha' given and taken hundreds of such keepsakes, and never the worse for them. Philip. Then I suppose, Telamon, you have come to deliver yourself up to justice, and to meet your reward ? Telamon. Your lordship's very kind, — and that's just it. For, says I to myself, — ' Here's a great traitor killed, — and who did the job ? — Why, who should have done it but thee, Telamon, thyself. Pluck up heart therefore' — says I to myself, — ' pluck up heart, Telamon, and get thee before the merciless and ungrateful Archons, and ask of them the reward of thy virtue in killing and slaying a bad and treasonable traitor.' And what reward will they give thee, Telamon ?' says I to myself — ' what reward will they give thee ? — Why, to be sure,' says I to myself, ' what can they do less than give thee the traitor's goods and chattels, — house, garden, and stock in trade, — whatsoever that may be ? — Thou hast killed a traitor, hast thou not ?' says I to myself, — 'and what less can they give thee?' And so, my lords, here I am, and I trust your lord- ships will receive me to be an honest and peaceful and loyal subject, and worthy of discouragement and just reward. Philip. Why, truly, Telamon, thou art worthy of reward. Telamon. Thank your' lordship. I'll go and seize in the turning of an awl. Philip. Stay, Telamon, I have not told thee what reward- We have a law which saith ; ' he that killeth another shall himself be put to death.' How shouldst thou approve of that reward ? Telamon. Odsbodikins ! my lord, that's a good joke ! Hang a man for killing a traitor ? Then what would become of you, my lords, that have killed scores? But I like to see you merry, my lord. Ha — ha — : hanged for killing a traitor ! Ha— ha ! Archias. Fellow !— remember before whom you stand ! The awful throne of justice must not be A place for fools and jesters. If thou 'scape 56 PELOPIDAS. With life, esteem thyself too happy. Hence ! Black-muzzled dog ! — and learn more reverence. [Exit Telamon. Now, fellows — what's your errand ? Speak ! 2ND Artisan {after a pause). Truly, my lord, I have no speech for myself. Archias. Then who speaks for thee, fellow? Answer me, Or get you hence. {The two Artisans bow low, and are going away.) Philip. Stay — stay, my masters. Archias, you're too rough; Let me examine them. Archias. Just as you please. Philip. Come here, my little men, and pluck up heart : No harm is meant you, Now speak up, and freely. What would you with us ? ist Artisan {after a pause). Truly, my lord, I have no speech for myself. Philip. Why, I am sure thou hast a great soul lodged in that little body. Thou hast a hero's dimensions compressed into a space of four foot by one. Nature designed thee for a warrior, and a leader of armies, and thou know'st it not. So the diamond sees not its own splendour, while the world beside gazes upon it. — Dost thou not feel great aspirations within thee? — Speak. Art thou not ambitious? Hast thou not a noble and untamable spirit ? — Speak boldly, — Would'st thou not delight to make the desert lions thy playfellows ? — and the Rhinoceros and the Leviathan of the great deep, the com- panions of thy leisure hours ? — Speak — speak — I wait for thee. ist Artisan. I think I should, my lord. But truly, my lord, I have no speech for myself. Philip. Why, there it is. Thus doth Nature compensate for the richness of one faculty by the poverty of another. Thy valour hath swallowed up thy tongue ! Thy soul is in thy right arm. Thou only livest when dealing death about thee. What is thy name ? ist Artisan. Agamemnon, my lord. PELOPIDAS. 57 Philip. Did I not tell thee thou wert a hero, and a leader of armies ? Was not Agamemnon king of kings ? — the head of all Greece ? — the soul of all her warriors ? — Thy name be- cometh thee, and thou it. Methinks I could have known thy name untold, — had I but given thought to it, — so doth its majesty correspond to the nobleness of thy qualities. — Aga- memnon ! — Why, the very sound is breathed, as it were from the arch of thy forehead ! — The angles of thy elbows point it to the eye ! Thou art little less than a demi-god ; — would thou hadst a tongue ! — But come thou, the second, and scarce less august. — Thou wilt bless our years with the mellifluence of thy accents. What is it you would with us ? Speak ! — 2nd Artisan (after a pause). Truly, my lord, I have no speech for myself. Philip. Come, come: — deceive me not. — I see by the curve of thy leg, — thy brawny calf, — and the intolerable flashing of thine eye, that thou art an orator, and a law-giver by nature, — and, withal, vindictive and terrible in battle. — What is thy name? 2ND Artisan. Achilles, my lord. My father's name is Nestor, — and I have a little brother called Hector. Philip. I should think so. It cannot be otherwise. Why, thou must have in thee the united virtues and greatnesses of all thy illustrious namesakes. Agamemnon is thy elder brother, is he not ? Achilles. Yes, my lord : and Telamon is my cousin; — and I have a little sister called Diomed. Philip. Indeed ! But it might be expected : — for what should such a band of heroes and demi-gods care for gender, when they set number at defiance ; and only laugh at their pitiful case ! Your cousin Telamon is a bold and resolute man I think ; — is he not ? Telamon (peeping in at the door). As bold and deliverant a fellow, my lord, though I infirm it, as ever hammered leather: and if your lordships would but give me a dismission to come in, I would tack the whole matter together fcr you in the split- ting of a bristle. 58 PELOPIDAS. Philip. Hath he your dismission, Archias ? Archias. So he remember in what place .he stands, He may advance. Till Leontidas come, The time is ours to fool it as we will. Philip. Advance then, Telamon : but hold thy peace Till I shall question thee. Telamon. Thank your lordship. I never make it a rule to open my mouth to no man till he opens his mouth to me, and then Philip. Telamon ! I bade thee to keep silent. Telamon. I crave your lordship's pardon ; and will be as quiet as a lapstone. Philip. When it is well hammered, I suppose. Come now, Achilles : — thou terror of battlefields ! thou who, invulnerable thyself, save on the heel, — earnest wounds and death to thou- sands ! But stay : hast thou not been, perchance, a second time dipped in Styx ? — and art thou not now from crown to toe impenetrable as adamant? Shew me thy heel. — In truth thy armour there is none of the best ; it gapeth horribly ! Thou must be conscious of impassibility. Let us put it to the proof. (He pricks the Artisan's heel with the point of his sword.) Achilles. Oh ! — oh ! — oh ! my lord ! Telamon. For shame, Achilles ! My lord's only going to lacerate you a bit ! for shame, man ! for shame ! Achilles. Truly, Telamon, I like not such macerations. I will depart. Telamon. Then will I strap thee till thou forget thy name, and the son that bore thee. Listen to my lord — thou needle's- eye ; and answer as he shall forbid thee. Philip. Telamon — Telamon ! Thy ancestor was a mighty man, but spare of speech. Copy him in that, I beseech thee. Telamon. Indeed, my lord, I also am a mighty man, and I trust, at most times, have a speech to spare as well as he. — I've done, my lord ! — PELOPIDAS. 59 Philip. Now Agamemnon, and Achilles, speak ; what is it you would have of us ? Achilles. So please your lordship, Telamon shall tell. Philip. Nay — but I'd rather hear it from yourselves. What is't you fear ? Achilles. We come, my lord, to speak against our master, and if we should speak ourselves he would prick us for it. Abas (aside). Oh ! you vermin ! you are come to speak against me, are you ? And truly I will prick you, and sharply too. Philip. What ! Achilles and Agamemnon fear to be pricked ! You are tailors — are you not ? Agam. No, my lord, — only tailor's men. Philip. Well then ! be men as well as tailors. Speak but boldly, and I will protect you. Achilles. In sooth, my lord? Philip. Yea, most magnanimous ! in very sooth ! Achilles. Then, my lord, I announce my master to be a traitor to this government, — and a hard master to boot ! Telamon. Well done, Achilles ! thou'rt a brave fellow : — let them hear a bit of thy mind. Philip. Silence, Ajax ! Telamon. Telamon, so please you, my lord. Philip. Go on, Achilles : — you need not fear your master. Eut you often uncage your fierce thoughts upon him, I dare say. Achilles. My lord, we don't value him a button. 'Tisn't more than three years since we told him, if he didn't advance us two-pence a week wages, we'd dismiss him. Philip. Ha ! — you are men of mettle, I perceive. And did he advance you the two pence ? Achilles. No, my lord. Philip. And what did you then ? 6 ° PELOPIDAS. Achilles. Why, we told him, my lord — or at least we got Telamon to tell him — that we thought he might be ashamed of himself. Philip. Bless us ! That must have been about the time of the great earthquake. But now go on. Your master is a traitor, you say. What hath he done — or said — or contem- plated to do ? Achilles. Why, my lord, he hath said two or three times in my hearing, and in Agamemnon's to boot, that your lordship, and Archias, and Leontidas were worthy men — and that he had good cause to respect you — and he called you, moreover, true parrots. Agam. No, Achilles — it was worse than that! he called them ' true patriots !' and we've hardly been able to sleep since for thinking of such villainy ! Achilles. And besides that, my lord, he keeps down our wages — and that shows affection to the state. Archias. Come, Philip — end this foolery : I see Leontidas coming up the street. Philip. Well, my little heroes — depart now, and come again to-morrow — and bring your master with you, and we'll try to compromise matters. Abas (coming forward). Their master is here, my lord — and ready to answer all questions. Philip. What ! art thou the traitor ? But not now, Abas — our time is pressing; get you hence. Have you the scroll drawn out for the Archon, Philidas ? Philidas. Just finished, my lord. Abas. You shall sing for this, my mighty men. Achilles. We don't care a thread for you ! Philip will compromise matters, and then you'll hang, you naughty old tyrant ! Agam. And if Philip doesn't, Telamon says if you offer to prick us any more he'll strap you, — he will ! \Exeunt the Tailors and Telamon. PELOPIDAS. 61 Archias. Philip, you too much sink from your high sphere To bandy jokes with dirty knaves like these. You're talk'd of for it. Philip. Grave, and reverend Greek ! Heav'n's grace assisting, we will mend that fault. You also, solemn sir, are somewhat talk'd of For sundry jokes that from your lofty sphere Do make you bend ; — though not with dirty knaves But fair, clean ladies ; — mend you also that ! Archias. That sin's a flower grows in your garden too. But you are still a wag. {Enter Leontidas.) Archias and Philip. Good-morrow, Leontidas. Leon. Friends, good-morrow. Archias. What news from Sparta? Are our friends all well? Philip. How is the hero Phoebidas ? poor fool ! I fear his welcome home was somewhat hot : He look'd to have a warm one. Leon. In few words If you will listen, I'll unfold you all. But do not ask me now for argument Why this was thus, or thus : — nor question put Of unessential things, which, when time serves, I'll answer to the utmost ; but not now : My horses wait below, — and my great haste Brooks no unheeded stop. Archias. We are dumb statues. Leon. In brief then, Phoebidas, for having fixed In Sparta's crown so rich a gem as Thebes, Must pay, for fine, a hundred thousand drachms. Philip. Why, that's most excellent ! Leon. Ismenias — This is good news — hath ended his bad life Upon the scaffold. 62 PELOPIDAS. Archias. Pluto comfort him ! Leon. Touching the Exiles, — day by day have I Made it my theme at Sparta, — that no hope Of an enduring quietness can live But in their death. And, ere I came away, My strong solicitings had wrought so far, That Sparta hath to Athens sent demand To drive, — as enemies to all the states — The Exiles from her walls. How this shall be, Time must make seen. Now, since my going hence Hath aught of such importanacy chanced, It cannot wait my leisure ? Philip. No, my lord. Here's a brief scroll, drawn out by Philidas, In which you may behold the course we've taken : What traitors have been fined ; — whom put to death ; Whom hold in prison yet : — and many names Of men, on whom suspicion keeps close watch, To spring upon their treasons. Philidas, — If you would hear it, will run swiftly through, Giving the general scope. Leon. Not now, good Philip. Archias. I'll shew you in two words. Three hundred fined; Two hundred put to death ; — in prison still Four hundred, and four score. — You have it all. Leon. You have been active, gentlemen : and still Must toil on in your course. There is no law That binds down the fierce Democrat, but that Which holds him in his grave. The prison bars May let him forth ; — the longest banishment May have an end ; — his stripes may be repaid On us who gave them. — Lay him in the earth, And he's your true and loyal slave for aye. Adieu — adieu ! Archias and Philip. Good-morrow, Leontidas. Leon. Philip, if you should pass my house to-night, PELOPIDAS. 63 Or in the morning, — call on me, I pray you : I've something for your private ear. [Exit Leon. Philip. I will. Now, Archias, — let's away. The populace Will grow impatient if we stay the games Much past the wonted time. Archias. Come then, at once. Will you go with us, Philidas ? Philidas. No, sirs. And yet I will. You have a wager, Philip ; — I'll go to see you lose it. Philip. Thank you — thank you. [Exeunt. Scene II. — A Street in Thebes. {Enter Charon and Epaminondas.) Epam. Stay here a moment, where the space is free. If I were sure what course the fire would take, I'd help to kindle it. But oft it chances That, putting flame unto the rotten wood And choking brambles, the whole healthful forest Shall catch the blaze, and perish with the rest. Yet, in forbearance, there's a point to pause at, Where to endure, is to deserve the wrong, And I but ask, is this it ? Charon. No ! that point Is past already. Not to strike at this, Were to demand from Heaven a thousand whips To scourge us hourly. For myself I speak not ; — Their policy, — or fear, — or else pure shame To strike a neutral, — long and oft confess'd,— Hath left me yet untouch'd. But, can I see My friends — my neighbours, — plunder'd — fetter'd — scourg'd — Put to a felon's death ; — their children driven Helpless to the rude world ; — and all for sins So fine to our dull sense, that, to behold them, ' We must look at them through the tyrants' glass : — 64 PELOPIDAS. Can I, Epaminondas, see these things, And not risk all to mend them ? Epam. Or make worse,— That's the true question. Yet, so bad they are, — I bid you not forbear : — and, if I still Keep free of your designs, — 'tis but to hold A power to mediate 'twixt you, should you fail 5— Or, if the struggle waver, bring my sword And life to help you on. Tis the last grain That bows the strong-knee'd camel ; — and one sword Alighting on an even balanc'd fight, Shall make the scale go down What noise is this ? (Shouts are heard.) Charon. The Games are going on : — no — they are done ; The people flock this way. There's a new wrestler From Sparta, who three days hath challeng'd all, And been the victor. Philip brought him here, And backs him 'gainst all comers. — Well, my friends, How has the wrestling ended ? {Enter and pass over the stage several Theban Youths.) Several voices (shottting). Thebes ! Thebes ! Thebes ! Charon. What ! has the Spartan been thrown down ? Stay, friend — • How has the wrestling ended ? Theban Youth. Charon, — did'st ever see a child in anger dash down the toy it had been playing with? Just so our Theban champion, after amusing himself awhile with his proud adversary, lifted him up from the earth, and then hurl'd him to it again. — Such a fall hath not been seen. The Spartan will never wrestle more : — Philip rages like a whirlwind. Charon. Who is this Theban champion ? Theban Youth. No one knows; some rustic from the mountains it is thought. There he is, turning the street ; he'll pass this way anon. [Exit. PELOPIDAS. 65 {Enter, and pass over, more Theban Youths.) Several voices (shouting). Thebes — Thebes — Thebes — ■ Epam. Which is the victor ? — let me speak with him. Theban Youth. Epaminondas, this is he. (Enter more Thebans, with the victor^ his head crowned with flowers!) Epam. And thou Hast foil'd the boastful Spartan ! Thank thee, youth, For teaching Thebans that they may be foiled ; And in a harder struggle, would they try it. Come this way, youth, I would a word with thee. Wrestler. Go on, my gallant lads, — I'll follow you. [Exeunt Theban Youths, crying, ' Tliebes — Thebes! Epam. Thou art Pelopidas — deny it not Wrestler. Not I ! — no more than thou'rt Epaminondas ! What hath Pelopidas to do in Thebes ? Charon. Great Jove be merciful ! What dost thou here ? Pelop. Walk through a charnel-house, — and see the tyrants Make mockery with the bones. 'Tis pleasant, Charon — We'll jest with theirs anon. Epam. Pelopidas ! Art thou gone mad ? — Into a public show To bring thyself, — even in thine enemy's eye. — Beneath his very beard, — for the poor pride Of victory o'er a wrestler ! Pelop. But a Spartan ! 'Twas Thebes 'gainst Sparta ; — not Pelopidas Against Opites. — Could I, tamely, hear In Athens that a fourth time this proud bully, With Philip at his back, had held the ring — Defying Thebans in the heart of Thebes ? No — no ! I'd gladly reason with thy head, — But will not break my heart. — There is beside A greater business on my hand than this. 5 66 PELOPIDAS. Charon, I'll call upon you in an hour : — Be thou there too, — for much I long to clasp My dear friend to my heart. Epam. I fear some eye May pierce, like mine, through thy disguise. Pelop. No — no — 'Tis but to cast this bauble from my head, ( Throws away the crown of flowers) And I'm a noteless clown. — Were the black snake To scan me now, he should not know me thus, Were I resolv'd on't. I threw off disguise, Looking upon thy face — or even thou Hadst given, perchance, some oboli for drink To the stout wrestler. {Enter Philidas.) Philidas. Gentlemen, good-day. Where be your colours, Charon ? Charon. We wear none : — Philip hath ours, and his — more than he likes — Upon his champion's ribs. Philidas. By Jupiter, it was a glorious fling ! Philip hath lost five talents on that throw. He's in a fever. Pelop. Let him lose some blood. Epam. (to Pelop.). Come here, I pray you. (They whisper.) Philidas. Charon, who is yon clown That talks so free of letting Philip blood ? Charon. You do not know him ? Philidas. No — and yet, I think — Is't not the Theban wrestler ? — Yea, by Jove ! I'm sure 'tis he. Good Charon, for that fling, Give him a purse of gold — a heavy one ; — I'll be your debtor for it till to-night — But name me not : — such gift, in Philip's ear, Would sound but oddly. PELOPIDAS. 67 Charon. I'll remember you. What ! — are you going ? Philidas. Philip waits for me. Their bloody scroll still lengthens every day. Eight more were prick'd for death, but yester-morn ; To-day are four ; — and twenty mark'd for fines, Will crush them to the earth. My heart drops blood While my unwilling pen records their dooms. Dolops is mark'd for death : I've given him note, And he is gone. If you see Merion, Tell him, his gold, his jewels, and himself, Were safer in the desert than at Thebes. I'll call on you at night. Charon. Is there aught new ? You were at Athens since I saw you last. Philidas. I came back yesterday ; and shall unload My treasures to your ear anon. Take this For present use. — I saw Pelopidas, Melon, and Androclides, and the rest. Their purpose is resolv'd ; — their hearts are firm ; They wait but for the time. Another month Will ripen thought to action. Fare you well. Commend me to your friend. He seems intent To learn a fall of that same bone-breaker. Charon. Adieu, good Philidas. — Don't fail to-night. Philidas. Depend on me. — I' faith an iron fellow ! I've seen him somewhere. [Exit. Pelop. Well : — he knew me not. Charon. He says he saw you yesterday. Pelop. He did. Epam. Pelopidas, you have amaz'd me much. Let's go with Charon now, and hear the rest. Pelop. Go on before then. I'll take this way round And be with you anon. Epam. Walk heedfully. Remember you're a clown. — 5—2 68 PELOPIDAS. Pelop. And clowns must walk With sober step where lords may play the fool. The clown shall stick to me, fear not. Adieu ! Charon and Epam. Farewell — farewell ! [Charon and Epam. go out on one side, Pelopidas on the other. Scene III. — A room in the house ^Archias. (Enter Archias, followed by Menon.) Archias. Tell Philip I'll be with him in an hour. I'm wearied, and must rest ere I go forth. And bring more lights ; — and throw some cedar-wood Upon the fire : — the night is wet and dark. Menon. Lights ho ! It is, my lord, an awful night ! Did you see aught i' th' street, my lord ? Archias. No, Menon. What should I see ? Menon. Some of our fellows tell Of ghastly things abroad. Archias. What things ? Menon. My lord— You'll laugh, or else be angry. Archias. Tell thy tale ; Or I'll be angry now. Menon. They say, my lord, That many, long since dead, were seen to-night : Bodies that wanted heads : — and some with throats Pinch'd where the cord had strangled them : and some . . . Archias. Peace, fool ! Thou hast a body, but no head : Yet no one makes a wonder of thee. — Here — (Lights and fuel are brought in). Bring round the couch before the fire. And Menon — I'll taste the Cretan wine that came to-day From Bias. Let me have the crystal bowl ; It shows the sparkling best : (aside) and minds me too PELOPIDAS. 69 Of Thoon's wife — who thought that price enough To buy her husband's safety — till she learn'd To pay in better coin. {Aloud) Actor is dead. Menon. I thought, my lord, his sentence had been changed. Archias. It was. His wife and niece both sued to me, And I had sworn to save him : but too late ; He was found dead in prison — starved to death. Hath any one been here from Chromius ? Menon. There's one, my lord, hath waited these four hours. Archias. Who is he ? Menon. 'Tis an aged man, my lord ; Grey-headed, — a tall man, but bent with years, And very feeble. He's done nought but weep. Archias. And you've wept, too, for sympathy, no doubt ! Sweet, tender-hearted chick ! 'Tis his old father, — A proper messenger ! — Bid him get home. Say Chromius dies to-morrow, before noon ; Such is the law : — but let his daughter come Betimes i' th' morning, and I'll talk with her Touching her father's pardon. — Now get hence, And let me alone. [Exit Menon. Come, little dove, — I'll ope thy cage, and let thee forth awhile, To strut and flutter till thy plumes are pluck'd ; And that shall be erelong. (He unlocks and opens a door. ) Dear Thulia— Sweet lady, — I would speak with you. — She sleeps ; Or will not answer me. — How the winds shriek ! And Jove is thundering overhead ! — What now ! (Menon enters with wine, etc.) Menon. My lord, you call'd for wine. Archias. Then set it down. And come no more till I shall summon you. Menon. There is a man below, my lord, who asks To see you instantly. 70 PELOPIDAS. Archias. I'll see no man ! This is the plague of office ; — night and day, To be the bell for every fool to ring. To-morrow let him call. Menon. I told him so, And said you were abroad : at which he laugh'd, And swore I lied with a right modest face, For he had seen you enter. Archias. What's his name ? Whence is he ?— what's his business ? Menon. He'll say nought, But that he comes from Athens, and goes back By day-break. Archias. Ha ! from Athens ? A low man Is he ? — broad-shoulder'd ? — beetle-brow'd ? Menon. The same. A most ill-favoured man. You will not see him ? Archias. Yes, Menon. Bring him in. He comes with news From certain friends, and must be seen to-night. {Exit Menon. Now, Androclides — dost thou walk the earth ? — Or glide amid the shades ? Oh ! what small line Divides the now, from the hereafter 1 — Hark ! — His foot is on the stair : — ere I count nine It will be told me he is dead — or lives : — Yet 'twixt the healthful breath, and the last sigh, Perhaps was scantier space. — Well — well — what news ? (Enter a Murderer.) Murderer. 'Tis done ; — look here ! — up to the handle red ! {Shewing a dagger.) Archias. Ha ! — yes — it is so — put it by Murderer. My lord, You do not fear to look at Archias. Is he dead ? Murderer. Dead as my dagger's handle. PELOPIDAS. 71 Archias. Did he die At once ? or linger from the stroke ? Murderer. Why, hark — 'Twas in the night I struck him ; at his door. He fell against it, and the noise brought forth His servants in alarm. I could not stay To ask them if the job were to my mind, — But from the stroke — 'twas somewhere nigh the heart — He must have died o' th' instant — aye, my lord, Before the blade came out. Archias. Here— here — thy wages — There are a thousand drachms : — leave off this trade, And get a better. — Quit the house at once, And speak to no one. Murderer. It would please me well To have a better trade ; yet this should do, — Full work'd,— and at such wages. Thanks, my lord — I will obey your wish. My lord, good-night. A thousand drachms ! [Exit. Archias. Well ! — how is't with me now ? — I have sought this! Why should I shake to hear it ? — I'm a fool ! — What's in his death that it should scare me more Than that of scores each day ?— Yon murderer, — Fresh from the deed, — and with the gory steel Wrapp'd in his bosom, — gave me a ' good-night' As calm as the just man who leaves his child, Bidding it trust in Heaven. — I'll shake off this. What if I call his wife, and tell it her, — And so get rid on't ? — I will do't — Great Jove ! (He goes towards the door. Loud thunder is heard, and the room is bright with the lightning.) Why art thou angry ? (He looks out.) All the heaven is fire ! And the winds howl and shriek as they were mad. I cannot do't to-night : and yet I will ; — For she must hear it ; and, the sooner told, 72 PELOPIDAS. The sooner shall it work to my intents. — What noise is that ? — By heav'ns ! 'tis she— she sings — Oh ! God ! it is the song her husband loved Of his first wooing her by the sea-shore, — And on the way to Corinth. — Not to-night : — I cannot tell it her to-night ! — Yet must : The ill that we put off doth ever grow, Like an untended wound, to worse disease. I would this thing were yet to do. — 'Tis done ! — I cannot turn time back, — or I would be An infant now ; and free of this. — Menon {Enter Menon.) The door is barr'd within ; — she will not speak. Let her be told that I have news from Athens, If she will come to hear it. Menon. There have been Two messengers from Philip, — whom I told You were retir'd, — but would be with him soon. And now, my lord, he hath sent Philidas, With positive command to bring you off. He feasts to-night, and hath some Georgian nymphs Just come — and you must see them. Archias. I'm not well, But yet I'll visit him. Where's Philidas ? Menon. In the gilt chamber. Archias. Beg him wait awhile And I'll attend him. [Exit Menon. Philip's in a roar Of jollity, — and yet to-day he lost Five talents at the games ; — and two old friends Hath he impeach'd, to make those talents good Out of their broken fortunes. And Leontidas, — a strict, sober man, — That worshippeth the Gods — and keepeth free From wine, and women, and all sweet excess — He's in his quiet bed, — his prayers put up — PELOPIDAS. 73 His conscience easy : — yet Ms word to-day, Sent to their death three aged harmless men, Whom we had wish'd to spare ! Why then shall I, Who have but slain the enemy that stood 'Tween me and Heaven, be thus remorseful ? — Hence ! Thou idle idiot Conscience ! I will be Thy fool no longer. — Hark ! — she comes ! — Good wine, Give me thy potent spirit, — for my own Is weaker than an infant's. (He drinks eagerly.) 'Twas not she — She will not come. — I do not feel this wine, — My heart is cold, and trembling. — Here is some Of fiercer ardour, — I will rouse this coward Or burn him in his hole. — (He drinks again, long and eagerly.) Ha ! — now I feel it. Beautiful liquor ! how thy nimble spirit Glances through every vein and nerve ! — Brave wine ! Thou'rt the soul's sunshine ! — All, but now, was dark, Dark as the grave ! — I could have slunk away, And hid in charnel-houses. — Now, I'm bold — Light-hearted, — jovial — fit for Philip's rouse — What care I if he's murder'd ? (Loud thunder.) Roar away — Big, blust'ring Jove, — till thou art hoarse — I care not : (Enter Thulia.) He said he struck him to the heart Thulia. Who's murder'd ? Archias. Ha ! lady — are you come ? — 'Tis very kind ! — (Pours out wine.) Sit now, I pray you. Thulia. Sir, you sent for me, To tell some news from Athens. How's my lord ? — Archias. Lady — I pledge you. (Drinks.) Thulia. For soft pity's sake Tell me — I beg you, — is my lord in health ? 74 PELOPIDAS. I heard you, as I enter'd, talk of murder — For God's love, speak ! — Why do you look so wild ? (He drinks again.) Archias. Who heard me talk of murder ? Thulia. I, my lord. You said ' he struck him to the heart.' Archias. Tis false ! I had no hand in't. — Pour me out some wine, And we'll be merry.- — What's a murder now ? — Why, everybody's murder'd ! — Sweet-lipp'd wench ! Thou'lt have a better husband soon than he — Ha — ha — I pledge thee (He raises the bowl to drink. Thulia starts forward, and grasps his arm. ) Thulia. Monster ! hell dog ! — speak, Who has been murder'd ? — Say it is not he Archias. Why — who is murder'd now? — Give me some wine. Thulia. Beast ! thou shalt drink no more till thou hast spoke. Doth Androclides live ? Archias. Ha — ha — you jest — Why — he's been dead this month ! — stabb'd to the heart, — I' th' street 1 saw the dagger (Thulia starts back, in speechless horror. Archias reels, and throws himself on a couch.) Give me wine. — Philip — I will not drink again. — Ha — ha — Thou'lt tell his wife on't : — 'twas at his own door — Where be the Georgians ? — Fill another bowl — Dost know where he was buried ? — Ha — ha — ha — {To Thulia) Philip's a changeful wag, — thou shalt be mine- Aye — aye — that pleases thee. — But listen here. — There's been a horrid murder somewhere [Thulia returns to her chamber. Menon ! Menon — I say — I will go home. PELOPIDAS. 75 (Enter Menon.) Menon. My lord ? Archias. I will go home this instant. — Philip's drunk, And gone to bed — and all his Georgians too— I will not stay Menon. My lord, you are not well. — Philip hath not been here, — nor you with him : — But he expects you. Philidas is come, And waits to take you. — Shall I put him off — And say you are not well ? Archias. Ha ! — is it so ? — Then I've been dreaming. — Go — call Philidas, And I'll to Philip's revel — and we'll roar \_Exit Menon. Till we fright back that thunder. — Philidas {Enter Philidas.) Come — we'll be merry. — Is the litter there ? — I cannot walk in such a burning sun — • Where are we going ? — Philidas. Why, to Philip's revel. But, Archias, you've been revelling already. Archias. I think so. — Is it common, when we're dead, To ask our friends to drink with us ? Philidas. How ? how ? — Archias. Why, Philip's muider'd : — here's been one to tell me. — And now he bids me sup with him. — Mad wag ! Philidas (going to the door). Menon, call your fellows — get your lord To bed, and let him rest an hour. — My lord, Philip, o' th' sudden, is unwell, — and begs You will not come to-night. — Archias. Ha — ha ! — mad fellow ! He knows they stabb'd him to the heart ! — Ha — ha — • Will Androclides ask me too, — I wonder : — Pah ! — I'll not sup with him 1 — Leave me to sleep. 76 PELOPIDAS. Philidas (to Menon). Get him to bed. Menon. He will not now be moved : — He often slumbers thus. Philidas. Then leave him here. [Exit Menon. A cobbler had been fined for getting drunk ; — Aye, by a drunken magistrate — I've seen it. And now for Philip. How he'll stare to hear That he is stabb'd to th' heart ! — Heav'ns ! — what a beast ! [Exit. (Thulia enters, wildly, with a dagger in her hand. She stands over the couch ready to strike.) Thulia. Foul murderer ! — tyrant ! — 'tis thy latest sleep ! Thou wilt awake in hell ! — (She attempts to strike, — but starts back in horror.) Oh! horrible! Am I not mad ? — Is this the gentle breast That would have wept to see a sparrow die, — And now with murtherous weapon comes to sink A soul to endless tortures ? — Androclides — Thou'rt in Elysium — he sent thee there. — Monster ! fiend ! miscreant ! — But I will not curse ; Nor foul me with his blood — Sweet Heaven ! have pity ! — And let me not be mad ! — He may repent : I'll pray for him and me. (She throws away the dagger, and kneels down.) The Scene drops. End of the Third Act. PELOPIDAS. 77 ACT IV. Scene I. — A room in the house of Charon. (Charon sits by a table, on which are many papers. His wife, Clymene, employed in embroidering, sits at the opposite end.) Charon. So, dear Clymene, train our little flower, And he shall flourish ;— shelter'd from the frosts Of avarice, — ambition's feverish heats, — Anger's fierce tempests ;— free from all the blights And sore diseases that false culturing Brings on the pretty flowerets that we breed. — And, for his pattern in all virtuous deeds, His guide to wisdom, — often only reached Thro' error's mazes, and misfortune's glooms, — Still to Epaminondas turn his eye. As on the dial's face we look, to know How the blest sun is journeying through heaven, So, on that noble Theban let him gaze, To find bright Virtue's path. He will not err. Clymene. Dear Charon, let it be so. Charon. Briefly, thus I'd have him fashion'd : gentle — but not tame ; — Wise — and yet modest ; — firm — but never harsh ; Bold — but not violent ; — of cheerful mind, — Yet never heartless in his levity. — Patient, to bear Heav'n's judgments — but like fire, To snap the tyrant's bonds. Dost heed me, love ? Clymene. Yes, Charon. Are you ill ? Charon. No— Clymene. Is there aught Of such a doubtful issue soon to be — That you forecast the worst ? 78 PELOPIDAS. Charon. Why ask you that ? Clymene. Nay, Charon — answerme. — Whoare these guests- Coming so secretly, and unawares ? — Why arms, and armour, in the dead of night Brought, with a thief's soft foot-tread, to your house ? — I know it, Charon — and right well I know 'Tis for no boyish sport, — but some great act Whose mightiness and scope you think too vast For my poor mind to grapple with. — Dear Charon, When have you found me weak like common wives ? When have I blabb'd the thing you would conceal ? When have I shrunk to bear what must be borne ? When have I fled the danger should be met ? If I deserve your trust then give it me : — If not — I ask no more. Charon. I would have spared Thy bosom, dear Clymene, to the last, — But thou wilt force me on.— Dost think this Thebes Can writhe for ever underneath the lash, And not essay to snatch the bloody scourge From out the tyrants' hands ? Clymene. I thought 'twas this. Charon. My story shall be brief. Twelve Theban Exiles- Pelopidas the head, and heart of all — Have sworn the tyrants' overthrow. — With them, For life, or death, — for weal, or woe, I join. To-day they come ; — for them the meal's prepar'd ; — To-night they rest : — to-morrow will they strike. — To-morrow Thebes shall live, — or we must die. Clymene. A fearful throw, dear Charon, — when the dice Must turn up life, or death. Charon. We choose the risk. See that your bearing in this exigence, Belov'd Clymene ! — hang no signal out Of fear, or coming danger : —on your slaves Impose no charge of secrecy : — be calm ; Yet rather gay, than grave. Our looks, and tones PELOPIDAS. 79 Are Nature's language, which the infant knows Ere it can lisp ; — a universal book In which all ages, and all countries read : — Dissimulation turns the leaf, — and points The page it would have read. In this must we Play false for our true end : — yet, with a look Remember this as though we heeded not If any read at all ; — lest, anxiously Pointing one page, — a wary eye take note, And turn the leaf to read. Clymene. Hypocrisy, Dear Charon, is a garment I've not worn, And 'twill not fit me well. Yet I will try it. When the storm comes, our robes are well enough So they will keep the rain out. Charon. Tis a cloak Of magic web, that, on the giant's back, Fits easily as on the smallest dwarf. — Old age, and infancy ; — the mean— the proud, — The beggar — and the king ; — the grave — the gay ! — The vestal, — and the prostitute ! — the judge O'er his furr'd robes, — the felon o'er his chains ; — Tne lawyer — and the client, — the smooth priest, — And the rough soldier ; — the wise-faced physician, And his expiring patient — all — all wear it ! The father puts it on, when he exhorts His son to temperance and chastity, Unpractised by himself: — the son, too, wears it, Hoping his sire shall reach a good old age, That keeps him from his money, and his lands : — Daughters and mothers ; — brothers, sisters, wear it : — 'Tis worn in hovels, and in palaces : — At the bright altar — in the fulsome stews, — By day — by night — in sunshine, and in frost : — We wrap it round the infant at its birth, — We shroud the corpse beneath it ; — and the grave Hath it to deck its tombstone ! 80 PELOPIDAS. Clymene. I could laugh, But for far graver matter ; to hear this. Count all the slanders of thy life before, And they will not match this one railing fit. Thou art infected from thy natural health By some tart snarler. — Talk no more of this ; But tell me how your friends shall pass the gates, And walk the streets unknown. — Hath a calm eye Read your design, and found it well cohere ? — It is a fearful game ! Charon. But 'tis begun. — And must be play'd to th' end. The stake is down, And cannot be withdrawn. Clymene. And if it could, /would not say — 'withdraw it.' — But, your friends — Charon. All is foreseen. They come not in a group ; But separate, at different gates ; — with nets, And hunting-poles, like sportsmen : — so you'll call them, If any ask. With this disguise, and night, Or evening's duskiness to wrap them in, They will be safe. — Well now, — my pretty boy — {Enter their little son) Why have you left your play ? Go — get thee gone ; But come and kiss me first. — What want you now? Boy. Oh, Papa ! I saw little Polydarus this morning upon such a beautiful little horse — and he says it's all his own — and he's only six years old — and I shall be six next year— and I should so like to have such a pretty little horse to gallop about — and I'm sure you're a deal richer than Polydarus's papa — and I shall never like to ride my nasty little wooden horse any more, for it only jumps up and down and doesn't gallop a bit. Charon. Well — well — my pretty horseman ! — wait awhile : The roads are rough and dangerous : — wait till spring ; Thou'lt then be older ; and the mornings warm ; And, if I live, I'll buy thee such a horse : PELOPIDAS. 8 1 Wait till the spring, my boy. How wouldst thou ride In such a snow as this? — Go — get thy ways. — They'd take thee for a snow-ball on thy horse. Boy (as he goes out). Thank you, dear papa. I wish it was spring now. [Exit. Clymene. I wish so, too, my boy ; — then this fierce strife Would one way have an end. Is there no port, Dear Charon, where this little boat might lie, While we ride out the storm ? That prattling tongue Hath done what orators had fail'd to do, — Made me a trembling coward. Charon. Dear Clymene — O'er anxious to avoid, we oft make danger. The hare, in starting, draws the greyhound's eye, Who had been safe, close sitting on her form. Let him abide at home. Now, my dear wife, For some two hours I must go forth. Look gay : Let no one, from the clouds upon your brow, Say there's a tempest near. All will go well. — If Philidas return, say I am gone On that we spake of last. Clymene. Is that staff sound ? Or, too much lean'd on, may it not break short, And throw you headlong ? Charon. There are many men Whose fair exterior shews like firmest rock, Whereon the hills might their foundations have ; — Yet hollow are within ; — and at the last, When all yon pile is rear'd, will sink away, And whelm it in a gulf : but a true arch, Beneath the heaviest load still firmest stands : — And such is Philidas. Clymene. I say no more. You are not rash, dear Charon, — choleric, — Revengeful, — nor o'erfond to mix in broils ; — And therefore with a cold and wary thought Would weigh the chances, ere for life, or death, 82 PELOPIDAS. You drew the bloody sword. — Here I give up All doubts, — and trembling fears, — and do resign Myself, and all that's dearer, to the Gods, — To be as they decree. — Now shall your friends See if my weakness shame your confidence. Charon. Belov'd Clymene, thanks. — A cheerful heart Soars like an eagle o'er the precipice, Where poor despair falls headlong. — The spear, thrown, Will fall where it must fall, altho' with prayers We deaf all heaven to turn its point aside :— Our spear is thrown : — let's calmly watch it light. And so, for two short hours, — sweet love, adieu ! {He embraces her.) Clymene. Adieu — adieu — dear Charon ! [Exit Charon. I'm on a narrow plank, — above a gulf — And must not look below, — or I shall fall. Oh ! my dear Charon ! — and my sweetest boy ! — I cannot read what Time hath not yet written ; But the blank page doth blind me as I gaze, — Fill'd thick with shadowy horrors ! — I'll not look ! — Great Jove ! into thy hand I give them up ! [Exit. Scene II. — A room in the house ij/'Archias. {Enter Philidas and a Servant.) Philidas. Not risen yet ! . . . you say? Why, 'tis past noon. Is he not well ? Servant. He revell'd late last night. Philip was here, with several Theban lords, That loved their liquor better than their beds. 'Twas day-break ere they left it. Philidas. Is he stirring ? Servant. I think not, sir, — for Menon is not up. He stays his master's hours : — my services Are to the lady Thulia. Philidas. Is she well? Servant. She takes no physic, sir. PELOPIDAS. 83 Philidas. How in her mind ? Servant. She seldom weeps, — and never makes complaint. Indeed she talks to no one, — save to give Her quiet thanks for our poor services : — Scarce eats at all, — and is most pale and wasted. Philidas. Unhappy lady ! — Go — let Archias know, That I have spurr'd from Athens since the morning, And wait him here. Servant. From Athens did you say ? Philidas. From Athens. — And, good fellow, bring some wine ; I've had a bitter ride. Servant. 'Tis very cold, sir. {He places wine on the table.) Philidas. Why dost thou linger ? Servant. Oh ! forgive me, sir ! You know not who I am : but you I know To be the friend of my dear master's friends, And of his wretched widow. Philidas. What's thy name? Servant. My name is Clonius. On that dreadful day When Leontidas, with his faction, drove Pelopidas, and his, from Thebes Philidas. I know it. — Thou art the youth whom Androclides saved From prison, — art thou not ? Clonius. I am ; — and oft From this worse prison have I hoped to save My most unhappy lady : — but, alas ! . . . Philidas. I've heard of all thy faithfulness. Be sure It shall have more than thanks. Go — tell her now The sky is brightening ; — bid her have good cheer ; The clouds will quickly pass. Clonius. 'Twould please her, sir, To hear it from yourself. I'll call her here, And guard the door without. 6—2 84 PELOPIDAS. Philidas. Good Clonius— haste,— Implore her come. Let Archias, too, be told Of my arrival. (Exit Clonius.) How the news I bring Will make her heart leap up ! And Thebes— Oh ! Thebes ! Thine, too, must rouse, — or be for ever still ! (He fours out wine.) (Thulia enters, attired in black!) Philidas (aside). Oh ! what a blight hath fallen on that flower ! (Aloud) Dear lady ! Thulia. Sir, you wish'd to speak to me. You are from Athens : — have you seen our friends ? ; Philidas. Dear lady ! — sit. Thulia. I thank you, sir ; — my strength Shall bear me up through our short conference. I pray you, sir, go on. Philidas. Our friends, dear lady — Are well, — and full of hope : — and I have news Shall comfort even you. Thulia. Tell the cold corpse To wrap its grave-clothes round, to keep it warm, — And then bid me take comfort ! — But, go on : — I feel for others ; — for myself, am dead. Philidas. And yet the news I bring shall comfort you. Thulia. Go on, sir — pray you. Philidas. Lady — a great blow Will fall erelong, whose consequence may be Deliverance to yourself — and to all Thebes Thulia. Oh God ! be merciful ! and speed that blow, — So it be just ! Philidas. I may not more declare, How this shall be. Heaven, in its mercy, keeps The future from our eyes, — or our great dooms Would madden us to see them. And in this, If in nought else, I'll copy the kind Gods. PELOPIDAS. 85 Knowledge is good, but as it works to good; — Beyond that, — evil merely. Not to know The ill may visit us, — is, not to see The sharpening knife may cut us to the bone : — Not to foreknow the good may chance to us— Is — not to crave a fruit may be most sweet; — Or may conceal a scorpion : — therefore, lady Thulia. You are most kind, sir, and I thank you much. If you have aught of moment else to say I pray you tell it ; for this conference stands On a gulf's brink. Philidas. No, lady ; — Clonius waits — Our guard without the door. There is a thing I have to tell ; — that I would not but tell For half this city's wealth : — and yet, when told, 'Twill shake you like a plague fit. Thulia. Pray, sir, tell it : And see how harmless will your tempest blow Upon my icy bosom. — Oh ! you know not — But, pray you, on sir. Philidas. When the sun is set, Then come the freezing cold, and the black darkness, And all the world seems dead. — But, when again From the clear east he throws his golden fires, — Darkness is gone ; — the dead earth lives anew — Dost thou conceive me, lady ? Thulia. I know not What thought you'd have me fashion from these words : But you mean kindly, sir. My sun is set — In the dark grave ; — but never more shall rise To bid me live ! — Such settings have no dawn ! Philidas. Yet, dearest lady — it hath sometimes chanced, That, when we thought the bright orb gone below, It hath but shrouded in some ebon cloud, From which to burst in glory. — Thulia (after an earnest pause). Either, sir, With most false judgment, you would seek to rouse 86 PELOPIDAS. My torpid heart by touch of cruel fire, — Which were a grievous sin — or — tell me, sir — I have a thought — Great God ! — it cannot be — (She seizes his hand.) Tell— tell me— doth he— doth he Philidas. Lady, pause. Go not too far. Joy hath its drowning depths As well as grief. Thulia. Speak — speak — my heart — my heart — Mercy — for mercy speak — doth he Philidas. He doth ! Thulia. Ha ! — speak his name Philidas. Thy lord ! — is— not — yet — dead — Thulia. Ha ! ha ! — not dead ? — not dead ? — did'st say not dead? Philidas. Yes, dearest lady : I did say not dead. Thulia. Art thou awake ? — Am I not lunatic ? — Oh ! burn me— cut me to the quick — not dead? — My Androclides— is it he ? Philidas. Yes— he. I say he's not yet dead. Thulia. Not yet? not yet? Where is he ? — where ?— Oh let me fly — where ? where ? Philidas. Lady — be calm ! Thulia. Where is he ? — I must go — Philidas. Be patient, dearest lady. Thulia. Where's my lord ? My heart will burst — — Philidas. In Athens is your lord — And there you must not, — cannot go. Thulia. Oh God ! And he will die ! — I will not be withheld • (She rushes to the door. Philidas. He will not die, — unless you go to kill him. PELOPIDAS. 87 Thulia. How's that ? — speak — speak — Philidas. I say he will not die If this wild rashness slay him not. Be calm — He is not ill— now start not, lady — force Thy frenzied brain to reason. — Hear — and speak not. The murderer's blow Thulia. Ha ! Philidas. Touch'd no vital part (a pause). The wound is heal'd (a pause) — his strength is come again (a pause) — Thou wilt behold him — {During this last speech Thulia looks with a wild eager- ness at Philidas — and remains silent and motionless after he has done ; — and at last sinks upon the couch.) {Enter Clonius.) Clonius. Menon is stirring, sir ; — and comes, I fear, This'way. Philidas. Dear lady — haste you to your chamber ; Your tyrant will be here— for heav'n's sake (He endeavours in vain to rouse her.) Clonius — Open the door — I'll bear her to her room Wait you a moment here. (He carries her off through the door at which she had entered.) Clonius. Poor lady ! thou wilt soon go to thy rest ! Then Archias — then — look for thy punishment — ■ (Enter Philidas.) Philidas. Is it not strange how joy should mimic grief? She's like a statue, — cold and bath'd in tears, I've laid her on a couch. Go — send her women — But speak no word of this. — Ha ! gentlemen — 88 PELOPWAS. (Enter Philip and Leontidas, ushered in by Menon, who retires. Chomvs goes out.) Good-morrow to you both. Leon, and Philip. Good-morrow, sir. Leon. What news from Athens gentle Philidas ? What of the Exiles ?— Philidas. Set your minds at rest — I have so urg'd their speedy banishment, They'll have no home at Athens. — Nay, I marvel If even this day they be not driven forth. Leon. Your zeal deserves our thanks,— and something more That shall not be forgot. — Come with us now, And, as we walk, we'll farther question you. (Enter Archias, much disordered.) All. Good-morrow, Archias. Archias. Gentlemen, good-morrow. I pray you sit. Philip. Yes, Archias ; — but not here, We go to sit in judgment. There's a crew Of wealthy traitors for our morning's meal : — We call to take you with us. Archias. My good friends — I'm much disorder'd — but will follow you With what swift haste I may. Leon. As your true friend I tell you, Archias, — leave your midnight cups- — Your spiced meats, — and perfumed concubines, — ■ Or you will rue it. Archias. Sir — you are most kind To charge yourself with my poor private faults : I know not how to thank you : — but, dear sir — Let me entreat you, — be less cold, and stern — Pray less — and offer fewer sacrifices — And have more charity — and Leon. Ha! — what's this? — PELOPIDAS. 89 Philip. Ho! gentlemen, — for shame. — Nay — touch not steel : — If, of our goodly tripod, two o' th' legs Should break each other, — why the third must fall, And all be shatter'd. — Speak no further word — And think nought hath been spoken. — Archias — You'll follow with all haste. Come — let's away — Archias. Leave Philidas an instant. \_Exeunt Leon, and Philip. That proud lord Misdeems himself a giant, — standing up On his high self-conceit ! — Oh Philidas ! I am made wretched with distemper'd dreams. For ever at my bed there seems to stand Pale Androclides, with his gaping heart Spouting a flood. — I wake — and he is gone — I sleep — he's there again. — What may it mean ? How came he by his death ? hast ever heard ? Philidas. Now by my faith ! this is mere foolery. Take physic, sir : — it is the body's ail That thus infects the mind ; — and, purging one, You shall make sound the other. Archias. I do think 'Tis as thou say'st. — Here's for my physic then ; {Pouring out wine) 'Tis th' only drug. Is't not to-morrow night We revel at your house ? Philidas. To-morrow night — Fail me, — and you shall miss such curious fare As you shall marvel at. — Archias. What, — women ? — ha — You'll keep your secret still ? — Philidas. Yes, Archias — But take this of them.- — Thebes hath had none such Since she was Thebes. Archias. Ha-ha — good friend ! Come, come — Away — away — my excellent good friend ! [Exeunt. 90 PELOPIDAS. Scene III. — A room in the house of Charon. {Enter Charon, with a Servant.) Charon. Where is your lady ? Servant. In the dining hall. Charon. Go, let her know I'm here. [Exit Servant. (Enter Clymene.) Ha ! here she comes. Clymene. Oh ! my dear Charon, — what a long two hours ! My heart has been, as in a battle-field, Where fear and hope were killing one the other ; And rising still to fight, and kill again. Charon. And no blood shed at last. I wish our Greeks, — Since they must squabble— would invent some way To shew their valour, — and yet keep their limbs As safe as your two champions. Clymene. But, dear Charon, Hath aught untoward chanc'd ? Charon. No, dearest wife, Our chariot glides, as on a crystal road. — Think not of harm. Hath Philidas been here ? Clymene. No, Charon. (A knocking at the gate.) Charon. Hark ! — Theie's someone at the gate. Clymene. 'Tis he, perchance. Charon. His is a quicker rap, Like one in haste. — 'Tis our conspirators — But no — 'tis still broad daylight. Yet this storm Might serve as well as darkness for their screen. The earth is thick with snow, — and not a man Walks through the street3. (Enter Epaminondas.) Ha ! my dear friend. I did not think this storm Would let our sun come out. PELOPIDAS. 91 Epam. But — being forth — You'd wrap him in your clouds. — No — I'm no sun, For I cannot suck up your flattering mists. Charon. I would you were, — that you might then condense Your burning rays into one point, — and scorch Our tyrants on their thrones. Epam. Their guilt deserves Scarce less a stroke. — Fair lady — a good-morrow — I saw you not through your good Charon's fogs. Give me your pardon. Clymene. Sir, I've none to spare : I am a daily beggar for't myself. But I'll give 'good welcome' for 'good-morrow.' Yet why good-morrow, when 'tis almost night? For that give reason, — then I'll pardon give. Epam. And in these times 'tis no unwonted thing For reason to need pardon. — Folly, king — Reason's a rebel, whom each loyal fool Thinks glory to hunt down. — For your good-morrow 'Twere no hard task, methinks, to carve quaint reasons Through an Olympiad. Clymene. Cut us but one, And let it be fantastical. Epam. As thus, Is't not that we would lengthen the day's youth, Even as our own ? We like not that age steal Upon our brows, to draw his ugly curves O'er the smooth, shining forehead ; — and the hair, Glossy, and curling, and luxuriant, change To thin — straight — dull, and grizzled — or vile grey : — So still we put off, year by year, the curse : — At twenty, but mere boys ; — at thirty, men, — But young men still ; — at forty, nothing more : — ■ For what is the stiff beard, — the wiry hair — The hard, firm muscle, — the full-rounded form — The stern eye, — the strong feature ? — merely youth, Just where the blossom hardens into fruit. 92 PELOPIDAS. Clymene. But fifty comes. Epam. Oh ! then 'tis just man's prime Till now, the nerves were slack, — the reason crude — The passions merely mad, — wild colts, unbroke : — Life, till this moment, was scarce worth the gift ! A turbulent dream, from indigestion bred : — Just now he is awak'd — and feels his strength — And looks on real things, — not hollow shapes, — As through his life before ;— and thinks 'tis pity But man were born just on his fiftieth year. Oh ! what a world 'twere then to revel in ! Clymene. Suppose him sixty. Epam. Well, — and what is that ? If not so swift his foot, 'tis yet more sure ; — His voice is strong, — his appetite as keen As shallow-headed thirty. — For white hairs, Who, but a fool, would care if white, or black ? Or — caring — not prefer the virgin snow To the red clay, or brown, or sooty earth ? Why, Jove himself is painted hoary-lock'd ! And 'tis the mind that makes the man : — all else Is but the cavern where the diamond lies. Sixty is merely fifty at its best ! Happy who lengthens out a long three-score ! Clymene, But he is seventy now ; — or good four-score. Epam. Blest time ! Oh ! what soft calm is all about ! Life's fever is burnt down : — and the mild pulse Vibrates so quietly ! — 'Tis wisdom's hour ! And wisdom is true strength : — not that brute force That lies in the full arm, or nervous thigh : — The ox, in that, is greater than the man. Oh ! this, at last, is the true wine of life ! All, past before, was merely pulp, and rind, In a long fermentation. The shrunk limbs — The palsied hand — the hairless crown — the voice — Thin, and as frequent as the grasshopper's — Why — what are these ? — Merely the lengthening shades PELOPIDAS. 93 That mark the evening coming that must come ; — And comes more oft to fifteen, than four-score ! — Be happy then ! — The sun is just as bright, About to set, as when 'twas newly risen : — Nay, brighter, — for the morning's fogs are gone. So talks th' old man : — old to the world alone ; But, to himself, an everlasting youth ; — Less beauteous perhaps, — but better, and more wise. I have known many such. — And so't may be We like to lengthen out the youth o'th' day, And bid — ' good-morrow ' — till the sun hath set. At least, fair lady — that's my first quaint guess. (A knocking at the gate.) Clymene. I'll tax you for a better at fit hour. I could make such myself, to my wheel's hum. Epam. If 'twere not to waste time, that house-affairs Might better use. — But now, my noble friend, — What news from Athens ? Charon. You shall hear, anon. (A Servant enters, ushering in Pelopidas and Melon, dressed like hunters. ) Right welcome, gentlemen, — I fear your sport Hath little prosper'd in so rough a day. Where have you left your friends ? Pelop. They are below, Shaking their garments. 'Tis a pelting snow : But we're not empty quite : — we've left without A three days' feast for half a score sharp stomachs ; Our own as sharp as any. Charon, {to the Servant). Let the meal Be placed with all good speed : — and see the fire Roar up with plenteous logs. Servant. I will, my lord. [Exit. Charon. Now, my dear friends, — again, — right welcome home ! (Looking at Epaminondas) He knows you not, Pelopidas ; — nor yet Partakes our plot. Shall we withhold it still ? (They whisper.) 94 PELOPIDAS. Epam. I take my leave, dear lady. These are birds With whom I would not wish to share the nest. Commend me to your lord. Clymene. You shall not go : — They're not all vultures. They're from Athens, too ; Will tell you of your friends. Epam. For that I'll wait. Pelop. No, Charon ; — he must join us. His sole voice Will call a thousand young and ardent spirits, Proud to encounter death for any straw He flings in honour's stream. — His word shall give A stamp on that we do, shall prove it gold, — Which else might seem but brass. — I'll find a time To urge him to it. — Lady, my ill manners, More than my garb, I fear, betray the rustic. Your pardon, pray. This is my trusty friend, And fellow-sportsman, Melon. Melon. Proud to hunt Such game with such a huntsman. Clymene. Gentlemen — You are most welcome. — Be your horses swift, — Your boar-spears sharp and strong ! — \Exit. Pelop. (to Epam.). Sir, you have friends In Athens, as I hear. We now come thence, And may have tidings, did we know their names. Epam. I thank you, sir. I've many dear friends there, 'Twould glad me much to hear of. Know you aught Of young Pelopidas ? Pelop. He's lately dead. Epam. Dead? — dead? — (A pause?) Why, thou tormenting wag ! — what madness now ? Pelop. (embracing him). Madness of joy, to clasp thee once again, Dear — dear Epaminondas ! Epam. Dear Pelopidas ! I wish thee here, — yet hence. — What ! some new wrestler PELOPIDAS. 95 To be tripp'd up at venture of thy head ? Or what strange folly else ? — Pelop. Oh no ! The game Is for a higher stake : — with greater players. Come this way. — I must have thine ear awhile. (They go to the back of the stage.) (Enter Gorgidas — Phkrenicus — Theopompus — Democlides — and Cephisidorus, in the garb of hunters.) Charon. Welcome, my friends ! — right welcome, every one ! (They embrace.) All. We thank you, noble Charon. Gorgidas. Oh, this Thebes ! How changed is her aspect ! — She seems dull And lonely, and grief-worn, — like some poor widow Above'her husband's grave. Charon. We have a cordial Shall make her laugh anon. — Oh ! — from the dead (Enter Androclides) Given back, — dear Androclides, — welcome, — welcome ! (They embrace?) Andro. Dear Charon, thank you. Know'st thou of my wife? Charon. She lives — she lives ; — and lives in hope again, For she has heard thou livest. Philidas This morning saw her. Till to-morrow night, Dear friend, forget her ; — or but think of her To make thy sword the keener. Andro. Speed thee, sun ! Leap over this long night to the new day : — Then flog thy fiery horses through the sky— And leave glad night again ! — I pass'd his house ; The monster's house ! — Oh ! Charon — had I met That hated form — thy namesake at the Styx Had greeted him erenow. Foul, bloody villain ! 96 PELOPIDAS. {Enter Philidas.) Phiudas. Friends, — all of you well met. — Welcome to Thebes ! {They embrace!) Several together. Thanks, Philidas. Philidas. Ha ! dear Androclides — Think of to-morrow night Andro. Nay, Philidas, — Tell me not so : I think of nothing else. Philidas. Charon, a word with you. (They retire) Epam. {coming forward with Pelop.) Then be it so ! With hand and heart I join in your emprise : Freely, — though much unwilling : hating war, — Yet, for the smaller evil, choosing it ; — To choose compell'd : — as, of two horrid deaths, I'd take the quicker and less terrible, — Approving neither. — Yet, forget not this ; — I join no faction 'gainst its opposite : — I make no private feud of man 'gainst man : — 'Tis 'gainst th' oppressor, and the murderer, I league with the oppressed. — Beyond this I go not with you. Pelop. Nor shall we go first. The three must die ; and there the sword shall stop Epam. If you can stop it— 'Tis a furious hound That, once broke loose, is hardly whistled back 'Till he have fill'd his maw. — If they must die, — Why, be it so ! I cannot give my hand To any private slaughter ;— but my voice Shall not be raised too harshly to denounce A crime forced on by fate. Pelop. We ask no more. Give us your voice — and we've a thousand arms Ready for any danger. — For y^ur sword, Why — spare it if you will : — but time hath been That, sparing it, you had not spared your friend. PELOPIDAS. 97 Epam. Spare your friend now. But we've no time for words. What is to do, — must speedily be done. Against the hour I'll bring what aid I can, And may the good Gods guide us ! Pelop. Here are some You have not seen. Epam. Ha ! my beloved friends ! Give me your hands : our hearts are join'd already. {They embrace.) Dear Androclides ! — coming from the grave, Thou'rt so most welcome, — 'twere almost a sin Not to have sent thee there ! Andro. I think so too. And do intend my thanks to the kind sender. Epam. Well, gentlemen ; — I pray Heaven prosper you, As you deserve to prosper ; but not more. With a pure heart, unto this enterprise I bring my aid ; — and so I hope do all. Several. All — all ! Epam. If, for revenge, or wantonness, One drop of blood be shed, — your cause is foul'd, — And freedom's champions will be faction's slaves ! With this I leave you. So farewell to all. \Exit. All. Farewell, Epaminondas. Charon. Come, gentlemen : the board is spread : the meats Send up rich incense : let's away — Pelop. Stay, Charon ! A dinner waiting is a serious thing — So is our plot. Briefly, before we go, Let's hear once more the order of the act, That all may understand. — Speak, Philidas. Charon. But who will listen ? — When a dinner beckons, Who stops to hug a speech ? Philidas. Tis even so : — The brain's small whisper is but little heard, 7 98 PELOPIDAS. When empty stomachs shout. Go in, go in. I'll see you on the morrow. Pelop. As you please. Give me one word before you go. {They whisper.) Charon. Come, sirs, No ceremony : — your hot compliments Will make your dinner cold. [Exeunt all but Pelop. and Philidas. Philidas. You need not fear. Charon knows every signal. — When they come, I shall withdraw — throw wide the prison gates — For there's no key but turns at my command — Arm our good friends, — and to the market-place Bring them to wait your bidding. If your dragon Escape you not, — fear nothing for our wolves. He goes to rest betimes, — and will not stir When he is in his den. Pelop. And shall not stir, When I have found him there ; fear not for him. Good-night. Philidas. Good-night, Pelopidas. [Exeunt at opposite doors. End of the Fourth Act. ACT V. Scene I. — A room in the house of Leontidas. (Enter Leontidas ; and a Boy carrying lights?) Leon. Here, — bear these things into my chamber, boy : Place them beside the door : then come again. Art sure 'tis Philidas that gives this feast ? Dost know his house ? — or who hath told thee so ? Boy. Oh yes, my lord ; I know the house well. My brother lives with Philidas ; and, several days back, he told me of this PELOPIDAS. 99 feast being toward : — and, but now, in passing, I saw great lights there, and heard music and rejoicing. Leon. Go now, and come again. [Exit Boy. What fopperies Are these for men on whom a state depends ! How c?n the brain that every night is steep'd In wine, — and whipp'd to froth by the smart lash Of hare-brain'd witlings, — be fit counsellor Where great state interests plead ! — This Philidas Grows hateful to me, — thrusting his soft pity Between the traitor, and the threaten'd blow : — He shall be crush'd erelong. — Turn'd reveller too ! And rich, — 'tis said. Whence come his funds ? And Philip Hath lost at play thrice his paternal wealth, — And yet hath princely means. — So Archias hath : Yet his rare wines, — his ceaseless revellings — His Tyrian-vested concubines — his jewels — His gorgeous tapestries, — his gilded halls — ■ Great Jove ! — why 'tis a monarch's state he keeps ! And still he's rich ! Oh ! I do much suspect The iron sword of justice hath glanc'd off — Touching on golden armour ! (Enter the Boy.) Take these next : — Dost know what other guests are there to-night ? Boy. I have not heard their names, my lord. Some dozen nobles of the city : — and also some ladies of marvellous beauty, later in the evening, are expected. Leon. Women — didst say ? What ! — women at the feast ? Boy. Yes, my lord. Leon. Here, — take away the rest. Then get thee gone. Lie like a watchful cat before his door ; — And, when these women enter, bring me word. I will reward thee. (Exit Boy.) What ! all decency Laugh'd in the face ! — What would the Spartan say, To hear of women where the Archons feast ? 7—2 ioo PELOPIDAS. Oh heavens ! 'tis monstrous ! Is it fit such men Should fill with me the awful justice seat ? — What do I need of them ? — Let them heed well, Or I will shake them to the dust ! — Great Jove ! — But they shall blush, — for, at their folly's height I'll stand before them, and rebuke them all. {Exit. Scene II. — A hall in the house of Charon. Arms and armour are strewed about the floor. (Pelopidas— Androclides — Gorgidas — Theopompus — Melon — Cephisidorus — and Democlides are busied putting on their armour. Charon and Clymene are assisting.) Pelop. This breast-plate is too small. Melon. Try this. Charon. Here's one Might clip a giant in. But use good haste : The signal is put up that all goes well, And we must hold us ready. — Will that fit ? Pelop. Somewhat too wide : — but 'tis the better fault. Andro. Thank you, dear lady. Clymene. Wherefore do you shake ? Andro. Oh ! ask me not : I have no tongue to-night. My soul seems coiled up for one desperate spiing, And likes no motion else. If I do shake, 'Tis as some burning mountain, when the fires Are gathering for a burst. — Thanks, lady— thanks. Pelop. And this, you say, the sword Ismenias wore. — Charon. The same. Pelop. 'Tis a rare blade, — and fits my hand. He still shall wear it, — for his deadliest foe This night shall be its sheath. {A loud knocking at the outward gate.) Cephisi. What noise is that ? [They pause, and look toward the door.) PELOPIDAS. 101 Clymene. Fear nothing, gentlemen : 'tis but some gossip Who comes to tell me of her morning's head-ache : — Or that her daughter lost a tooth last night — Or that her lap-dog's ailing. (Enter Pherenicus in haste. He stands silent.) Pelop. What's amiss ? Why dost not speak ? Pheren. I fear we are undone ! Pelop. Then tell us how. — We have our armour on, And will do something. Pheren. Here's a messenger, Puffing with hot haste — sent from the Polemarchs, With stern demand that Charon instantly Do go before them. (A pause. They look anxiously at one another.) Pelop. Does he say the business ? Pheren. No — and I ask'd him not, — for he look'd strange. Charon. Bid him return, and I will follow him. Pheren. His order is, he says, most peremptory Not to return without you. (A pause). Pelop. Charon, go — If we're discover'd — dash the signal-light, As you pass by it, to the ground. — We're arm'd, And, seeing that, will forth at once, — and do What fate will let us. Gorgidas. But he may be seiz'd — Tortur'd — or threaten'd with an instant death If he reveal not : — what awaits us then ? I would not have him go at all. — Send word That he is ill, and in his bed. Charon. No — no — Then would they seek me here, — and that were worse. Suspicion often is a coward cur That, fairly met — turns tail and slinks away : — But — run from— may become a furious beast, 102 PELOPIDAS. And worry you to death. I'll go at once. The business may be foreign to our fear ; — But, should the worst be true, — my voice in this Is with Pelopidas, — that, on the instant, Ere they are well awak'd, ye sally forth, And strike the tyrants down.- — Behold this glass — ( Taking up an hour-glass) I turn it now. — If, half its sands run out, I come not back, — delay no moment more : — Unsheathe your swords, and get about your work. If I return there needs no signal else. — Hath this your sanctions ? — Pelop. I am well content. Andro. And I. Melon. And I. Pelop. Why are you silent, sirs ? (The others whisper. Exit Clymene.) Theopompus. It is not, Charon, that we aught misdoubt Your perfect truth, and zeal Charon. Go on, sir, pray. Gorgidas. We all esteem you, sir, most honorable. Several Voices. All — all — Cephis. And shall be ever bound to you, As a most noble gentleman. Charon. Well, sirs — I see what scares you. Should they threaten death, Or show the torture, — I'm too soft a plant To live in such a tempest, — that's your thought. (A pause.) I blame you not ; — for 'tis well known to all That I'm no soldier ; — never saw a battle : — And 'tis, too oft, the noise and strut of war That goes for bravery : — but I have known As firm a heart in a soft woman's breast As ever heav'd up mail. — Come to the proof — He that misdoubts me t — let him thrust his hand PELOPIDAS. 103 Into this fire with me, — and, if I start, Or snatch away the first, then trust me not. Pelop. No — no — it shall not be — Several. We want no proof. (Enter Clymene hastily, with her little son in her arms.) Clymene. You doubt my Charon ! — here are hostages, Myself— and this far dearer — (puts down the child) When he's false, Let us not live. — You'll have your vengeance so, — And we shall 'scape our shame ! — Here — take him, sirs — Take both — and spare us not ! — Charon (embracing her). Belov'd Clymene ! — Here, gentlemen, — you have your hostages. Pelop. If there's that man in all this company So vile to take this gage — I cast him off — And hold him in my hatred ! Andro. There's no wretch, Even the worst in Thebes, would stoop to this ! All. We'll have no hostages. Several (together and in succession). Dear Charon, go. — Theopompus. Charon, forgive me if I knew you not. Charon. Then, sirs, I have your confidence again ? — All. For ever, Charon ! Charon. For these hostages, They shall remain with you. Pelop. No, Charon, no ! Do not degrade us. I'd as soon take pawn For money lent to my most honor'd friend, As take your pledge in this. Andro. It shall not be — Remove them, rather, from all reach of harm : — So, if you perish, may your son yet live T'avenge his country's wrongs. Charon. I thank you— No ! Let us together live, or die. What fate 104 PELOPIDAS. More glorious could I wish him, than to fall In such a struggle, where his father falls, And such a band of friends. — My pretty boy ! Farewell — (embracing him) farewell ! Boy. Where are you going, father ? Charon. Not far, dear boy. I shall be back anon. Belov'd Clymene ! (embracing her) as the breath to life — So art thou to my soul ! The Gods protect thee ! (He kneels) Immortal Jove ! oh ! hear us now ! — Our foes Are tyrannous, and strong ; — and bow us down With misery to the earth ! — but let them fall By our just hands, — and send our country peace ! — Hear us — and give the sign ! (A loud burst of thunder.) All. Our prayer is heard ! The Gods are for us ! — Charon. Oh ! all ruling Jove Our hearts do thank thee ! (He rises.) Pelop. Charon — get thee hence — Or I cannot abide. Charon. Kind friends — adieu — Look to the hour-glass. Give one parting grasp — (He shakes hands with all.) Clymene ! — one fond kiss — My boy — ah ! rogue ! The spring will soon be here, and thou shalt ride. Now get thee to thy bed. Adieu — adieu ! [Exit. Pelop. Are we all arm'd ? Several Voices. Yes — all — Pelop. Let every sword Leap freely from the scabbard : — every dagger Be ready for the grasp. — Come, dear Clymene, — Thou hast a hero for thy lord. Be gay — All shall go well. — Come, where's our woman's gear? Time is a race-horse now, and near the goal. Show us the way. Clymene. Bear you the hour-glass, sir, — And warily — for every dropping sand PELOPIDAS. 105 May tell a brave man's life. — Come, gentlemen — ■ A woman fitly may lead warriors on, Who go to play the woman. Pelop. Lead the way. Bring Charon's armour :— he will need it soon. Gorgidas. I have it here, Pelopidas. [Exeunt omnes. Scene III. — A room adjoining the feasting-hall in the house of Philidas. {Two Servants in waiting enter on the same side.) ist Servt. They are coming now. I heard a knocking at the gate. 2nd Servt. No — 'tis not they. Our master said they were not expected till much later. ist Servt. Then will Archias be so drunk, he will never be able to look through his brimstone loopholes upon them. His eyelids will be as heavy as the city-gates ; and his strength to uplift them as if a child should try to shoulder away the citadel. 2ND Servt. Faith ! 'twixt him and Philip, there will not be the difference of a drachm's weight. In truth they are all rascally drunk already. (Enter Charon with the Messenger.) Charon. Go, tell the Archons I await their pleasure. [Exit a Servant. You're jovial here to-night. How's Philidas ? Servt. I thank you, sir — exceeding well. (Enter, from the feasting-hall, Philip, Archias, and Philidas, followed by the Servant.) Philidas (to the Servant). Go— get you hence, — and wait till you are called. [Exeunt Servants. Charon. Good-e'ven to you, lords ; — you find me prompt T'obey your summons. io6 PELOPIDAS. Philip(/