Book.. Gopyiiglit^i ^e.-s_ A Book of Plays By Witter Bynner / ij ^ NEW YORK ALFRED • A • KNOPF MCMXXII Tiger Copyright 1913 by Mitchell Kennerley: 1920 by Witter Bynner. The Little King Copyright 1914 by Mitchell Kennerley, 1920 by Witter Bynner. Iphigmla in Tauris Copyright 1915 by Mitchell Kennerley, 1920 by Witter Bynner. COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, Inc. v All rightt reserved under the International Copyright Act, Perfor- mances forbidden and right of performing any of these plays must be made to Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., ZZQ West Forty-Second Street, New York. MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ©C1A690933 ^ JAI\l-6?3 ' n-Vff Contents THE LITTLE KING, a play of the terror 7 A NIGHT WIND, a play of Greenwich VILLAGE 79 TIGER, a play of the tenderloin 103 CYCLE, A play of war 147 IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS, an English ver- sion from EURIPIDES 1 69 Note Tiger and The Little King and the Choruses from Iphigenia appeared originally in The Forum — and Cycle in The Stratford Maga- zine. The translation of Iphigenia was made for Isadora Duncan. The Little King To Homer and Carlota Saint- Gaudens and their Little Boy Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/bookofplaysOObynn Time: The morning of October i6, 17QS. Scene: In the Temple at Paris: a room in which is imprisoned Louis XVII, the Boy-King of France, under the tutelage of Antoine Sim,on and his wife, Jeanne Marie. Behind a large iron-barred door at the back is an anteroom from which one staircase de- scends to the courtyard and another ascends to a platform on the roof of the Temple. A closed door leads at the left into a bedroom. Near it stands an elaborate bird-cage in which a wooden canary moves when wound up and whistles " The March of the King." In the cage are also some live canaries, one of which has a red ribbon round its neck. A small barred window at the right overlooks the courtyard. Under it are a box of mortar and some squared stones, one or two of which have al- 7 8 The Little King ready been set into the window. Nearby is a table, a cupboard of dishes and on the floor a basket of soiled linen. At rise of the curtain, Jeanne Marie, with a dish in her hand, stands by a larger table where three people have just finished a light meal. She is a squat woman of fifty with thick features and a blotched face. While she clears the table, she talks with Barelle, appar- ently a middle-aged stonemason, who is mix- ing mortar with his trowel near the window. Jeanne \^As she carries soiled dishes into the ante- room^ What? — Block the door and shut out all the light? Barelle The window first and afterward both doors. A grating left there for his meals, but not An aperture for light or hope or mercy. Jeanne Ah, but the fools have chosen you to do The jobl Luck's with us, Citizen Barelle. The Little King Barelle You mean God's with us. God himself, not they, Selected me, — to be His instrument. Jeanne There's damnable divinity in gold. You be the God. I'll be the instrument. Barelle ^Removing from the window a cross-shaped iron bar^ O Father, prove Thy greatness to these people That have turned coward toward a little boy. Son of the King they killed I O Lord, reach down Thy hand to us ! For Jesus' sake, Thy Son, Give me Thy strength to save the Son of France I Jeanne [^Seizinff the iron har'\ Here's holy water for your crucifix. {She spits on it and throws it on the floor^ lo The Little King Barelle God pity you. — By noon I shall be back And I shall bring the boy. Does the King know ? Jeanne Leave that to me. You fetch the other King. And, please, the puppy-dog has learned his change Of name. Not King, not Louis any more ! Just call him Capet and he'll wag his tail With quite remarkable intelligence. Barelle How are you going to manage with Michel ? Jeanne Michel relieves the other guard at noon. As soon as he's alone he'll signal us. Barelle Your husband Jeanne I eave age; :anne Leave my husband to your God I Leave everything to God — except His Im- The Little King ii Soon as the coin comes round — leave that to me; And while we're talking — what about the coin? Barelle One payment now. The rest as we agreed. Jeanne God in three parts ! And one part now ! Come pay it I Barelle l^Taking from inside his blouse a hag of gold, which he hands to her^ And you at noon pay me my King! [Exit Barelle] Jeanne [To the bag of gold'\ Sweet God ! l^She kisses it, then hides it in her sewing- basket on the small table. Humming a snatch of the Marseillaise, she throws open the bed- room door and calls through it with her arms akimbo] 12 The Little King Capet, your eyes are red. Go scrub your face. Make it all red like a washerlady's son. The King [y^ boy of nine, his voice heard outside^ I am a Queen's son! Jeanne Times have changed, my dear. And Marie Antoinette has handkerchiefs To wash, she cries so much. Her nose now looks Like anyone's and gets as red as mine. The King It is not red. Jeanne Go make yours red, Capet! For you're to be a washerlady's son This very day. — Sh-h! Don't you tell An- toine ! {She hears him on his way upstairs singing a revolutionary chant. She quickly closes the The Little King 13 bedroom door and turns toward the ante- room where Antoine Simon enters. He is a big shoemaker of fifty-five, with straight black hair hanging long and a swarthy brut- ish face. He carries aloft two bottles of brandy^ Antoine I've brought two friends with me. Jeanne {^Seizing a corkscrew^ Off with their heads! Antoine Let go my friends! I bring 'em here like this And you — ^you murder 'em ! You used to be A stylish drinker, Jeanne Marie. But now You're an old soak. Jeanne Only a soak would talk Like that. I taste my glass the same as ever. It's you who booze like a lout and waste a lot On Capet, just to make the poor brat drunk. 14 The Little King Antoine You're keen to see him caper round, yourself. But you don't pay your share. You get two- thirds As much as me for staying in this hole And you never spend a sou. \^He sits and changes his boots for slippers^ Jeanne {^Carrying dishes from table to cupboard^ The nation takes Good care of you, husband, — also of me: Six thousand livres your share, four thou- sand mine. Antoine A patriotic cobbler and his wife Cooped up like marquises ! Jeanne You make me sick, Talking like that about ten thousand livres. You don't know what you want, you lucky fool. The Little King 15 Antoine Know what I want? I want to be let off From tutoring Capet. But let me off They won't. They've got me here. And here I stick And rot. It's bad for the brain, that's what it is. Capet's much luckier than we are, Jeanne, For he has us, he has, for company, But we have only him. {^The King, a handsome, gentle boy, appears at the bedroom door, Antoine hurls his boot at the Kingl Get out of here! {^The King looks calmly at them both, then returns into the bedroom. Jeanne Marie closes the door after him^ Jeanne [/« a superstitious whisper"} He looked at me as my boy Raymond did. He looked at me as my dead Raymond did. 1 6 The Little King Antoine Forget your Raymond! Capet isn't Ray- mond. Jeanne You're sore because he waked you up last night. Antoine With his damn prayers! I fixed him good. He'll not Be trying Trappist tricks on me again. Jeanne Yes, fixed him good and maybe fixed your- self. Doused him with water, let him lie between The icy sheets and shiver all night long! What if he's caught his death? Antoine What did they say When I asked 'em, the Committee, about Capet, The Little King 17 Whether they wanted me to poison him? They said, ' Well, don't you let him grow too much ! ' Wife dear, what did they mean? Jeanne They meant, ' Don't add A cubit to his stature, — cut him short, But not too short! ' They know their busi- ness best. Why do you suppose they send a mason here ? Antoine Barelle, you mean? Jeanne To seal that window up. Antoine Make bats of us? Jeanne No, not of us. Of him! They're going to block the door and lock him in. 1 8 The Little King Antoine And lock us out? Jeanne We'll feed him through a hole Cut here and talk to him an hour a day. Antoine On what? Jeanne On Liberty. Antoine Woman, he'll live For years. Jeanne O no, my dove, he's delicate. Antoine But I've a mind to do for him today And end this job. Jeanne You're good at jokes on death. The Little King 19 Our Lady Guillotine might yet arrange A joke on you. And, citizen, I fear You wouldn't laugh so well without your mouth. Antoine But I don't see who'd care about a Capet. Jeanne Because they had no use for Louis Capet? Because they say about the Austrian, " Why does she ask for cake, when there is dust To eat"? But people have soft hearts. They might Forgive the boy his dirty breed, Antoine. A child's a child, no matter from what stock. Besides France has her enemies abroad Who call the whelp a king. France has her game To play. And this one Louis — see? — this poor Thin undecipherable piece may be A lucky coin. I grasp it all so clearly. And I tell you, Antoine, clever as you are, 20 The Little King When the Council General sent the Simons here, They put their trust as a matter of fact — in me. Antoine You put your trust in your four thousand livres All right, but drink your brandy on my pay, On the six thousand which they give to me For being less important than my wife. Jeanne A child's head looks ridiculous on a pike. Antoine No, it looks neat. Jeanne Hey, Antoine, listen! Drums. Antoine Some one they've got to guillotine, I guess. Jeanne The roof, the platform ! Call if you can see ! The Little King 21 Antoine I'll bet you first it's Marie Antoinette. Jeanne An end of her? Not on your life, my dear! If it were women trying her, then yes. But this Tribunal? Men, Antoine? Not much! Antoine Justice decides and Justice is a female I Jeanne They'll feast for days upon those dainty eyes Before the garbage goes. If she's a beauty — I hope I'm not. Antoine You're not. Jeanne Trust her with men? She's got you, all of you, just where you're weak — She'd charm the hind leg off the Lamb o' God I 22 The Little King Antoine Bet me the brandy on it? — the cost of the brandy ? Jeanne Double the cost! It's not the Widow Capet. Antoine \^At the window^ I'll ask Michel. He'll know. He's just come on. Jeanne O husband, how I wish the Guillotine Was near, where we could watch, to cheer us up! In seven weeks I haven't seen one head. {^Antoine goes upstairs through the ante- room. Jeanne Marie rapidly takes a piece of soiled linen and wrapping her bag of money tightly so that it shall not jingle, lays the bundle aside on the little table. Then she enters the anteroom and calls to her hus- band^ Who wins, Antoine? The Little King 23 Antoine [^Outside'] I do! I win! Jeanne The Queen? Antoine I heard 'em shouting, " Death to Madam Veto!" At noon they'll split her like an angle worm ! Hustle him out. I've news for him. Jeanne No, no, Not yet — he's sick! And when his father croaked He wouldn't eat, was like to die himself. Go easy, Antoine, for he's off his feed. You don't know what might happen. This'U keep. You'll have the fun. I'll not sneak in ahead. Antoine The brandy, open it. No, pay me first ! 24 The Little King [He opens a bottle. She reluctantly -pays him, taking the money from her stocking^ I tell you what we'll do. We'll make him drink. And then we'll make him dance, dance to the bells, The bells that ring when they lift up her head! That's one on you, old girl I Now fetch the brat. We'll celebrate. Jeanne [Opening the door^ Capet ! Aristocrat I Antoine What are you doing? Eating up those pears You took from lunch so's not to eat with us? Come out here! Join your betters! Jeanne Careful now! [The King enters from the bedroom. He has in his hands two pears, which he lays on a chair. Jeanne Marie intercepts An- toine'\ The Little King 25 Come here, Capet, I want to tell you some- thing : A caller's coming — Citizen Barelle. The King You told me that. Antoine You like him, don't you? The King No. Antoine You do, you little liar. The King No, : [ don't. Antoine Why do you lie to me? The King I do not like him. 26 The Little King Jeanne Have you forgotten that he brought you these? You like your birds, you ought to like him too. The King [After a pause"] But if I did, they would not let him come. Antoine Your tutor, Simon, never goes away. They let him come. Jeanne You're fond of him, ain't you? Antoine Come, answer us! You love me, don't you? The King Yes. Antoine You little liar! The King Why do you ask me then? The Little King 27 Jeanne D'you like me, Capet? The King Where's my Mama-Queen? She isn't walking up there any more. I listen and I listen. Is she sick? Where have they taken her? Antoine Don't use that word! Jeanne Don't you say Queen! Your tutor doesn't like it. The King Where is she gone? Jeanne She's sick. The King I thought she was. O can't I go to her? Please can't I go To her? 28 The Little King Jeanne Not much I The King Then can't I send her these? O can't I? Can't I send her my canaries? Jeanne You haven't heard that Citizen Barelle Will bring Robert, the washerwoman's boy, To stay a little while and play with you? The King Master, let me send her my canaries? Antoine Sit down. We're going to celebrate. Three glasses ! \^Jeanne Marie brings the glasses'\ The King 1 do not care for one. Antoine Sit down, I say I Here's to the Guillotine I Pick up your glass. The Little King 29 [^The King draws back] Do you want it down your neck? The Guil- lotine ! And my good-luck ! Come on now. \^Antoine and Jeanne Marie drink, then he makes the King drink^ The King What good-luck? Jeanne [With a moment of pity] It's better luck than you would understand. Antoine I won a bet, young man. I won that wine. Jeanne And it's a happy day in the Republic ! The King If it's a really happy day, I'm glad. Antoine Then drink to France! — Our Lady Guillo- tine Drinks blood today to France ! 30 The Little King The King Who is it now? Jeanne {^Preventing Antoine from telling^ People you know who used to be at Court. Antoine There's no more Court. The King O dear, why do they kill Good people, — only good, kind people? Why? Antoine Dunno. They have a funny way with them. They'll take me next. The King They'll never take you, Master. Antoine Ain't you the little joker! Catch your ball! Why don't you hold your hands out, blun- derhead? Can't even learn to catch a ball ! We'll see The Little King 31 If you can sing. You know! Your favorite I \^He sings, Jeanne Marie joining him] Madam Veto thought she could Make all Paris run with blood; But it didn't come off, Thanks to a cough — (Dance, dance the Carmagnole!) Thanks to a cough — Of the cannon! Put spirit in it, Capet. Now! Pipe up! The King " Madam Veto thought she " O no, no I I cannot sing that song. Antoine Why not? The King Because You mean my Mother. And it isn't true. She hasn't done them any harm. She loves Her people. Mother does. Antoine She loves her wolves, 32 The Little King Her Austrians! Her people aren't the French. The King Her people are the French. She told me so. Antoine You going to sing? The King How can I sing it, Master? I cannot sing bad songs about my Mother. Antoine You sang it yesterday. The King Master, I didn't. Antoine Didn't he, Jeanne Mane? Jeanne Of course he did. The King I didn't. The Little King 33 Antoine Little fool, you don't know what You do. Get drunk. Here, get a jag again And sing ! You're jolly when you're drunk. To France! The King O no, no, no ! — not if I sang that song ! What if my Mother heard me sing that song? Antoine She's heard you sing it I Sure she has ! It's done Her good, shown her how well I keep my word: * He shall receive a royal education; We shall instruct him to forget the past And only to remember he's a child Of the one and indivisible Republic' You sing your song. You won't? Then take this drink. The young wolf shuts his teeth. See, Jeanne Marie, 34 The Little King What savage little teeth! He must be tamed. Where's there a knife to pry them open with ? We'll cure his pride. Now will you sing that song? Down on your knees I Learn this = Jeanne Let him alone. Antoine Obedience comes first in Simon's course. [^He forces the King to the floor] Open your mouth. Drink this. Well then, try this, Try this I Jeanne Antoine ! Give me that knife I \^She takes it from him] Antoine Get up. \^He roughly lifts the motionless King] Open your mouth and say you ask my pardon The Little King 35 And we'll postpone the music-lesson. What? Won't talk? [^Jeanne Marie turns toward the anteroom, where Barelle enters, followed by Robert^ who, looking like the King in height, color and feature, brings a basket of clean clothes and a bouquet of roses tied with the tricolor. They see Antoine about to strike the King with the cross-shaped iron barj Barelle You dog! Is that good tutelage? Jeanne For insolence it is ! Antoine The little snob, I couldn't make him drink the health of France I The King (Grasping the glass) You lie! — To France! [As he holds the brandy high and then drinks, the bells ring out^ 36 The Little King Jeanne The bells! Antoine She's dead! She's dead! The holiday! The Carmagnole! She's dead! The King What do you say? I'm dizzy. France is dead? Jeanne France that was crucified — has come to life ! Antoine The resurrection! Dance, my darling, dance ! l^They start singing the Marseillaise and take his hands^ The King No! — not to that tune! Wait and I will dance. [He breaks away and turns on the catch which sets the toy canary whistling^ The Little King 37 I'll dance to my tune, mine! — -The March of the King! {^Jeanne Marie turns of the catcK] Barelle {^Interposing between Antoine's anger and the King^ Go slowly, Citizen, to cure a King. The lilies flourished for a thousand years. Uprooting them takes time. Jeanne Well, — time takes root. Barelle How are your birds, Capet? Antoine They sing, but he? — He has the pip! Barelle [Crossing to work at the window^ I left an officer Behind me on the stairs whose legs were weak 38 The Little King With too much holiday. He's bound, he says, * To mourn the dead with Citizen Simon.' Jeanne [Handing Antoine the bottle and glasses^ Here 1 Comfort him I The platform's pleas- anter. [While Barelle jits a stone into the window, Jeanne Marie sees Antoine out and closes the heavy door after hint] The King [Politely to Jeanne Marie^ He doesn't understand about the window. You said that he was going to mend the window. Jeanne That's what he's doing. There were holes in it. Barelle Let's see which one is taller of you boys. [They measure hack to hacli] The Little King 39 Robert We're just the same. The King Why, yes, we're just the same. {^Receiving from Robert the hunch of roses'\ Thank you, Robert. Robert I thought you'd like them. Look I Look underneath the roses, — ^look at this I The King My flower, my flower! Barelle A lily for the King. \^The King kisses the lily and hides it again under the roses^ The King Sir, you've been kind to me both times you've come. Last time you brought me my canary-birds. I have not anything to give to you But these two pears which I have saved from lunch. 40 The Little King And, just because I am so poor, I beg That you will please me, sir, by taking one. And will you take the other one, Robert I Barelle I thank your Majesty. Jeanne Get up I Don't call Him that. It isn't done. You're right, they are As like as peas. Listen to me, Capet. Take off your things. Put on Robert's. The King What for? Jeanne [On guard near the hig door'] You're going to be Robert. Obey Barelle, Do everything he says. For, if you don't. They'll kick you, whip you and cut off your head. Barelle You'll come with me? The Little King 41 The King I'll go with you and do Just what you tell me to. But afterwards They'll punish me. Barelle You do not understand. We are your friends. We come to free you, Sire. The King My Mother too? — my Mother? Barelle Where you go, The Queen shall follow you. Be sure of that. The King Then take me to her! That will make me sure. Barelle Robert, your coat! [Robert takes of his coat and waits by the bedroom door'} 42 The Little King The King I think you are my friend. Jeanne [Showing and patting her bundle^ He's counted out the proof of it in cash. He's paid me money. Think of it, for you I — A little piece of rotten meat like you ! Barelle [To Jeanne Marie'\ You are the rotten meat I purchased I Jeanne Pooh! Don't wave your crest at me, old cockatoo ! The King You mean that you have had to pay for me ? Robert Come quick, for we must change our clothes, you know. The King [7*0 Robert, in the doorway^ Mother will look at me that funny way The Little King 43 And not know which to do, to laugh or cry, And not do either — ^but just look at me. Doesn't your mother look at you like that? Robert Come, little King, and change our clothes. The King Mine does. [^He follows Robert into the bedroom^ Barelle You'll watch the door? Jeanne [^Opening the big door a crack^ The platform-stairway creaks. I always hear him coming. Barelle [^Looking through the window^ What? — ^Two guards? Jeanne We'll have to wait till Michel's there alone, Before you start. [She sits and sews listening by the big door'\ 44 The Little King Barelle {^Setting another stone in place, watching^ I wish that you had told Antoine. Jeanne I'm no such fool. I know Antoine. He would have shilly-shallied half-a-year. Antoine's a coward. If I do the thing, Saving him all the pains and half the cash, He'll thank me when it's done. I know Antoine. Barelle He may come down. Jeanne Then let me manage him. Bottle him up again and think for him And act for him, — and put a sum away With which to make him love me by-and-by. Barelle How little you have learned from our mis- take! You care for him by caring for his money The Little King 45 As we took care of you by keeping yours. — There would have been no need of blood and tears, If only my poor friends had counted well And learned the deadly peril of too much And dared to be contented with enough. Jeanne Enough is not enough and never will be. I tell you, Citizen, there's no such thing As coin enough. Look at the two of us ! — You've had too much and you philosophize. I've had too little and I kick up hell. But those who have enough — lie in their graves. Too much, too little — life! Enough — the end. \^The boys enter, each in the other's clothes. The King has Robert's liberty cap in his handj The King I have on everything. But not the cap I Jeanne Put that on too. No matter where you go. 46 The Little King You'll never wear a crown In France again. Put that on too, my darling Citizen. \^The King still holds it in his hand/\ Barelle Run back again, if anyone should come, And change the jackets — that would do. Jeanne And then Come out again like you'd been playing ball. Here, Capet, take it, have it in your pocket. When Michel's by himself, Barelle, don't wait To talk. Just go. See, Capet, there's your load. I've lightened it, — so's not to strain your wings. {She sits and sews again by the big door. The King tries the weight of the basket, then lays it down and stands watching Rob- ert. Presently he takes Robert by the hand and leads him to the cage of canaries^ The King iSoftly^ I like the one you gave me best of all. The Little King 47 My toy canary sings ' The March of the King' And the one you gave me tries to copy him. \^They sit on the floor by the cage'\ I've tied a little ribbon on his neck To tell him by. — I think he knows me, Robert. He lets me take him out of the cage and talk To him. And he turns his head and looks. And once He sang to me sitting right on my finger. O how I wish my Mama-Queen could see him! They wouldn't let me send him up to her. She's sick and ought to have all sorts of things To comfort her. — Perhaps they'll let me send My flowers to her. Wouldn't you like to have me? To comfort her, Robert, instead of me, Because she's sick, you know? 48 The Little King Robert Yes, little King. The King I do not like to have you call me King. They might not let you play with me again. . . . And then besides it means my Father's dead. Robert The King is dead, — long live the Little King! The King The night he left he took me on his knee And held my hand and made me swear, Robert, That I'd forgive his people everything And not be harsh with them when I grow up. And don't you think that that was like Our Savior? Next day my Mother helped me pray for him; But when I tried to think of the good God, I couldn't think of anyone but Papa. Why did they kill him, Robert? I The Little King 49 Robert Mother says Because their hearts are bronze. The King I told my Father, The day I lost Moufflet, my dog, the day We came to the Temple and the men stuck out Their tongues and knocked the statue down and called My Mother names, I told my Father then How bad they were. But he said, ' No, they weren't.' He said that they would understand him some day And find that we were just like them and ask Our pardon for the way they treated us. You ought to have seen how Mama looked at him ! And then she kissed him. Then she kissed me, too And cried, Robert, because I think she knew Better than Papa what was happening. There's nobody so wonderful as Mama. 50 The Little King Why do they call her names and sing bad songs About her, when she's good? My Mother's good. She doesn't hate the people. Jeanne Shut your mouth, Capet, and pay attention! Watch Barellel Barelle He will not go, the man will never go ! — Hast Thou forgotten us? Jeanne Don't drag in God. Just wait and watch and, when the time comes, act. You'll learn some day there isn't any God. [They all wait a moment or two, silent^ The King {Whispering, close to Rohert'\ When I was little, Mama had her hair Away up high with a hundred waves in it. And on the waves were tiny ships, Robert ! The Little King 51 O it was wonderful! She waked me up To let me see it. — And I had a sword. Jeanne l^Jumping to her feet'\ He's coming ! Quick, the both of you, get in there ! [^The hoys run into the bedroom. Jeanne Marie shuts them in, then sits again and sews. Barelle works at the window^ Antoine \^Entering~\ We want another bottle of that brandy. Jeanne Here, take it. Drink it up. To hell with Queens I Antoine What's the son of the she-wolf doing, hey? [To Barelle] I'm not supposed to take my eye off him. You know. Even asleep, one eye must be Propped up and watching him. A pretty job ! Where is he? 52 The Little King Jeanne Here's your bottle. Antoine {^Brushing her aside and opening the door of the bedroom^ Come on out Of there ! {Stopping short, then turning savagely^ What's this, Barelle? Barelle What, Citizen? Antoine They're changing coats! — Barelle, what game is this? Jeanne If brandy makes a muddle in your brain Antoine Come out here, you two! {^The King enters, his coat in his hand^ Both of you ! \_Robert follows, cap on but carrying his coatj The Little King 53 By God! What is this game you're playing? Robert Citizen The King We're playing ball. Antoine Show me the ball. The King [Finding it in the pocket of his coat"] It's here. Antoine [Knocking it out of the Kind's hand'\ Ball in a room that hasn't any light ! What were you changing clothes for? — tell me that! The King We changed our jackets. He didn't want to, Master. I made him play a game of masquerade. 54 The Little King Antoine The hell you did ! IHe seizes the King by the throat^ Barelle Let him alone ! Hands off ! Antoine Not hands off ! Heads off ! And yours first, Barelle ! Jeanne Yours second, Antoine! Antoine Hold your dirty lip 1 You're in on it ! Jeanne You lose your head like this To-day, you'll lose it good to-morrow. Fool ! What do you mean to do? Antoine Accuse Barelle. Jeanne And me? The Little King 55 Antoine And you — and get ten thousand livres For taking care of Capet by myself I Jeanne Try it and see ! You send me to the scaffold, I'll just turn round and take you with me, dear. You broke the rules, left Capet with Ba- relle And kept the officer outside. Why that? — The reason was a hundred thousand livres! Antoine What's this? What hundred thousand? Jeanne \_Lifting her bundle from the table and letting it drop back clinking^ Use your ears. Barelle I've sixty thousand here in Paris, — ^yoursl This ringl The Prince of Conde's. Take him this, 56 The Little King He'll pay the rest. Now, sir! your life is more To you than mine to me. I've got you there. But you can save yours, mine,— and earn, besides. Another hundred thousand livres. Jeanne That is — Besides my hundred thousand? Barelle Yes. Jeanne Good God! Barelle Nobody ever comes who knows the King. Jeanne And I'll fall sick and we can get away. Barelle With all the cash you need for all your lives. The Little King 57 Jeanne Antoine, that means as much as ten whole years Of prison and the brat. Go on upstairs ! Antoine You should have let me in on this before. Jeanne Shut up with your ' before ' ! It's ' now.' Go on! That's all you've got to do. Go on up- stairs ! Antoine Well, I don't know. I guess I'd better do it. Jeanne Here I You're forgetting what you came to fetch. [^She hands him the second bottle of brandy^ Antoine [Brandishing it at Barellel I'd like to smash your head, you Royalist I 58 The Little King Barelle God knows, my hand would like- Jeanne Quit quarrelling. I'll see if Michel's there alone. — He is I Go! Gol Barelle Give me your jacket! Quick, Robert! Come ! and be careful, O be careful, Sire I The King \_Js they put him into Robert's coat~\ My little birds, good-bye. Good-bye, Robert. My Mother-Queen will bless you when I tell her. — O shall I see green trees again and sky Spread out? — O think of it — the sky spread out! Robert And lots of birds I Barelle Good-bye, Robert. The Little King 59 Robert Good-bye. Barelle You are a brave and darling boy, Robert. Robert Good-bye, good-bye. \_Barelle kisses him, then turns to the King'\ Barelle Be quiet now and follow. Be careful. The King I'll be careful. I know how. Robert Good-bye. Antoine shut your mouth I {With a sudden blow he knocks Robert to the floor^ The King {Standing stock stilt] 1 cannot go. 6o The Little King I had not thought of that. — I cannot go. You are too httle. Jeanne I '11 be here. I'll take His part. The King You can't, you can't, when Master — No I Antoine Go while the going's good. You're wasting time. \^An(oine lurches out and is heard calling^ I've found the brandy. Friend. She tried to hide it. The King O no, Robert 1 the people over there, If they should find me gone, would punish you And maybe kill you. Robert \^Risi?iff^ But they won't find out. The Little King 6i I'll turn my head away and I won't talk To them. The King He'll make you talk. He'll make you sing. And when he has you here alone, Rob- ert ! I had not thought of that. I cannot go. Barelle They'll soon find out who Robert is Jeanne What's this? Barelle They'll think that he was used against his will, Without his knowing, — and they'll let him go. The King Once you are here, they never let you go. O no, Robert, give me my coat, take yours I [He slips of Robert's coati 62 The Little King Jeanne You little chump, keep on that coat I Behave Yourself ! You're stubborn as your mother. The King Ami? Robert Please, little King, please, please I Barelle Your Majesty I The King [Resisting Barelle' s attempts to put the coat back on him^ I will not go. You cannot make me go. Robert could never stand it as I can. A King can stand — O more than anyone I Jeanne Here, hold him. Citizen. Bring him your cap, Robert. Come now, Capet, behave your- self I The Little King 63 The King {^Still resisting the coat, and throwing the cap down^ And then, besides, I've thought of some- thing else. You might save me and not my Mother- Queen. She might be left here all alone upstairs. Jeanne She's not upstairs, you little whining fool. They should have killed you too and saved us trouble. You with your mother, the whelp with the she-wolf ! Barelle O shame 1 The King My Mother-Queen? Jeanne To-day at noon. You heard the bells, Capet, and drank her health ! 64 The Little King Barelle Great God! Robert {^Taking the other hoy's hand^ Poor little King! The King It is not true. You wish to make me go. It is not true. If it were true, you would have told me then. I will not go and leave my Mother-Queen. I will not go. Jeanne Tell him it's true and get Him out of here. We haven't time to fool Away like this. Barelle [Tenderly, gravely"} Your Majesty, it's true. The King My Mama-Queen? The Little King 65 Barelle Is with your father, Sire. She died to-day, as brave as she had lived. They would not let her say good-bye to you. Robert Poor little King I The King [PFith a sob] She isn't dead! no, no, She isn't dead. My Mama isn't dead. Barelle Be brave, your Majesty, as she was brave. A man on horseback told me what she said. She said : ' I was a Queen and you de- throned me. I was a wife and you have killed my husband. I was a mother and you tear my children Away from me. Only my blood is left. Make haste to shed it. And be satisfied.' The King O she was brave, my Mother, wasn't she ! I'm going to be like Mother. 66 The Little King Robert Little King! Barelle Then, don't you see, you owe it to your kingdom And to her memory to come with me? That will be brave, your Majesty. Jeanne Go on, Flatter him up I Perhaps he'll take to that. I never saw such people as these Capets. Barelle And you shall have your sword again and come Some day to punish murderers. The King O sir, I promised both my Father and my Mother Never to hurt the people. But I'm not Afraid of them. My Father said to me He could not run away from them and be A coward. That was why we all came back. The Little King 67 And I should be ashamed to run away And not be like my Father and my Mother. Jeanne Shut up his talk I Get busy while there's time! Take him ! [Barelle and Jeanne Marie try a^gain to force Robert's jacket on the King, who strug- gles against them} The King No, you shall not. Barelle l^Passionately"} Your Majesty I l^They lead him into the anteroom, the King contesting every inch of the way} Barelle For God's sake I Jeanne Little fool I The King I will not go. The Little King Barelle If you betray us, it will be the end. The King won't you please obey me? Won't you please? — \^He breaks away. Barelle follows and lays hold of him again. But, with a sudden royal gesture, he checks Barelle in the centre of the room^ 1 am the King of France. Obey me, sir, And take your hands away. Barelle God's will be done. Jeanne [ Trying to pass Barelle"] God's nothing! It's the antic of a child! \_Barelle holds Jeanne Marie hack while the King helps Robert into the washerboy's coat^ The King But O be sure, be sure you come again I The Simons will not dare to tell on you, The Little King 69 For I should tell on them. Take all the clothes ! \^Picktng up Jeanne Marie's bundle from the table'l Take these as well, Robert. And look in- side And you will find a keepsake there from me. Jeanne Not on your life I The King You wish me then to tell? [Jeanne Marie stands hack glowering while he gives Robert the bundle. Then he takes the lily from his bouquet and hands it to Barelle~\ This hly is much better than the pear. Barelle I ask you, Sire, to let her keep the money. She would be kinder. The King Take them all, Robert. [Barelle bows and hides the lily in his breast^ 70 The Little King Jeanne You little cur — you devil out of hell! \^H earing the stairs creak^ The officer! [Barelle crosses to the window and seals the next to the last opening^ Antoine \_Entering, at the big door, heavy with brandy, his finger on his lips^ He's on his way downstairs. Barelle It does not matter now. My work is done. Antoine {^Looking closely at Robert^ Your work is done, you say? What do you mean? Barelle All but one stone. Antoine One stone? The Little King 71 The King Good-bye, my friends. \^Barelle kneels and kisses the King's hand. The King will not let Robert kneel, but puts an arm about him and kisses him on the lips. Robert goes out with the basket at the big door^ Barelle Surely you cannot punish him for this I What has he done but shown that tyranny May go by any name and wear red caps, — While loving comradeship may dwell in kings ! — Father, forget not he's a little boy 1 {^Jeanne Marie hurries Barelle out and closes the door after him^ Jeanne He wouldn't go. Antoine You rotten little snake I Jeanne He gave the money back. He said he'd tell. 72 The Little King The King You cannot buy and sell the King of France. Antoine But we can make him pay! \_He goes to the cage of canaries and starts to bring a chair down over it^ The King [/« the way~\ What are you doing? Antoine I'm smashing up your royal bird that pipes * The March of the King. ' The King But not the other birds I O not the one ! Antoine Which one? The King — that sings to us I The little one! The ribbon's on his neck! The Little King 73 Antoine So that's your toy! — ^your kingdom in a cage I And orders, marks I We'll see! The King The ribbon's red!— He's my republican canary, Master! Antoine Favorite of the King, come out here, you! \^He thrusts his hand into the cage and takes out the bird^ The King O give him, give him to me ! Antoine There he is. \^He wrings the bird's neck and throws its dead body on the floor^ The King {^Kneeling and taking the bird up tenderly^ O listen to me, please, dear Heavenly Father ! 74 The Little King Jeanne Don't mention God again! — ^There is no God. The King — Help me to be as brave as Mother was. Antoine Get up. Give that to me. Here, Jeanne Marie, \_Taking the bird from the King, he tosses it to her^ Cook it for supper. {^He jerks the King to his feet and points to the red cap on the floor^ Now pick up that cap! Jeanne And put it on again! \^The King faces them, not moving^ Antoine You dirty pup! Jeanne You put that on! — or else we'll punish you The LiTTtE King 75 Worse than you've ever dreamed. The window's sealed, Capet. And now we'll seal this door, and this, And cut a little hole here in the middle. And then hand in your food to you and leave you. Alone in the dark, all day, all night, forever. You've heard the rats here in the walls? They'll all Come out, when you can't see them, and they'll eat Your food. And then they'll eat your fin- gers, Capet. And bugs and worms and snakes will come and wait For you to go to sleep. — Pick up that cap. Antoine Pick up that cap. l^The King moves toward it and quietly stands on it, facing them. Antoine crosses and sets the last stone in the window, darken- ing the stage so that only shadows are seen^ Jeanne {^Pointing, trying to laugh^ 76 The Little King Behold the little King! \_Then they open the big door and close it behind them, and leave him standing in the darkness~\ CURTAIN A Night Wind To Edna St. Vincent Millay [Heard coming up the dark stairs, and pausing in the door at the hack, a young Poet enters The Pyramid, a dingy huddled half-lighted cofee-room in Greenwich Vil- lage. At the left, from behind a screen, which partly hides a stove and shelves cluttered with pots and pans, appears ear- ringed Egypt, draped in a brightly em- broidered shawl, an Alexandrian with deep quick eyes. She stands against the screen and nods to the poet, who crosses and sits near her on a bench beside one of the long low rough tables of smoky wood. He gazes at her, silent^ Egypt. [In a warm husky voice"] Why do you look? 79 8o A Night-Wind The Poet. Your eyes. Egypt. What do you find? The Poet. You have had secrets, Egypt. Egypt. So have you. The Poet. But I tell all mine. Egypt. O, what a foolish poet! You should almost tell them. People listen then, Hoping to hear the secret. If I told, Would anybody listen any more? Secrets are what they buy here with their coffee. Shadows of secrets. After all, my friend. Secrets themselves are not mysterious, Only their shadows. A Night-Wind 8i The Poet. Such as death, for instance. Death makes of life a secret worth the solving. Perhaps if we could solve it, see beyond, Life would be something to avoid at once. Pm a philosopher, Egypt. But Pm human. I want the thing I know I shouldn't want. You're much more wonderful, just as you are. Than if the desert-cat explained herself. But I want to see one of the shadows move, A falling fragment of the pyramid. Egypt. Life is the pyramid, with death inside. The Poet. Let's have a bit of the surface then. Come on! One of your secrets, Egypt, one of your loves. And I'll have some coffee too and a couple of cakes. 82 A Night-Wind Egypt. Which cake? The Poet. The dark one with the honey in it. Egypt. And the secret with the honey in it? The Poet. Yes. Abdul, for instance. Egypt. ISmilin^ and crossing for the coffee'] Abdul is no secret. Abdul's the evening paper — of last year. I read him, though. The news is never new. The Poet. Never? Egypt. Well, almost never. Once, just once. Only one secret. A Night- Wind 83 The Poet. Who was yours? \_Egypt returns with the cofee and cakes and, as she sets them down, whispers in his ear'\ The Poet. Not really? I haven't seen him round here for some time. Where has he been? Egypt. The Poet. The coast — with Muriel. Oh? Egypt. But he's back. The Poet. And she? Egypt. She's back. Richer than ever. 84 A Night-Wind Her mother died. And Muriel gave a party, Everything gray and green and lavender To go with absinthe from the family-cellar. [^Handing him a clipping which she unpins from the wall] The San Francisco paper told about it. He arrived in town this morning. He'll be round. He'll come to The Pyramid and drink his coffee And never speak. The Poet. And she? Egypt. She used to come — With her furs. Not any more, I don't know why. Perhaps I do. I hope to God I do. The Poet. Does Abdul know ? A Night-Wind 85 Egypt. He knows as much as I know. I tell him everything I have to tell. I take off all my shadows. He's a bathtub. I bathe in him. The Poet. And in the other one? Egypt. In him, you mean? The Poet. Your secret. Egypt. Don't you laugh. I used to swim. \^A Girl enters, with bobbed hair and a surface hardness, handsome tall and strong, yet haggard and nervous^ The Girl. Give me some coffee, Egypt. 86 A Night-Wind Egypt. You left your flask at home? The Girl. I got to quit. The Poet. What's up ? The Girl. I got to sleep. The Poet. On coffee? The Girl. Sure. Coffee's my good-night kiss. And here's my dreams. \^Takin0 out of her smock a phial of tab- lets and pouring some of them out on the tableJi The doctor gave 'em to me. One of 'em, Not more than one, he said. But, Lord, I guess I must 'a' got a pickled heart ! A Night-Wind 87 Four do the job for me. I tried first one, Then two, then three. But four's my num- ber, kid. I slept last night. \_A Fellow comes into the room, with a heavy, surly magnetism'] What do you know! He's back! You never answered my letter, did you ! The Fellow. No. [Egypt takes a hesitant step toward him. He nods to her and to the poet. She crosses to the stove and returns with two cups of coffee, which she places on the table. He starts again toward the door] Egypt. You're leaving? The Fellow. Telephone. The Girl. To Muriel? 88 A Night-Wind The Fellow. Yes. The Girl. You got a date? The Fellow. I have. In half an hour. [He goes out. Egypt returns to the stove'\ The Girl. I thought they were out west. The Poet. [Handing her the clipping from the table"] They were. The Girl. [Reading] Some baby! Has to keep going, doesn't she ! The Poet. Good-looking, A Night-Wind 89 Knows what she wants and takes it too, that's all. The Girl. She knows what other people want, that's all- Takes it away from 'em for fun, that's all, Buys it whether she wants it or not, that's all— To spite 'em, that's her way. I'll fix her party, I'll give him one o' these and make him sleepy. The Poet. That's not a bad idea. The Girl. You're right, it Isn't. Here goes for mine. [She drops four tablets into her cofee'\ Egypt. [From the screen] Doesn't it spoil the taste? 90 A Night-Wind The Girl. No taste at all. Egypt. To the coffee? The Girl. To the stuff. \_Egypt goes behind the screen again'\ The Girl. [^Continuing to the paet~\ And as for him, he's worse'n Muriel is, — • A great big husky, playing off he's sick, Pretending that his heart is on the bum, Making us mother him, us damn fool women. Why is it women like to be damn fools? Got to have something. Guess I'll buy a dog— And no more soul-stuff ! The Poet. So he talks. A Night-Wind 91 The Girl. You bet He's glum enough, with other people round — But when he's alone with a girl, he talks his head off. The line o' soul-stuff he can pull, my God ! Give me an animal that knows he's one. l^She drinks her coffee, while the poet crosses to the screen and, with his hand on its tap, speaks beyond it. Egypt's face is visible over the screen^ The Poet. There's a night-wind on the desert. Some- thing moves — A fragment falling from the pyramid, The shadow of a secret. Egypt. Let it fall. [They do not notice the girl slipping four of her tablets into the fellow's cup'\ The Poet. Two shadows, Egypt. 92 A Night-Wind Egypt. Yes? The Poet. One secret, Egypt. Egypt. You poets know too much. [^She comes to the table with her own coffee} The Poet. We know too much — Yes, about everything except ourselves. [The fellow comes back again. Egypt in- dicates his cup. He sits with head and shoulders forward, his hat shading his face. They all drink their coffee, except Egypt, who watches him'\ The Poet. How soon does it make you sleepy? The Girl. Right away, With four of 'em. The Poet. A Night-Wind 93 What about his? The Girl. No go. Let 'em alone. It's a free world, I say. Each to his taste, however bad it is ! l^Risinff dully'\ Good-night. It's me for bed. The Poet. Sleep well. The Girl. You bet. l^She goes out. The poet picks up the clipping again] The Poet. [To the fellow"] I see that you and Muriel made a hit In San Francisco with your absinthe party. A drink out there's like christening a ship, 94 A Night-Wind Breaking a bottle on the prow of the world. Didn't it strike you that way? The Fellow. No. The Poet. I'm sorry. I'll look in later, Egypt. [^Egypt nods and the poet leaves them. There is a pause~\ Egypt. Why do you come ? You always come like this. And you never speak. Do you care for Muriel ? For anyone? . . . I am going to tell you something. All this time I have let you come. You can't come any more. It's them or me. It can't be all of us. Here's what I've got to say. I've gone along, I've tried it out the way you told me to. A Night-Wind 95 No use, there's nothing in it. You're my man. But we got to be clean, we got to be straight with ourselves. We got to take each other or let go. You always think there's something round the corner. I used to think so too. But, after all, Soon as you're round the corner, it's the same — There's something round another corner, see? And here's the truth of it, here's the whole thing — There's something round the corner, looking back, Something that's just as good, the thing you had, Something that's better if you'll only take it And not be restless, not be on the hunt, Looking for something you can never find . . . Go out and ask the sky, all by yourself . . . If it's a home you had — honest-to-God Real home, I mean — you'd better turn around g6 A Night-Wind And choose the thing you know vou got. Speak up And tell me now. Do you want this home in here? [She presses both her hands to her heart'\ It's here. You can count on that, it's here. And mine — Is there — with you, old boy. [^She clasps his hand on the tahle'\ What makes your hand — ? What makes it cold! You're cold, you're icy cold I \His arms had supported his weight. As she picks up his two hands, his body falls forward. She lifts him up. His head topples back and his hat of, revealing a face dead-white and lifeless. After a moment, she is sure. She lets his shoul- ders rest again on the table, just as the girl enters breathless at the door.] The Girl. Has he drunk it? I was a fool! He mustn't drink it! A Night-Wind 97 All right for me, but I forgot his heart I I put 'em in his coffee, four of 'em. \_Knowinff by the look in Egypt's face^ I killed him, Egypt, but I didn't mean to ! Egypt. I wonder if he's thinking anything. The Girl. And Muriel waiting for him. Egypt. So was I. [The poet enters'} The Girl. He's dead. I killed him. The Poet. Not with the tablets ! The Girl. Yes. The Poet. [Appalled] It will be all right. 98 A Night-Wind Egypt. It will be all right for him. The Poet. '[Putting the fellovt/s cup into his own pocket^ It was his heart. I saw him. I was here. It was his heart. Egypt. Take her away, my friend. The Poet. What else can I do? Egypt. Call up the coroner. The Poet. I'll try to. But it's late — Egypt. I understand. They'll come here in the morning. That's all right. A Night-Wind 99 The Poet. But there's no one with you, Egypt. Egypt. Yes, there is. l^The poet leads out the dazed girl. Egypt closes the door behind them and locks it^ Egypt. [Re turning to him'] — Have you decided to come home, my dear? [She takes of her bright-colored shawl, covers the figure with it, then sits beside him] curtaush Tiger To Arthur Davison Ficke *Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?* Time: Evening. Scene: A room in a house not far east of Times Square. A curtained door at the hack of the stage leads into the hallway. A closed door at the right leads into an inner bedroom. The furniture and pictures are more showy than expensive. The shades are drawn. At the rise of the curtain, the keeper of the house sits in an easy-chair. She is a woman of thirty-five, handsome, well-dressed. Her familiars call her Tiger, on account of her hard, lithe brilliance. She is looking over a handful of bills and writing cheques with a fountain-pen on the arm of the chair. On a couch reclines Annabel, a girl of twenty-four, beginning to fade under her paint, but an effec- tive type still, with her hair parted and drawn simply over her forehead to a flat coil behind. 103 104 TiGEK She is in a loose, thin dressing-gown, reading a novel, eating chocolates and smoking cigar- ettes. An ash-tray, cigarettes, chewing-gum and the chocolates are on a chair beside the couch. At a table across the room, a man of thirty, with somewhat refined features, a sug- gestive pallor and flush, and a habit of biting the skin on his red lips and of rubbing his thumb over his finger-tips, is pouring himself a glass of straight gin. He is over-dressed, over-mannered and wears several bright rings, but might pass with the young for a gentleman. On account of what is known as his 'class' he has been dubbed The Baron. Annabel. Put water In it, Baron. Spare your liver. Baron. Mind your own liver and shut up, will you? Whenever I want your dope, I'll ask for it. [She returns to her reading. He gulps his drink, then loiters toward Tiger. Sud- denly he sits on the arm of her chair, catches her close and kisses her hard^ Tiger 105 Tiger. [Pushing him awayl Cut out that stuff, Baron. [Picking up her bills from the floor'] Come across first With what you promised. Baron. Oh, you needn't worry. Dear Mama Shylock. You're going to get your pound Of flesh, — I've said that you shall have her here To-night, She may be waiting for me now — [He looks at his wrist-watch] Less than a block away, ready to serve And honor and obey me. — Damn you, Tiger! I wonder if I love you more or hate you. Damn you, anyway ! Tiger. Oh, swear your head off! Go over it again, make up your mind One way and then the other! io6 Tiger [Looking up from her bills'] Kiss me, kid I [He kisses her hungrily. She stands up and throws him away from her] Now snarl at me, you cur. I don't know why I keep you round; except to purr and snarl Myself, — first kiss your feminine eyes because They look so lost in the world, then curse your breed, You most of all, because you're so unlike The brutes I'm tired of. [She crosses to lay bills and cheques in her desk] But what's the use Of bothering? You suit me. And you're good For the business. Run along and bring her here. [She sits at her desk and writes] Baron. Remember now. She's young, and I'm her first Tiger 107 Offence. And I've been careful with her, Tiger, Not touched her fingers only once or twice And used good English and been sym- pathetic. Tiger. Oh, yes, I know all that. Baron. \_Takingi a cigarette from AnnaheVs supplyl^ She's different though, She hasn't got the taste for it beforehand Most of them have. Tiger. {^Looking round as she seals a letter^ Then she's the very kind We want, old boy. The other kind is com- mon And some of our customers amuse them- selves. You know, by being fastidious. Is she a blonde? io8 Tiger Worse luck. Baron. Brunette. Tiger. Baron. No, you can fix that up. Light hair'd go fine with her dark eyes, good change. She's just the girl for it, solemn and slow And innocent. Poor kid, I pity her. Tiger. You act like you were getting stuck on her; Perhaps she'll keep you when you're tired of me. Baron. You've got me hypnotized. I don't get tired. Tiger. [She approaches him, seductively, mock- ingly'\ Be true to me, sweetheart I Tiger 109 Baron. To hell with you! [She lays her hand insidiously on his arm. At once he seizes and kisses her. She leads him to the hallway door, and opens it as he kisses her again, then she pushes him out with both hands and, closing the door, turns back to Annabel, who at every amorous passage between Tiger and the Baron has looked up from her book and watched with curious but accustomed in- terest'] Annabel. [Chewing gum] Gee, but I wish I had a man like that! Tiger. You'd have one, dear, if you were business- like. Annabel. [Shaking her head and marking her place in the book with a cigarette] I couldn't hold a man. They get so bored With me. And, after all, there isn't much no Tiger To say to one man. I'd be bored myself To have to think of new things all the time. Variety, Tiger, is the spice of life. Not in the spiel but in the spielers. Dear, Do you like my hair this way? One of th% boys Suggested that it makes me look too old. I think I'll put it back again. {She starts to uncoil it'\ Tiger. No, no! Leave it to me ! You'll be told quick enough When you look old. Let it alone. Annabel. Well, looks Ain't everything. I'm getting wise to the game. Say to a gink, 'Your nose is beautiful,' 'Your mouth was made to kiss,' or call his figure Mihtary. [^She examines herself critically in a hand- mirror which she takes from under a sofa- cushion~\ Tiger hi Tiger. There's just one kind of figure That makes a hit with me. A good full chest ! Annabel. Gee, ain't they handsome when they have green — backs ! [They laugh] I told a guy last night that it takes dough To make a tart. Dear, that's my own! Tiger. And say, Here's business, Annabel, take it from me! You've seen the belly on the dollar-sign? — Well, the man who has the stomach has the figure ! Annabel. I've noticed that. Tiger. Sure thing! And while he thinks 112 Tiger You're waiting for his phoney kisses — pay Attention to his stomach and his roll! Make him eat, drink and spend I My dear, the way To passion's thro' the stomach every time. Annabel. [Meditative'] Champagne, you mean? Tiger. Eve got there with an apple. But the apple has fermented some since then. Annabel. [Laughing with Tiger] We have a good time, don't we ! Tiger You do, dear. You've been here seven months and, Annabel, You never once in all that time have had A grouch. Tiger 113 Annabel. You're square with me, Tiger, that's why. Tiger. But, on the level, you don't like the life ? Annabel. Better than selling underwear to women And paying fines on four whole bucks a week! Talk as you please, the men have more respect For a girl that's a good looker and can earn A seat in a restaurant than for a dub Who stands up all day waiting on their wives. Tiger. Besides, you have as good a chance as me To save up coin enough before you're old And rent a house and get some girls to- gether — And after a while to live in a good hotel 114. Tiger And settle down respectable. — Perhaps A friend or two. But independent, Annabel. Chance ! Yes, I've got that. But, dear, I haven't got The brains to make a hit in any line. I know my limit and I'm satisfied. I'm better off than I ever was at home, And that's enough. The future can go hang. There's more than one way to prepare a corpse. Ain't I the cheerful guy? Tiger. You're lazy, dear, That's all the matter with you. Annabel. Who's the new girl? Tiger. Oh, I don't know. The Baron falls for me. So I can trust his taste. Annabel. Say, does he fall? He's jealous, now, of me! Tiger i i fj Tiger. Who's on the job Downstairs? Annabel. Cassie to-night. I'm tired. She knows The steps and laughs a lot, loosens 'em up. She's popular. Tiger. And she's the Baron's work, — He brought her here last winter. Cassie thinks The Baron the one bet and he, poor kid, Just keeps her on because I tell him to. And see how well the combination works ?— The happy family! Annabel. Business-like's the word! \^A knock is heard at the hallway door] Tiger. Quick there! Be business-like yourself for once ! Clear off those things I ii6 Tiger Annabel. All right. [While Annabel puts bottles and glasses under the table so that they are hidden by the table-cover, Tiger picks up the gum, cigarettes and ash-tray from the chair and tucks them all under a sofa-cushion. The knock is repeated^ Annabel. My fancy-work, Where is it? Tiger. [Taking a piece of embroidery from under a cushion'] Here. [She hands it to Annabel and crosses to the easy-chair] Annabel. [Sitting on the couch, with the embroid- ery, as though she had been sewing'] Now we're a boarding-hpyse I Tiger 117 Tiger. Throw me the book! lAnnabel throws Tiger the novel from the couch, Tiger holds it as though she had been reading'] Come in! l^The Baron enters, leading by the hand Margaret, a simple, romantic girl of sixteen. She is in street-clothes. She looks toward the two women bashfully, innocently, as they rise and come toward her] Baron. It's Margaret. This is Miss Dillingham, my aunt, and here's My Cousin Ann. Margaret. How do you do? Gene's told Me lots about you. I suppose you think I'm foolish running away like this? ii8 Tiger Why, no! Tiger. You loved each other, Margaret. Margaret. My aunt Was angry when he wanted to call. You see, She's not like you, Miss Dillingham; she's set And so old-fashioned. And she thought be- cause Gene works in a store he isn't good enough. She said I never should have talked with him At all. And then she didn't like his voice pn the telephone. ... I do, don't I, Eugene ! Baron. [His arm round her'\ I guess you do, darling. Margaret. You see, my aunt Has been with us for years and father takes Tiger 119 Her word as law. I knew what she would say About Eugene and how she'd make it sound. At first I thought he'd better go himself And see my father. Baron. But I told you, dear, He wouldn't fall for me. And give you up? I couldn't, could I ! Margaret. No. And so I thought And thought — and prayed. And finally I came. Tiger. And aren't you tired out? Let Annabel Show you your room. You ought to rest before Your marriage, dear. [Annabel opens the bedroom door. Mar- garet, vaguely troubled, does not follow herl 120 Margaret. Baron. To-morrow. Tiger We must be married now. Margaret. Baron. Oh, I thought to-night. But first I have to get a license and attend To things like that. And I can leave you here With Tige — Miss Dillingham. She'll take good care Of you. Margaret. [Doubtfully^ I'll do, Gene, as you say. Annabel. Is ready for you. Your room Tiger 121 Margaret. [Crossing to the Baron'] If I'd only waited And told my father! He might not have felt As Aunt Louisa felt. It seems so mean Of me to run away from him. But I left A little message on his dressing-case Saying that he would hear from me to- morrow. Tiger. You didn't write him anything about Eugene? — or where you Margaret. We thought best to wait, Not to say anything till we could go Together, to him, married, hand In hand, And make him like us both. Tiger. When will he find The note? 122 Tiger Margaret. To-night. Or — let me see, — what day — ? Why, it's Friday! Then he won't be home till Monday. I hadn't thought of that. He always goes To the country somewhere Sunday with his friends. Poor Aunt Louisa will be scared to death When I'm not back for dinner. Annabel. But the note. She'll find it. Baron. Sure, and send your father word. Margaret. She won't know where to reach him. Annabel. Then I'll go And 'phone your auntie that you're safe with me, — One of your friends. Who shall I say I am? Tiger 123 Margaret. Oh no, that would be worse. Tiger. That would be lying. You must be tired, Margaret. Margaret. Yes, I am. {With a smile'] You see, I never ran away before. Annabel. Didn't you bring ? Margaret. I didn't dare. I just Went out and walked like some one in a dream And took the train. My heart was beat- ing so, I thought that people would look round at me. Tiger. And did they? 124 Tiger Margaret. No. Tiger. That's right ! Come, Annabel, She's talked enough for now. Lend her something To wear to-night. Annabel. Sure will I. [As she goes up toward the hallway door, a knock is heard^ Who's there? [She opens the door slightly and takes from some one a cup of tea^ Thanks. Tiger. [Crossing and taking the cup from Annabel^ Oh, yes, we've made some nice, hot tea. [Exit Annabel^ Tiger 125 Margaret. For me? No, thanks. Tiger. Take it this once, it'll do you good. Margaret. [^Tasting it'\ Isn't it very strong? Tiger. There's medicine Margaret. I don't need medicine. Tiger. It's very little. Only to rest your nerves and make you sleep. Margaret. [To the Baron] I'll take it if you ask me. Baron. Take it, dear. That's right. All downl 126 Tiger Margaret. It burns. Baron. One swallow more ! [^Annabel returns with a nigh,t-dress\ Tiger. Leave her to Ann and me now till the morning. Baron. There. Thank you, sweetheart. {He takes the empty cup from her and hands it to Tiger, who lays it down'] Good-night, Margaret. [He holds her hand in both his] Margaret. Good-night, Eugene. [She shyly lifts her face to him. He kisses her'] Baron. Margaret. Tiger 127 To-morrow, darling! Yes. [^Margaret goes into the bedroom. Anna- bel, with a wink to the others, follows her, closing the door. The Baron turns from Margaret and looks at Tiger, who stands facing him with her arms down. She smiles and nods. He crosses to her, puts his arms round her, holds her now with assurance and kisses her. She re- sponds by kissing his eyes. The stage now darkens to indicate the lapse of time from Friday night to Sunday night. When it grows light again, a small table is beside the couch, with a chair or two round it, and with cards on it and poker-chips. The Baron sits on the couch idly throwing poker-dice. An- nabel, who has been as idly watching him, crosses to the closed door of the bed- room and leans with her ear to the crack of //] 128 Tiger Annabel. [Moving away again from the door] That little girl's more bother than she's worth. Baron. [Still throwing the dicel The stuff you gave her in that tea started The devil in her. Every finger-nail In action ! Tiger bawled me out for quitting. Poor little girl! I wish she wasn't caught. Damn it, I was a dog! Annabel. Well, you lap the hand That feeds you ! Baron. [Putting down the dice"] Shut up now! I can know myself And kick myself. But I won't let you do it 1 Annabel. Oh, well, who wants to kick a rotten egg? Tiger 129 Baron. [He jumps up and, catching her by the wrist, twists it'] I'll teach you Annabel. [^Catching him in the stomach with her kneel Will you? [Tiger enters from the hallway] Tiger. Stop making love, you two! [Crossing and listening at the door~\ How is she, quiet? Annabel. There hasn't been a squeak To-day. Baron. [Back at his dice] My God, she couldn't cry any more ! 130 Tiger [Tiffer turns round at his tone, crosses to him, lifts his chin with her fingers and looks into his eyes^ Tiger If you should dare to let her out, you fool! Baron. Who's going to let her out? I did the thing. And I know why. And you know why I did it! Tiger. [Walking away from him'\ I've paid you. Baron. lAmorous~\ Kiss me, Tige! Tiger. Let me alone I [Turning sharply'] Good God, you don't think I'm in this for fun I I'm in it for the future. And there'll be No Baron in my future. [5^^ walks away again] Tiger 131 Baron. IHe follows her and, grasping her shoulders, turns her to face him] Wait and see! You'll need me, Tiger, more than I'll need you. Tiger. [Looking at him shrewdly] You think so? Annabel, bring me her clothes. I guess I'll keep an eye on them myself. [Exit Annabel into the hall] Baron. There's mighty little you don't keep an eye on. Tiger. You nearly took up Cassie for your girl, And Cassie bores you. Baron. Some one's got To use their eyes for you. You don't use yours. 132 Tiger Baron. You're jealous, Tige. Insult me, kid, I love It! Tiger. It's business. Baron. Jealousy's a joke. You know me well enough to quit your bluff And quit me too, or else to give this girl The go-by. It's plain business. Do you get me? Annabel. [Returning with Margaret's clothes and hat] Where shall I put them. Tiger? Tiger. Leave them there For now. And put that over them. \_She indicates her own cloak. Annabel lays them on the couch] Baron. [^Cowed'j You're dippy. I wouldn't do a thing you didn't want. Tiger 133 Tiger. {^Crossing toward the bedroom] What time is it? I guess I'll try again. Baron. She hasn't had a bite of food — since when? Annabel. Not since she came. Baron. Lord, Tiger, give her something 1 Tiger. This is my business now. You've done your part. Get out of here I Baron. You bet I Tiger. Come back on Tuesday. These little cooings will be over then. 134 Tiger Baron. They're over now. I love you, Tige, you devil ! [He kisses her passionately')^ Tiger. [fFearily'] Good-night. [Exit the Baron] Annabel. You sure have got him going, Tiger. Tiger. I'm sick of him ! But I can't throw him down. The fool might shoot me or else go and blab. He's the only one I've cared for in ten years; And I knew, the night I met him, that I ought To look away and leave him be. It comes Of letting sentiment into your business. Annabel. I wonder if Pll ever fall in love. ( Tiger 135 Tiger. The only other man I ever loved Married me, and he used me like a dog. The time I wasted moping for that boy Would have set me up by now in Easy Street. I hung on fourteen months. He didn't hand Me coin enough for food — there were other girls More business-like who hadn't married him— Then he cussed me when I couldn't buy his friends Big eats at home. One of them helped me out The last two months. He liked me. And I ran Away with him, I learned a lot from him. A man's an easy mark unless you love him. I love that first one yet. [Crossing to the bedroom door and signi- fying Margaret with her head'\ She loves the Baron. [^Speaking through the door'] 136 Tiger Margaret? — When you choose you can have food. Just say the word and you'll have it — not before. You know what good your screams did yesterday ! — And you can cry till doomsday if you want, Nobody'll hear. Your father'll never come. And you won't kill yourself. I didn't, dear. Just say the word, I'll send you in Eugene — • Or some one else — and food! Annabel. [Improving her make-up. Pallor and red lips are effective with her black hair^ She may be dead. Tiger. Dead nothing ! I can hear her through the door. She'll come to terms. Hunger and time are good Persuaders. And she knows the Baron's waiting. He'll teach her first. Then nothing mat- ters much. Tiger 137 Ten or twelve hours more and she'll begin. She'll not be too unhappy, you know that, — Probably happier than she would have been With a cold husband and an empty life Selected for her by her Aunt Louisa. [There's a knock at the hallway door. Annabel goes to it'\ Tiger. Who is it? Annabel. Willie's here. Tiger. Well, let him m. Annabel. You think ? Tiger. It's safe enough. He's an old friend. He knows the game and plays it like a good one. In fact it's sports like Willie have to have The dainty morsels. [She moves Annabel out of the way and opens the door herself} 138 Tiger Come In. How are things? [Enter Willie, a patron, of later middle- age, a stout, prosperous-looking , pleasant gentleman^ Willie. I'm fine — but hungry, Tiger. Cassie said She'd send my supper here. I've been out- doors All day at Ardsley — golf — played well to-day. And by the way, we asked a girl out there — ^A decent girl, you know — to join a four- some; And what do you suppose she said, not meaning it At all, referring as she thought to one Of the sticks? 'I never play,' she said, 'don't know A thing about it, shouldn't even know Which end of the caddy to use.' [They all laugh] Good, isn't it! Wonderful figure when she tried a stroke. Tiger 139 And a lovely face, no paint, fresh lips, young, young! You ought to have that kind of girl. I'm tired Of all your girls ! I come here still because I like you, Tiger. \Looking round^ I'm tired of Annabel. Annabel. [With a deep bow^ Oh, thank you, Willie. Willie. — Cassie, all of them, The same old faces. Haven't you something new? Tiger. I'm tired, Willie, of that same old question. [A sudden sobbing is heard in the inner bedroom^ Willie. Listen ! [// dies away into a moan'] What was that. Tiger? 140 Tiger Tiger. l^Crossing and whispering in his ear with a smile'\ 'Something new I' Willie. What do you mean? A new one? In that room? Tiger. Come here now, dearie! — On your honor, sir. As a friend and gentleman — repeat it, please ! Willie. Well, Tiger, on my honor Tiger. If I put You wise to a professional master-stroke, You will not preach nor peach? Willie. I swear. Tiger. Willie, The 'something new' was brought here Tiger 141 Willie. Never mind The story; is she young? Tiger. Young as they come, And new to it, — in fact rebellious, dear, And fasting for her pains. Willie. I'll break her in ! Tiger. The Baron's a much better hand at It. Willie. Oh, come ! It's an adventure ! — let me try I She'll trust me, Tige, I look so fatherly. Tiger. No, no, — some other time. There's nothing in it. Willie. But, darling, an experience and different I Girls like me. Tiger. Come on, let me try 1 I'll make it worth your while. 142 Tiger Tiger. Well, you may have Your supper with her, if you want to pay Big money. Willie. Sure. I'm rich to-night. I won A case last week. And I am going to win Another case to-night, — you know, a case Of love at first sight. That's how I feel! Tiger. Go in. And don't believe the fiction that you'll hear. She's peevish now, that's all. You know these girls And their romances and their grievances. Help her forget them, Willie. \_She takes a key out of her pocket and puts it in the lock of the bedroom door, then turns before she opens the door'] Pommery? Willie. iNoddin^] And a tasty little supper for your Willie ! Tiger 143 Tiger. [Unlocking the door] Remember now, you're not to preach- WlLLIE. Nor peach. Tiger. Promise I Willie. I promise. Wish me good luck, Tiger! [She opens the door for him; he enters the bedroom. There is a pause, then, in- side the bedroom, a scream of mingled terror and joy from the girl, and a moan from the man] Margaret. [^Her voice is heard, heartrending] Father! Father, I knew you'd come! Father! Willie. [Reappearing and facing the women, livid] Give me her clothes ! Damn you, give me her clothes ! 144 Tiger l^Tiger stands motionless, petrified. Anna- bel crosses as in a nightmare and picks up Margaret s clothes from the couch. As she pulls them across the table, the poker- chips are dragged to the floor. Annabel turns at the sound and looks down at the poker-chips, dazed. Willie re-enters the bedroom. Annabel suddenly drops the clothes on the floor and runs out into the hall. Tiger stands motionless'] CURTAIN Cycle To Kahlil Gibran l^The scene is a thickly furnished library in the home of a Prussian officer. Books are all about in ornate cases. There is a double door at the back, a fire-place at the left and, over a book-case at the right, a long narrow stained-glass window de- signed about a coat-of-arms. Friedrich the officer, leaning over a desk at the left, is indicating to his wife, Rosa, certain points in a map of Asia Minor^ Elisabeth. \^A girl of fifteen, entering'^ Please, father, may I show my friends the snap-shots ? — The ones you took? Friedrich. {^Handing them to her from a desk- drawer^ Yes, Elsa, certainly. [She runs happily out with the photo- graphs^ W 148 Cycle Rosa. Why did you laugh at what I asked you, Friedrich? Because it was untrue? — ridiculous? Friedrich. Why do you listen to a servant, Rosa? Rosa. It was untrue? Friedrich. Where is the girl? Rosa. She's gone. Friedrich. So, after listening to a servant's gossip, You've joined the enemy, have you? Rosa. Friedrich, no! Friedrich. When I come home from war, home to my wife, You accuse me — Cycle 149 Rosa. No. I only asked. Friedrich. Don't ask. Do you teach our little girl, Elisabeth, To ask such questions? Rosa. No. Friedrich. Teach her good sense. Teach her to keep her servants in their place. Who was this servant? How should she have news Of what went on in Syria ? Rosa. Through her husband. Friedrich. A soldier? 150 Cycle Rosa. Yes. An orderly. Friedrich. The name! Rosa. I don't remember. Friedrich. Your own servant's name? Rosa. She left so soon. Friedrich. She said we fattened them, We fattened them before we tasted them, Plump Syrian pheasants for an officer's table — And my wife believed her I Rosa. No, I only asked. Cycle 151 Friedrich. l^Reasonably^ The Turks, of course, were on their own behavior. It seems that in hot countries men must change Their ladies, like their linen, frequently. Perhaps, if we'd remained there long enough, Even the rest of us — Rosa. She said the Turks — The Turkish officers — ^would seldom join. But the northerners — Friedrich. {^Interrupting sternly^ We do our duty, Rosa. They wanted the world for themselves and they had to be shown, French, English, Russians — Rosa. But not Syrians ! 152 Cycle Friedrich. Yes. They'd be our enemies too, if they were free. They have to be shown, as the others had to be shown, That the sooner we enjoy our place in the sun. The better for them all. We frighten them. It isn't pleasant work. It's part of war. Rosa. This wretched war ! Friedrich. This necessary war. God willed it. Rosa. Not the God I pray to. Friedrich. Christ? . ' Did you decide this with your servant too ? . Rosa. Are you deciding it, Friedrich, for a servant? Cycle 153 Friedrich. Did she particularize? {^Sarcastic^ You should have asked The name and date and place. Rosa. In Lebanon, Ten months ago, she said. Friedrich. The filthy liar! Elisabeth. {Running in again, with the photographs^ They loved the camels and the funny houses. And look at this one. Friedrich. {Taking it^ What? I didn't mean — Was that among them? Elisabeth. All those little girls — Was it a school? 154 Cycle Friedrich. Perhaps. Elisabeth. And look at her. How old was this girl? Friedrich. I don't know. Fifteen. Elisabeth. She looks like Cousin Gretel. Rosa. [ Taking it from her husband^ Let me see. Elisabeth. What were they doing all alone like that, If it's not a school. And, father, look, please tell me, Why were their heads hung down? What made them turn Their faces ? Look at that one ! Rosa. [/k a low tone'] They were afraid. Cycle 155 Friedrich. It was the sun. Here, let me have it, Rosa. {^Taking it and crushing it in his hand^ It's not worth keeping. Elisabeth. Father, please, I want it! The girl like Gretel — the pretty one ! Friedrich. It's torn. I'm sorry. Elisabeth. Perhaps she isn't torn. Please look. I want it, father ! Friedrich. Where are your manners gone? Your mother's spoiled you while I've been away. Elisabeth. I want it. 156 Cycle Friedrich. Answer me, Elisabeth. Are you a Prussian, dear? — or something else ? Elisabeth. I'm Prussian, father. Friedrich. Be a Prussian, then. Obedience, dear, and self-control, it's these On which the state depends. And we look to you, You future citizens, to prove our faith And pride and justify our victory. How can you be a Prussian and not rule Yourself? Elisabeth. Pm sorry, father. I'll be good. Rosa. And do we always practise what we preach? Friedrich. I'm going out for half an hour. Elisabeth. Friedrich. Another time. Cycle 157 Take me? Elisabeth. May I come to the door with you? Friedrich. [Throwing the crumpled photograph into the fireplace'^ Of course. [When they have gone, Rosa uncreases the picture and looks at it — and then away from it, her fingers closing on the frag- ments']^ Elisabeth. [Calling gaily from outside"] Mother! O mother, quick! Rosa. [Tearing the picture into smaller hits'] What is it, dear? [Appearing] 158 Cycle Elisabeth. They were sending him away! Can't he come in? {^fFhisperinffl A funny foreigner with things to sell. Rosa. We don't need anything. Elisabeth. Mother, we might I Rosa. It's war-time. Elisabeth. O let him show them to us — for my birthday ! You said you'd buy me something for my birthday. We might find just the thing! Rosa. [Smiling, yielding^ Well, — if you like. Elisabeth. {^Turning, while her mother throws the tiny fragments hack into the fireplaceji Cycle 159 Come in. Yes, mother says you may. In here. \^A little bearded Foreigner enters, dark and bent. His right arm is gone. Under his left he is carrying a red box, tied with rope^ Rosa. [Apologetically'] We may not buy from you. The Foreigner. [/« a low quaver, like that of an old priest] You need not buy. Rosa. Our money goes for war-work now, you know. The Foreigner. Beautiful things are what I love — not money. And if you do not take them, I still have them. Rosa. [As he unties the box] From Turkey? i6o Cycle The Foreigner. [Indicating his lost arni] From the war. Rosa. Poor man, I see. The Foreigner. If they'd not taken my heart, I'd have it still. [^Beating his breast dully'\ Isn't it strange, lady? — I have no heart! Rosa. It's taken all our hearts and broken them, This war. The Foreigner. They call it war. Elisabeth. [As the box opens^ O mother, seel Beautiful things! [She takes some of them out carefully'\ Cycle i6i The Foreigner. [/« a broken half-mad wait] All of them dead ! — dead ! Rosa. Don't, please. You frighten her. The Foreigner. \_Turntng toward the door, with soft cunning] IVe something here — Something to show her. \JVhile they examine his laces, he looks outside, then comes in and deftly locks the door, without their noticing] The Foreigner. Something here to show her. \^He lifts out all the laces in a heap and holds up to them, a long dark lock of hair] Rosa. \With an uneasy laugh] O no, no ! Not for us. I 62 Cycle The Foreigner. [Wailing again] Yes ! Yes ! For you ! This loveliest thing! This thing that was alive ! [To Elisabeth] Look at it ! Touch it ! Elisabeth. [Startled] No! Rosa. Please — not to her! Tell me. I'm older. I will understand. Go, Elsa, quick! The Foreigner. Why go? Are you so young? [Holding up the lock of hair] She was as young! Elisabeth. [Clinging to Rosa] O mother, I'm afraid! Cycle 163 The Foreigner. She was afraid. They tore her from her mother, They tore her hands away, they whipped her hands. They gashed her mother's forehead with a gun. They cut her father's arm off, stabbed him down. They dragged her with the rest and watched her, watched her. Lest she bite open a vein in her wrist and die. As another girl had done. They watched her, watched her. They fed her milk and wine and made her eat. And then they came and tied her arms, they tied her. And gave her to the man who had chosen her . . . Two nights he had her; then they handed her To other men like him, then common men — And men and men, till she was sick and done And hideous and mad. And then they threw her. 164 Cycle My daughter's murdered body, still alive, Into a well, into a deep cold well. "Nobody'll drink from there for a good long while, Nobody'll drink from there for a good long while" — That's what they said and left her, and she died And, ever since, I have tried to come to you, l^Slowly approaching them^ To come to you, to come and tell you this. What do you think now of the man you love ? What do you think of him? Rosa. Merciful God ! The Foreigner. I am a Syrian, come from Lebanon — From all those Syrian homes! Rosa. But not our fault! For God's sake, don't! I'll give you any- thing! {^Elisaheth beats at the door and screams wildly^ Cycle 165 The Foreigner. [^Shoutinff^ What do I want but this ? Nothing but this ! \^Thr owing his revolver down and seizing ElisabetK] Then I can die. [He starts back, hearing heavy blows on the outside of the door. With the force of its breaking open, Elisabeth falls to the floor. Friedrich, entering, instantly thrusts his sword through the foreigner. Pausing only a second, Rosa, who has picked up the foreigner's revolver, shoots her husbandl Rosa. [Facing her daughter in terror and pity and hope'\ Elisabeth ! Elisabeth. [Slowly, with wide eyes'] Yes, mother. CURTAIN Iphigenia in Tauris To Isadora Duncan You exclaimed one day, "If only there ivere a simple English text of Iphigenia as human as the Greek, no rhymes, no in'versions, no loss of meaning in the sound! And nxihen I nvrote you this, you liked and used it. Therefore the blame or praise be partly yours. On the seashore stands a great Temple, with steps leading to a blood-stained altar. Iphigenia, the Priest- ess, comes out of the Temple. Iphigenia. Pelops, the son of Tantalus, by speed Of chariot earned a bride, who bore him Atreus. And Atreus had two sons, one Menelaus, The other Agamemnon, who in turn By Clytemnestra had a child, and I Am she, Iphigenia. It is thought That I was sacrificed by my own father To Artemis, in the great quest of Helen, Upon an altar near the bay of Aulis, There where the long deep waves are caught and broken Hither and thither by the winds. That bay Held Agamemnon's fleet, the thousand ships From Hellas, waiting to avenge on Troy The wrong done Menelaus by the loss Of Helen. But a storm came up and still 169 170 Iphigenia in Tauris Another storm, and neither sea nor wind Would favor Agamemnon. So he asked Calchas the soothsayer to consult the flame. And this is what was answered : " Agamemnon, Captain of Hellas, there can be no way Of setting free thy ships till Artemis ■Has had fulfilled Her promised sacrifice. For thou hadst vowed to sacrifice each year The fairest thing the year produced. And due To Her long since was one whom Clytemnestra Bore thee, the fairest of the year, thy daughter Iphigenia . . . Let her be brought and killed." They sent Odysseus with his lying tongue To lure me from my mother, on the plea That I should wed Achilles. When I came To Aulis, they laid hold of me and led Me to the flame, and would have struck — I saw The knife! But Artemis deceived their eyes, Leaving a deer instead, and stole me through The radiant blue until She set me down Here in the town of Tauris, where there live Barbaric men ruled by their uncouth King, Thoas, a rider reckless as the wind. He made of me a priestess in Her Temple, And here I serve Her on Her festal days. It has a holy sound, that word, but far From holy are the rites I . . . Yet I dare Not question. Dumbly I must sacrifice To Her delight strangers who happen here. Iphigenia in Tauris 171 It was their custom long before I came. My hands ordain the victim. Other hands, Inside the Inner Temple, drain his blood. Which then is poured upon this altar-stone. {She comes down the steps) I dreamed last night a deathly dream. Perhaps The morning will dispel it if I speak it. I dreamed myself at home again in Argos, Asleep among my maidens — when a roll Of thunder shook the ground. I ran outside. I watched the house. I saw the coping fall. Then the whole palace plunged from roof to base. Only one column stood untouched, of all My father's home. And that one stood alive, A man with bright brown hair and breathing lips. Then I began unwillingly to touch His brow with the water that means woe to strangers — And with the tears of my interpretation. Must it not mean Orestes? — Dead, dead! It was my brother whom I touched with tears. The pillar of a family is the son. And in those waters is the sign of death. , Let me then pour the funeral-cup, for him Who is too far away for nearer rites. {She goes up the steps again) 172 Iphigenia in Tauris Come now, my maidens, my Hellenic maidens, captives of the king ! — Enslaved to serve The living, let us freely serve the dead. I must go in and pray, then call to them By the great summons of the Temple-bell. {She goes into the Temple) Orestes. {Cautiously following Py lades toward the Tem- ple) Take care lest someone should be coming by! Pylades. 1 looked both ways and there is no one coming. Orestes. Is this the Shrine of Artemis, v^^hich wt Set out from Argos over many seas To find ? O Pylades ! — is this the Shrine ? Pylades. I think it is, Orestes. So dost thou. Orestes. Is that the stone, dark with the blood of Greeks? Pylades. If ever I saw blood — look, on the edge! Iphigenia in Tauris 173 > Orestes. And there beneath the roof, spoils of the dead! Pylades. Trophies of strangers whom these men have mur- dered. Orestes. Be careful how thou goest then — be watchful! Why has Thy oracle, O Phoebus, sent This thing upon me and the sight of blood Again? Have I not seen enough of blood? My mother shed my father's blood, I hers. And then the Furies, with their eyes bloody, Hunted me down, a wanderer through the world — Till fugitive I went to Thee, to pray An end of all the cycles of despair That sped me, maddened me, hurled me through Hellas. Thy answer came : " Go seek the Taurian land Where Artemis my Sister has Her Shrine. Discover there Her eflfigy that fell From Heaven into the Temple. Then by skill Or by good-fortune take it and proceed Surviving every hazard, and convey The Image to the holy land of Athens." No more was said, except that by this deed I was to be relieved of my afflictions . . . 174 Iphigenia in Tauris And here I am, O Phoebus, far from home Upon this dismal shore — obeying Thee. Now, Pylades, companion of my task, What course are we to take? To scale these walls Would be impossible. Are we to climb The open stairs? — and so be seen? Are we To force the brazen locks, not knowing where They lead? For if they come upon us here, It will be certain death. Shall we not turn In time and take our ship? O, let me face The Furies, rather than inflict this thing On thee! Pylades. What do we know of flight? How dare We take a course of which our hearts know nothing? Why should we disobey Apollo's voice And offer Him dishonor? No! There must Be ways. Come, let us leave the Temple, hide Ourselves in some dark cave and shun the ship Lest it should be attacked and we be captured. Look! through that opening between the beams A man might lower himself inside the wall ! — A coward drops the cup. But a brave man's drink Is hardship. And by all the Gods shall we. Coming as far as this, now at the end turn back? Orestes. No. Thou art saying what I too should say. Iphigenia IN Tauris 175 So let us go and find our hiding-place. Phoebus would never tolerate defeat Of His commandment. Come! Have we not youth ? — Add youth to courage, we can move the world. (They go out) (The great bell rings. One by one the Temple Maidens assemble) A Maiden. O ye who dwell upon these Clashing Rocks That guard the Euxine Sea, Keep silence now before Latona's Daughter, Artemis, Goddess of the pointed hills! (Turning toward the Altar) Artemis, I come On consecrated feet into Thy court, 1 hail Thee beautiful In Thy gold dome above the colonnades! A Second Maiden. Thy priestess calls me, she who keeps Thy keys. Who left behind, for Thee, Her land of Hellas, the embattled walls. The shore of horses, and the quiet fields 176 IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS Wherein my father lived. I must obey her call and worship Thee In this embittered land Far from Eurotas and from happiness. A Third Maiden. (Going- to Iphigenia, who enters from the Tem- ple) daughter of the king that gathered ships A thousand strong and led Unnumbered men against high-towering Troy, 1 heard thee call and I have come to thee. Why hast thou summoned us? What makes thy cheek so thoughtful and so pale? What has thy tongue to tell, That thy brow is dark and bowed upon thy hands? Iphigenia. My maidens, listen! Listen while I tell What I have seen. The Muse has hid Her face And I am mourning for a kinsman lost. Last night I had a dream of destiny. O weep with me ! — I saw my brother dead ! My dream was clear. My father's house is ended, My race broken and gone, Orestes dead ! What anguish, Argos, art thou made to bear When Fate pursues me still and takes from me My only brother ! — Iphigenia IN Tauris 177 To the vanished dead Let me now pour this offering, this gift Upon the earth, commingled of the milk Of mountain-kine and of the wine of Bacchus And of the honey that the russet bees Gathered, — a soothing gift for him I loved. Give me the heavy urn of gold, to hold My offering to the God of Death. This urn, Orestes, son of Agamemnon, thou That liest dead beneath the earth, I bring And pour for thee. Better I cannot bring, I cannot bring to thee my heavy locks, I cannot lay them, weeping, on thy grave. And yet, though men believe me long since dead, I still can weep, far from my home and thee. A Fourth Maiden. O Lady, woe is in me for thy woe, My song is like the song Of old that mourners in the far-off east Chant for the dead, reciting only death, The very song of hell, A wail of no returning and no hope, Using no note of glory, Only the desolation of the grave. The First Maiden. Mourn for the sons of Atreus, in whose house 178 Iphigenia in Tauris The hearth can never burn! Mourn for their bitter heritage, a home That waits the coming of some happy King But cannot give him v^^elcome! Trouble is born forever in their sky Since Phoebus turned His car Of toppling horses out of the course of joy. The Third Maiden. There was desired long since a golden lamb, And out of the dispute Mischief arose to tantalize thy house . . . The Fourth Maiden. Vengeance has made its unappeased way With every dart of death And visited thy family one by one, And now with eager hand Fate is pursuing thee. Thy turn has come. Iphigenia. O bitter my beginning in the womb Of her who bore me, from the very night That she conceived! Appointed by the Fates To suffer in this world, I was a child Accursed. Yet how she cherished me, her first-born, And thrilled that I, of all the girls of Argos, Should be a bride upon the way to Troy! What had she borne me for and loved me for ? — Iphigenia in Tauris 179 To come to nothing, through my father's fault! To come, behind the horses of delight, Not to Achilles — but to grief and horror ! And now beside this melancholy sea I live my days — lonely, no love, no friends, Wife of no man and mother of no child. I know no home. I sing no Argive song "With Argive women to the Queen of Heaven. I weave upon the whirring loom no tale Of Pallas routing Titans . . . O, instead, I see an altar stained with bloody death. I hear the cry for pity and the moans Of men — a woe too hideous to be told. Yet even that is little to me now — Now that a throne is empty and his eyes Are past all weeping, as I wish mine were. For I who loved Orestes all those years Shall never see him now but as I left him, A little baby at his mother's breast — I who had thought to see him as a King. The Second Maiden. Look ! — from the beach a herdsman comes to thee, Comes like a man with news! Herdsman. (Arriving breathless) O daughter of the house of Agamemnon, l8o IPHIGENIA IN TauRIS I have a thing to tell! Iphigenia. Is it a thing To warrant this intrusion? Herdsman. Yes ... A ship From sea has rounded the Symplegades And in the mist two men have come ashore, Young, worthy to be offered on the altar! Make ready then the Feast of Artemis! Iphigenia. Where are they from?- — what country? Couldst thou tell? Herdsman. From Hellas, but I could not say what part. Iphigenia. What were their names? Thou must have heard their names! Herdsman. One of them called the other " Pylades." Iphigenia. And the one who spoke? Iphigenia in Tauris i8i Herdsman. We did not hear his name. Iphigenia. Where were they captured? Herdsman. Down beside the sea. Iphigenia. What were you herdsmen doing by the sea? Herdsman. Washing our cattle there. Iphigenia. But answer me, How were they captured? It is new to me And unbelievable. For all this time Has passed and never brought a Greek before To bleed in sacrifice — never a Greek. Herdsman. Just as we drove our cattle from the woods In that long hollow where the curling tide Has cut away the cliff, where fishers rest From purple-fishing, one of us ahead Came stealing back on tiptoe and he warned us: " They are not men but Gods ! Behind that rock ! — 1 82 IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS Not men but Gods ! " And then another herds- man, Caught sight of them, raised up his hands and prayed : " God in whose keeping are all ships, Palaemon ! — Have mercy on us, whether these be Sons Of Zeus or Brothers of the Fifty Nereids! " But another mocked our fear and laughed aloud, Daring the possible anger of the Gods. For he maintained there must have been a wreck And these were mariners who chose that cave To hide in, having heard that strangers here Are sacrificed. And he persuaded most Of us; and we were planning what to do To capture them — when one of them came out Into full view and, standing there a moment. Stared not at us nor anything we saw But straight above him, groaning, shuddering. And bent his head from one side to the other Behind his arms, like one delirious. And then cried out as sharply as a hunter: "Look, Pylades! O look at her! O look! There ! — there 1 Dost thou not see her now ? — that Fury From hell! Look at the serpent on her head With mouth wide open, writhing for my blood Another ! — and another ! Look at her High on the cliff, belching a flame at me And holding in her hands my mother's body Iphigenia IN Tauris 183 Till she can hurl it down on me and kill me ! O they are all around me! Pylades!" And we could tell by the motion of his head When the dogs barked or when the cattle lowed That some invisible Fury mocking him Became to him in every sound a threat. In our amazement we were sitting there Like stricken men — when out he whipped his sword And, quick as a lion, leapt upon our herd As if attacking Furies there. He slashed Their sides with might and main until the rim Of the sea was rolling thick with gore. We saw Our herd wounded and dying and we looked For sticks to arm ourselves and blew our horns For help. And then when slowly we approached him — His madness left him. I can see him now Standing a moment. While I watch he drops In a heap and foaming at the lips. Our chance ! — Our chance! Forward we hurried with our cudgels And rocks. But still his comrade, unafraid, Leaned over him and wiped his lips and held A linen fold above his face protecting him — Till suddenly the fallen man stood up Calm and himself again and saw the rush Of stones that neared him like a breaking wave. He gave one groan as we surrounded him; And then we heard his voice ring clear and say: 1 84 Iphigenia IN Tauris " Death, Pylades ! Then let us meet it well — Like men ! Out with thy sword and follow me ! " Back from the glittering swords we ran, to lure Them to the glen. For there when some of us Would run to shelter others could hurl rocks To draw the pursuers ofE and then could fly . And let the first come back again with stones. And yet the destined offering stood clean. For, strange as it may sound, of all the stones We volleyed at those men, not one went true! All we could hope for was to wear them out. So, working round them in a ring, we struck Their swords with stones, until they lost their hold And had no breath for the recovery. And then we took them captive to the King, Who ordered us to bring them here to thee To be prepared and bled for Artemis. Ask Artemis, O priestess, to direct Other such wanderers as these to Tauris! Let men from Hellas shed their blood for thine Which men from Hellas clamored for at Aulis! The First Maiden. This is no common man who came away From the land of Hellas to an alien shore And battled like a God ! Iphigenia. Go back and bring me the two mariners. Iphigenia IN Tauris 185 I shall be ready for them with the rites. (Exit the Herdsman) Poor heart of mine, which in the days gone by Was tender and compassionate to strangers, And even yesterday grew pitiful At thought of men from Hellas coming here, A cruel dream has changed thee overnight. For since Orestes is no more alive, Now, where my heart was, there is only stone And you who come today, no matter who, Will find in me a woman without tears. Friends, by my own unhappiness I know That the experience of evil days Brings disregard for lesser sufferers. No heaven-sent wind has ever forced a ship Between the Clashing Rocks, bringing me Helen, That Helen whom I hate, and Menelaus, That I might make of them the sacrifice, Let a new Aulis expiate the old — And have my vengeance ! — It was Helen's fault And his, that Greek hands lifted me at Aulis And led me like a beast before the altar — Where he who held the knife was my own father. I live it all again. My hands groping, Go out to him again and touch his beard I 86 IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS And cling about his knees. I cry to him: " O thou thyself, thyself, hast brought me here ! Thou hast deceived my maidens and my mother! They sing my marriage-song at home, they fill The house with happiness . . . and all the time Here am I dying — slain, father, by thee! Thou hast led me in thy chariot, to take Achilles for my lord. But here is death — And on my lips no kiss but only blood ! " And I had left my home with my white veil •Drawn down. I had not taken in my arms My brother, who is dead, nor kissed my sister. I had saved all my kisses and embraces For him I thought to marry . . . Yet my heart Was homesick even then and ached with hope That I should soon come back again to Argos. And thou art dead, Orestes, and thou too Foregoest our inheritance, our home! O what has Artemis desired of me? — She who forbids Her court to any man Whose hand is stained with bloodshed or with touch Of childbirth or of burial, calls him Unclean and bans him — She so scrupulous In all these things — will yet receive the blood Of human beings on Her altar-stone? It is not credible. Latona bore To Zeus no daughter so unkind! The thing Iphigenia IN Tauris 187 Is no more true than are the tales they tell Of Tantalus preparing for the Gods A child whom They devoured . . . Artemis, These people being murderers themselves, Impute to Thee their own iniquity. — No ! — I will not believe it of a God ! The Second Maiden. Who can these be that left the holy streams Of Dirce, or the reeds Green-growing in Eurotas, to prefer This bitter beach, to dare the ominous rocks Where the seas meet in fog, Where Artemis, among Her colonnades Demanding sacrifice, Receives upon Her altars human blood? The Fourth Maiden. Why have they urged the oarsmen on their ship To shake the clinging sea With a great stroke, and to accelerate With rush of rivalry the racing wind? Was it to sweep the shores For riches and to vie in bearing home, Each to upbuild his house. The treasures and the trophies of the world? That glittering hope is immemorial And beckons many men IPHIGENIA IN TAUiaS To their undoing. Ever insatiate, They sail the sea and look to foreign towns To fill their ships with spoil. But some men never find prosperity, For all their voyaging; While others find it with no voyaging. The Third Maiden. How have they passed the peril of the rocks That clash? and of the beach Of Phineus heavy with broken waves? How have they turned their rudder to the land Where the Fifty Nereids Hand in hand dance and circle round and sing, Where the wings of ocean brood. And where Achilles rode by the dark water ? The First Maiden. My Lady prayed that Fate might hither bring. On the way home from Troy, The cause of her great misery. O would That Helen, Helen had been blown ashore, That on her fatal head. For recompense, the holy drops might fall And that my Lady's knife Might find in her the fitting sacrifice! The Second Maiden. But I have prayed for a deliverer, Iphigenia in Tauris 189 Some mariner from Hellas Able to end our pain and set us free. Ever I go, though only in a dream, Back to my father's home . . . No man has greater riches than the joy That comes to us in visions — They cannot take away from us our dreams. The Third Maiden. Look w^here they come ! — two captives bound in chains! The herdsman's news was true! Hush for the offering to Artemis! The Second Maiden. See, Hellas, how thy hands are impotent* To change this ritual! The Fourth Maiden. O Artemis, if Tauris in Thy sight Win favor by this gift. Assert Thy custom and receive this blood! Iphigenia. Let me now think of none but Artemis And serve Her with the worship She demands. Loosen their hands. For in this holy court Chains are unhallowed things. Enter the Temple, 190 IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS Prepare the altar for the ritual. (Turning to the captives) I wonder who your mother was? — your father? — Whether you had a sister who has lost Her brothers and laments their bravery? — Invisible and mute, Fate comes and goes And never whispers where Her blow shall fall; None of us ever sees Her in the dark Or understands Her cruel mysteries. Tell me, unhappy men, where are you from ? — You who are far from home and yet must go Farther away from home even than this! Orestes. What woman art thou, weeping for our lot? ,What can we mean to thee, to draw thy pity, To make our tribulation difficult? There is no wisdom in lamenting death And only fools, when they behold it near, Meet it with tears. The man who doubles death By the cowardice of pitying himself Earns for himself contempt as well as death . . . Let us accept our fortune as it comes — No pity and no tears ! We dared our fate. And what we undertook — we undertook. Iphigenia. One of your names was brought me by a herdsman. Iphigenia IN Tauris 191 Tell me then, which of you is Pylades? Orestes. He, if it does thee any good to know. Iphigenia. And from what town in Hellas? Orestes. Does it matter? Iphigenia. And are you brothers? Orestes. In all else but birth. Iphigenia. And what may I call thee? Orestes. Unfortunate! Iphigenia. That would be pity's name for thee, not mine. Orestes. Then say I have no name and call me nothing. 192 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. Art thou so jealous for thy reputation? ' Orestes. Come, sacrifice my body, not my name! Iphigenia. Thou wilt not even name for me thy town? Orestes. I am so soon a townsman of no town. Iphigenia. Surely it is not much to tell me that. Orestes. Ah, but it is — when one can answer, " Argos " 1 Iphigenia. Argos? not Argos? thou art not from Argos? Orestes. My town, Mycenae, was a lordly place. Iphigenia. Then what could bring thee from it ? — banish- ment? Orestes. A kind of banishment — yet self-imposed. Iphigenia in Tauris 193 Iphigenia. How fortunate to see a son of Argos! Orestes. But not to be one in thy company! Iphigenia. And let me ask about another town — Orestes. But why this questioning? Iphigenia. O tell me news Of that most talked-of town in all the world! What hast thou heard of Troy? Orestes. By all the Gods, I wish that I had never heard its name! Iphigenia. But is it true that Troy is overthrown? Orestes. Its towers lie broken in the dust. Iphigenia. And Helen? Has Menelaus taken Helen back? 194 Iphigenia in Tauris Orestes. And soon repented. For she brings him sorrow. Iphigenia. She brought me sorrow too. Where is she now? Orestes. Gone back with him to Sparta. Iphigenia. How I hate The name of Helen! How all Hellas hates it! Orestes. I have my own good cause for hating it. Iphigenia. Did the Achteans return home contented? Orestes. It would take many tongues to answer that. Iphigenia. But tell me quickly, while there still is time! Orestes. Then ask me quickly. I will answer thee. Iphigenia. What of the soothsayer, Calchas? Where is he? Iphigenia in Tauris 195 Orestes. Reported dead at home. Iphigenia. ' O Artemis, Hail for that news! And is Odysseus dead? Orestes. Neither at home nor dead — but wandering. Iphigenia. O how I pray he never reach his home! Orestes. Why wish him that? Has he not borne enough? Iphigenia. What of Achilles ? Orestes. Dead. His marriage planned At Aulis never happened. Iphigenia. Those who knew About that plan knew it a cruel lie. Orestes. Knowing these things, art thou thyself from Hellas? 196 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. I was, but lost my home long, long ago. Orestes. No wonder thou art asking me these questions! Iphigenia. What of that king they called The Happy King? Orestes. The one I think thou meanest was not happy. Iphigenia. I ask of Agamemnon. Orestes. I know nothing, Nothing of him. O ask me no more questions! Iphigenia. But no news must be good news! Say it is! Orestes. The news is death — his and another's death. Iphigenia. O Agamemnon ! O King Agamemnon ! Orestes. Could he be kin to thee, thou carest so? Iphigenia IN Tauris 197 Iphigenia. Remembering his glory and his pride! Orestes. All of it ended by his own wife's hand. Iphigenia. O ! — Pitiable woman ! Poor, poor king ! Orestes. Ask me no more, I beg, not one word more! Iphigenia. But is she living? Answer me but that! Orestes. Her own son killed her. Iphigenia. Why? Orestes. To be avenged On her who killed his father. Iphigenia. How exact He was, how just! Yet how I pity him! 198 Iphigenia in Tauris Orestes. And well thou mayest. No God pities him. Iphigenia. Not one of Agamemnon's children left? Orestes. Electra, yes. But loses him she loves! Iphigenia. What has been said of her they sacrificed? Orestes. Nothing of her, except that she is dead. Iphigenia. O miserable king, willing to slay her! Orestes. O wicked Vv^ar caused by a wicked woman. And all the waste and wicked consequence! Iphigenia. The son of the dead king — alive in Argos ? Orestes. Living, but not in Argos, not in Argos ! Iphigenia. My dream was nothing then, it lied to me! Iphigenia in Tauris 199 Orestes. Dreams, lies, lies, dreams, — nothing but emptiness! Even the Gods with all Their name for wisdom Have only dreams and lies and lose Their course, Blinded, confused and ignorant as we. The wisest man is he who goes his way And listens to no prophet guiding him. The fool is he who' follows oracles, Forsaking his own judgment. Those who know Know such a man can only come to wreck. The Second Maiden. O who will bring us news whether our kin Are living or are dead ! Iphigenia. Let me suggest a plan that I have thought of. To our advantage, yours as well as mine. And nothing makes more surely for achievement Than interests in common. Tell me this . . , Wilt thou go back, if I can grant thee leave. Bearing for me to Argos and my friends A letter that has been prepared for them? My words were written down by one who died Here at my ritual but pitied me, Blaming his blood on Artemis, not me. No one had come from Hellas, not one Greek, Whose life might be conceded to bear home My message. But in thee I find a man Worthy to carry it, knowing the names 200 Iphigenia in Tauris And places dear to me. And so I ask Thy help and offer in exchange thy life — With one condition: that thy friend remain, To pay the sacrifice to Artemis. Orestes. I thank thee, Lady, for a fair proposal. Save in that one respect. What would my life Be worth to me, earned by deserting him? I am the captain of this misadventure, And he but sailed with me to comfort me. It would be wrong if he should pay the cost And I repudiate my enterprise. Thy errand shall be done — but not by me. Give him thy confidence, give him thy letter. To thee it makes no difference which of us Carries the message homeward. And to me It makes no difference when I die or how. But if I brought disaster on a friend And yet myself went free, then there would be No faith left in me, no respect, no love. Besides, his life is dear to me as mine. His life is mine. For in his life — I live. Iphigenia. Thou hast a heart of gold and must be sprung From some great seed, to be so true a friend. . . If only the survivor of my race May be like thee! I have a brother left, IpHIGENIA in TaURIS 20I Although I should not know him by his face. As thou hast chosen then, so let it be. Thy friend shall take the letter — and thou prove Thy love by laying down thy life for him. Orestes. Whose is the hand that sacrifices me? Iphigenia. Whose hand but mine! Artemis willed it so. Orestes. Thy hand! Thy poor, unenviable hand! Iphigenia. WTiat is imposed on me I must obey. Orestes. A woman hold the knife to shed men's blood! Iphigenia. Not that ! — O not the knife ! — Only the water, The sacrificial water for thy brow. Orestes. Who is it then that strikes the final blow ? Iphigenia. Inside the Shrine are men who do that part. 202 Iphigenia in Tauris Orestes. When I am burnt, what happens to my body? Iphigenia. They seal the ashes in a rocky cleft. Orestes. that my sister's hand might tend my body! Iphigenia. She is too far away from thee to hear Petition for the gift she cannot give. . . . Being from Argos, let me care for thee, Let me do everything that she might do! 1 will array thy body in rich robes — Then pour upon the embers yellow oil Cooling and clean and the golden essences That bees collect from every mountain-flower. To make thee pure and sweet. . . . Now I must go And bring my letter. I have kept it here So long a while. — O think of me with pity. See that you guard these men, but do not bind them. O if at last my letter should arrive In Argos and be opened by the hand Of him I love, a letter never dreamed-of, Then he would listen through the opening grave And hear my living lips cry out to him! IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS 203 (She goes into the Temple) The First Maiden. I pity thee upon whose fated head The water shall be sprinkled! Orestes. But choose not pity. Change it into hope. The Second Maiden. Let me then hope, but not for thee, for him, That he may come again Into his father's country and be blest. Pylades. But how can he be blest who leaves his friend? The First Maiden. Or I hold back my pity for thy death? The Fourth Maiden. And yet I pity thee, having to live. The Third Maiden. Which is unhappier? The Fourth Maiden. I cannot tell, — I watch and cannot tell Whether to pity thee, or thee, the more. 204 Iphigenia in Tauris Orestes. O Pylades, what art thou thinking of? Pylades. What dost thou think that I am thinking of ? Orestes. This woman! Thou rememberest her questions, Each one so apt; of the defeat of Troy, Of the Achaeans' homecoming, of Calchas, Of Achilles, and her great concern At Agamemnon's death and then her questions About his wife and children? I believe That she herself, she too, belongs in Argos ! — Or she would never send a letter there And make all these inquiries anxiously As if the fate of Argos were her own. Pylades. Thou hast expressed what I was wondering. And yet I thought it natural enough That in a city at all civilized People should ask about the fate of kings . . . But that was not what troubled me, so much as — Orestes. As what? Tell me and let me help thee solve it. Pylades. How canst thou wrong me, thinking I would live Iphigenia in Tauris 205 And let thee die? As I set out with thee So shall I journey with thee to the end, Or I should never show my face again Among the hills of Argos, but to be Despised and pointed out in every valley As one who had betrayed a friend. And worse Than that would be declared of me, the worst That evil minds can conjure and enjoy — Even ::hat I had wished thy death, or caused it, That I might profit by inheritance And, being thy sister's husband, win thy throne. See how afraid I am and how ashamed Of the very thought of leaving thee. One way, And only one is open. Where thou goest. Though to the knife and to the flame, I fol- low — That I may be beyond a doubt thy friend. Orestes. Thou canst not be my friend and yet deny me. I bear a load that cannot be laid down, And wilt thou lighten thine by doubling mine? All the humiliating shame that thou But fearest from men's tongues would fall to me In my own heart from my own conduct, if I let The services thou didst me bring thee harm. What has Fate left me of my life to cherish But a good ending? As for thee, my friend, Thou hast not any right to choose to die. 2o6 Iphigenia in Tauris Thou hast the blessing of thy happy blood To make thee wish to live. And so I pray That by thy life a comfort may be brought To my afflicted house. O Pylades, When thou art home, there with thy wife, my sister, Beget for me, dear friend, my happiness. Let my name live again and in thy children The house of Agamemnon be renewed. Therefore go back and make my home thy home. And having come to Hellas and the shore Where the Argive horsemen ride — give me thy hand And swear that thou wilt make a grave for me And lay on it memorials and let My sister bring, remembering me, a lock Of her long hair. Tell her that I was led Before the altar by the hand of one Who came from Argos, by a woman's hand, And how my blood at last was purified. O Pylades, be good to her, be true! And fare thee well, my best and truest friend, Loved in my boyhood when I shared my sport Over the hills with thee and in my manhood When my sorrows came and thou wert with me still ! By falsely prophesying, Phoebus lied To me and tricked me ; luring me away From home, lest watchful eyes in Hellas see That Gods, like men, can break Their promises. Iphigenia in Tauris 207 I gave Him everything, my faith, my vi^ill, I killed my mother for He bade me strike . . . And in return He has forsaken me. Pylades. Let me obey then not myself but thee — And build thy tomb in Hellas. Be assured That I shall love thy sister well and always. And having loved thee living, I shall know How to receive thee closer in thy death . . . If death it be. We marvel at the Gods And their mysterious way of keeping hid The face of life behind a mask of death, Then showing the true face. Orestes. The time is gone For the Gods to show that face — for she has come. Iphigenia. (Returning and addressing the Attendants) Precede me into the Temple and be ready. {The Attendants enter the Temple) Here is my letter, all this length of it . . , Yet I have wondered. When a man arrives 2o8 Iphigenia in Tauris Out of his danger, he forgets his fear And sometimes he forgets his promises. Wherefore my apprehension lest thy friend, When he is freed and on his way again, Forget how much this letter means to me. Orestes. And what dost thou propose, to ease thy mind? Iphigenia. That he shall swear to take this where I say. Orestes. And wilt thou make an oath matching his oath? Iphigenia. To do what, or undo what? Orestes. To obtain Safe quittance for him from this wretched place. Iphigenia. What would his oath be good for, lacking mine? Orestes. But will the King of Tauris let him sail? Iphigenia. I can persuade the King and will myself Go to the ship and put thy friend aboard. Iphigenia in Tauris 209 Orestes. Then state the oath that thou wilt have him swear. Iphigenia. Promise to give this letter to my friend. Pylades. I swear to give this letter to thy friend. Iphigenia. And I to give thee safeguard from this place. Pylades. Thou swearest by what name? Iphigenia. By Artemis, Whose favor be upon me in Her temple! Pylades. And I by Zeus Himself, by Heaven's King. Iphigenia. And if thou failest to fulfill thy oath? Pylades. Then may I never see Argos again ! — And if thou failest in fulfilling thine? 2IO Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. Then let me fail ever to come to Argos. Pylades. There is one chance that we have not considered. Iphigenia. A chance, thou meanest, that affects thy word? Pylades. The oath would not be fair if it should happen That in a storm the vessel should be wrecked Or strike a rock and everything go down And yet my life be saved — and not the letter. In that event I ask to be exempted. Iphigenia. In any plan, two ways make one way sure . . . Then let me tell thee carefully word by word The contents of my letter, thou in turn To tell it to my friend. And that insures us. For either thou shalt place it in his hand And let the silent writing speak or else The writing, lost, shall echo still in thee. Pylades. That will be safer both for thee and me. So tell me whom to find for thee in Argos And what to say to him. Iphigenia in Tauris 2 I I Iphigenia. Say this to him, Say to Orestes, son of Agamemnon, A greeting comes from one he thought was dead. Tell him his sister is not dead at Aulis But is alive. Orestes. Alive? Iphigenia? O no ! — Unless the dead come back again ! Iphigenia. Thou art beholding her, for I am she. But let me finish vi^hat I ask of him: " O brother, rescue me ! Let me not live The priestess of a loathly ritual ! — Let me not die forlorn, in a wild land ! " Orestes. Where am I, Pylades? What am I hearing? Iphigenia. " Lest thou, remembering me, shalt have no peace! " — The name, thou must repeat it, is Orestes. Pylades. Ye Gods! 212 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. Not Gods but a woman speaks to thee. Pylades. It seemed I heard the Gods — and yet heard thee ! O let me listen further and make sure! Iphigenia. Tell him that Artemis put out Her hand And spared my life at Aulis, leaving a deer To bleed for me instead, and that my father, Not looking when he struck, thought he slew me. Artemis brought me here. . . . The letter ends. Pylades. ' what an easy oath it is to keep! Lady, keep thine or not — I keep mine now. 1 bring thee this, Orestes, from thy sister. Orestes. How can I look at letters ? — Come to me ! O let me look at thee whom I had lost ! — O let me touch thee with my hands and prove That thou art real and hold thee close, close! The Third Maiden. Lay not thy hands, no matter who thou art, Upon those holy robes ! — Bring not indignity to Artemis! Iphigenia IN Tauris 213 Orestes. Thou art my sister, my own father's daughter, And nature will not let thee turn away From thy own brother given back to thee. Iphigenia. Ah, thou wouldst make me think that thou art he ! — Orestes is in Argos and not here. Orestes. No, my poor sister, not in Argos ! — here ! Iphigenia. Then was Tyndareus thy mother's father? Orestes. Yes, and my father's grandfather was Pelops. Iphigenia. What art thou saying? How can I believe thee? Orestes. By asking me about our father's home. Iphigenia. Then speak of it ! — for I am listening ! — speak ! Orestes. Electra used to tell us tales of Atreus And of Thyestes, how they came to quarrel. 214 Iphigenia IN Tauris Iphigenia. It was about a golden lamb they quarreled! Orestes. And thy hands made, with fine embroideries, A pattern of the quarrel. Iphigenia. Art thou he? Art thou in truth my brother? — art thou he? Orestes. There was a picture, on thy loom, of Phoebus Changing His course. Hast thou forgotten that? Iphigenia. O not one thread of it have I forgotten ! Orestes. There was a bath of bridal fragrances Thy mother sent to Aulis. — Thou rememberest? Iphigenia. Everything on that day I can remember — But happiness. Orestes. A lock of hair that came, Sent to thy mother. Iphigenia IN Tauris 215 Iphigenia. A memorial I meant it for, commemorating me — To mark a grave where I could never lie. Orestes. And I recall a keepsake in thy room, The ancient spear that Pelops once had used To win his bride. Iphigenia. Orestes, O my brother! My home has come to me from far away! For thou art come, I have thee in my arms 1 Orestes. And I have thee in mine, whom I thought dead! No wonder that the tears are in our eyes ! — Of joy, not sorrow ! — yet of sorrow too ! Iphigenia. Thou wert a baby, when I came away, Lifted to see me. And thy little arms Held out to me are come to me again. Grown strong to comfort me. How can I speak My joy! There is no language sweet enough! There is no joy like this. There never was! The Fourth Maiden. And would that we might say it need not end ! 2i6 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. I am bewildered. And I cannot think What I should say, my friends ? — I cannot think Of anything but joy — except a fear That he might vanish as he came. O Argos, Land of my love, my heart is full of thee, And of my brother thou hast borne and bred To be a living glory to thy name! Orestes. We who were born to happiness have lived And learned unhappiness. Iphigenia. Unhappiness? — how I learned it when against my throat My own unhappy father held the knife! Orestes. 1 have a vision of his stricken face. Iphigenia. And the false marriage, when the marriage-hymn Was made of tears! Not to Achilles' arms I went, but to the coldness of the altar — And felt the bitter waters on my head. Orestes. Unhappy daughter and unhappy father! Iphigenia IN Tauris 217 Iphigenia. But why have pity on a pitiless man Who brought me all this grief? Orestes. And might have brought On thee to-day — the slaying of thy brother! Iphigenia. Some God prevented. But I came so near, My hand was so impending on the deed, That I am shaken with the thought of thee — Dead! . . . We have seen today a miracle Begin. How shall it end for thee and me? How shall I speed thee safely from this place Of horror home again? For there are swords To face: a question fitter for thy wit To weigh than mine, though thou art shaken too. Shouldst thou be safer travelling by foot Than by the ship ? No, no ! — I see thee go Losing thy way among barbarians Ashore, encompassed by a thousand deaths. The ship is better — even that sharp return Between the Clashing Rocks. Go ! — dare the sea, Take to the ship again! And yet who knows If God or man shall guide thee on the sea To liberation ? — or if any chance Can save thee now to make our home a glory? 21 8 Iphigenia IN Tauris The Third Maiden. I have heard marvellous tales from story-tellers, But nothing to compare With this event which my own eyes have seen. Pylades. Orestes, it is natural for thee To greet thy sister and recount with her The happenings of thy house. But there are things Of urgency to think of: our escape Out of this land and how to compass it. For he is wise who makes a friend of Fortune And goes to meet her when she comes to him. Orestes. Well said ! — and let her be well met to-day ! — For every God helps him who helps himself. Iphigenia. But he shall tell me first about my sister, About Electra ! — Tell me of my sister ! Orestes. This is her husband. He has made her happy. Iphigenia. This man? — But who — Orestes. A Phocian. Strophius' son. Iphigenia IN Tauris 219 Iphigenia. Then he is Atreus' grandson ! — Our own house ! Orestes. Thy cousin; my one friend. Iphigenia. As yet unborn That day I came away to die! Orestes. The son Of Strophius in old age. Iphigenia. I welcome thee, My sister's husband. Orestes. Closer to me than brother. Iphigenia. But O our mother? — for thou hast not told me — Orestes. Let us not speak of her ! — she killed my father. Iphigenia. Thou hast not told me why. 220 IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS Orestes. Then do not ask me. Iphigenia. May I not ask if thou art King of Argos? Orestes. Not King but exile. Menelaus is King. Iphigenia. What ? — in thy time of grief he banished thee ? Orestes. Not he but Furies — the avenging Fiends ! Iphigenia. Thy madness on the beach — it was the Fiends ? Orestes. Yes, yes! One seeing me might think me mad. Iphigenia. And they pursue thee for thy mother's death? Orestes. To catch me and to curb me with her blood! Iphigenia. Thy coming here? IpHIGENIA IN TaURIS 22 1 Orestes. An oracle of Phoebus. Iphigenia. Which I may know about? Orestes. O let me tell My bitter narrative from end to end . . . After this poor hand had unspeakably Punished my mother's most unspeakable guilt, Down on my head they came attacking me, The Fiends from Hell. Then Phoebus ordered me To Athens, that I might protest their judgment At the Tribunal Zeus had sanctified To the trial of Ares for some ancient sin. When I arrived there, none of all my friends Received me. They avoided me at first As one unclean. Later they pitied me And gave me food in the same room with them, But at a separate table. And they served me An equal measure with themselves and filled My cup when theirs were filled, but turned Away and would not look at me nor speak With me — because I was a murderer. . . , And I showed no resentment but in silence. As though I did not care, I thought of her Whom I had killed and drank my bitter cup. They say that the Athenians memorize 222 IpHIGENIA IN TaURIS My sorrow with a feast, the Pitcher Feast, In which each man drinks his own cup in si- lence. ... When I had come to judgment on that hill, I on one side and on the other side The eldest of the Avengers charging me With murder, PhcEbus rose to my defence And by His eloquence redeemed my life. For Pallas, in the chair, finding the votes Cast evenly, for and against me, added Her own vote for me and acquitted me. Some of the Furies acquiesced and chose To infest a Temple close to the Tribunal. Others defied the verdict as unjust And turned on me again, tormenting me. Till I fled back to Phoebus for His aid, Fell down before the Shrine, faint with despair. And swore to take my life — unless the God Who had confounded me would rescue me. And then out pealed His voice, His golden voice Above the tripod, telling me to go Among the Taurians, to take away Their Artemis of stone carven in Heaven And to establish it and worship it In Athens. Help me now to do this thing! O help me, sister, to obey the God And carry out His mission ! Help me, sister ! — If only I may take within my hands Iphigenia in Tauris 223 The image of the Goddess, I am rid Of madness! And I urge thee with a gift Of rugged rowers rowing thee back to Argos! sister, sister, for our father's house 1 beg thy aid, to save that house and me! Unless we take the Image with thy help. This very day shall see our house destroyed. The Fourth Maiden. Some God is visiting ancestral sin Upon new generations. Iphigenia. How long, before thy coming, had I dreamed Of thee and of my country! How I wish With thee the restoration of our house — Even his house who would have slain me! Brother, My heart has melted in our misery. I have no anger left, but only thought Of thee escaping and our house revived. What can I do? — how hide from Artemis? — And how put off the King when he perceives But empty air upon the pedestal? I am afraid — no, not of death itself But of the interim, the dying hope. . . . If we might take the Image and be quick And flee together on thy leaping ship ! — But we should fail. Yet if I stay to hide Thy flight, when the discovery is made 224 Iphigenia in Tauris — The ravished Image ! — Ah but death is good If by my dying thou returnest home . . . If a man die — a house, a name, is lost. But if a woman die — what does it matter? Orestes. It mattered when my mother died. If now Thy death were added, I should have to take Two deaths upon my head. Instead of that, Let come what may, I mean to share thy fate — Alive in Greece, or here beside thee dead. But it is evident the Gods are with us. If Artemis opposed, should I have been Expressly sent by Her own Brother here To bring Her Image back? She wishes it — For in the very Temple of the Image As a good omen I have seen thy face! O what does all this mean but our return? Iphigenia, How can we steal the Image and not die? Orestes. Can we not kill the King? Iphigenia. And dare the Gods Again ? — for he was kind to me. Iphigenia in Tauris 225 Orestes. And yet It might be dared — if it would save our lives ! Iphigenia. I like thy boldness. But it cannot be. Orestes. Shall I stay hidden in the shrine till dark? Iphigenia. And then at night escape? Orestes. Are we not thieves? The day for honest men, the night for thieves ! Iphigenia. We could not pass the guards. Orestes. What can we do then ? Iphigenia. Perhaps we — Orestes. What? 226 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. May use our own misfortune! Orestes. Women have ways of changing ill to good. Iphigenia, I shall announce thee as a matricide! . . . Orestes. If there is good in that, make use of it! Iphigenia. As one unworthy to be sacrificed ! Orestes. Thou meanest ? — ah but I can guess ! Iphigenia. Unclean, Unpurified and unacceptable! Orestes. But how does that attain our purpose? Iphigenia. Pure Sea-water must be used to cleanse thy sin! IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS 227 Orestes. But that would mean the Image left behind And all our labor unfulfilled. Iphigenia. She too, Having been touched by thy approach, must be Washed clean, the Image too! Orestes. And might it be — There, by the inlet — ? Iphigenia. Where thy ship is moored. Orestes. And who will bring the Image? — none but thee? Iphigenia. For none may ever carry it but me. Orestes. And Pylades ? — is he a murderer too ? Iphigenia. He aided thee. He also must be cleansed. Orestes. A story for the guards — but for the King? 228 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. In any case I could not keep it from him. So he shall hear it and shall be persuaded. Orestes. The oarsmen shall be ready for their orders, But here ashore thine is the sole command. Yet let me ask one question. Will these women Be true to thee and not betray thee? Pray For their assistance. Urge them and convince them. Thou, as a woman, knowest woman well. Then use the power of thy need of pity . . . And, after that, let Heaven's high will be done! Iphigenia. friends who have been near and dear to me, 1 trust you! On you depends my destiny. Whether I keep or lose my home, my kin. Woman to women, I appeal to you. For, knowing our own weakness, we are bound To feel a woman's need and to defend Our sex and to be loyal. Will you not Be silent now for my sake? This is all. Yes, all I ask of you, — only your silence. By honoring us, do yourselves honor too! See how a single chance is left us three! . . . Discovery means death. Escape means home! If I escape, shall I not work for you Till I deliver you ? — till thou and thou Iphigenia in Tauris 229 Shall join me in my joy at home in Hellas — And thou and thou ! I pray thee by thy hand ; Thee by thy cheek ; thy knees ; thee by thy home ; Thy father and thy mother; thee, thyself A mother with a child away from thee, I pray thee by that child : — be merciful ! O which of you consent? — and which refuse, When to refuse us means betraying us? The First Maiden. count upon us, Lady, on our love — And go thy way content! By Zeus we swear unbroken loyalty. Iphigenia. 1 bless you for those words. I wish you joy. (To Orestes and Pylades) Now do thy part — and thine. Enter the Temple. The King will soon be here to make inquiry Whether the strangers have been sacrificed. (Orestes and Pylades go into the Temple) Grim Goddess, having saved me once before, Now save me with my brother and his friend, Lest Phoebus be disproved because of Thee 230 Iphigenia in Tauris And men forsake His oracle! O come In gracious might away from this bleak place, Away from gloom — to Athens and to glory ! (She follows into the Temple) The Second Maiden. sad-voiced ocean-bird, heard in the foam Low by the rocky ledge Singing a note unhappy hearts can hear, The song of separation from thy mate, The moan of separation, 1 have no wings to seek like thee, but I Can sing a song like thee, A song of separation from my mates. At home in Hellas now are gathering My kinsmen. Artemis Blesses the new-born from Her Cynthian hill And soothes the mothers with the cooling palm And bay and olive-tree. Where once Latona loved the winding streams And watched the rounded pools White with the song-like motion of the swans. Alas! the falling tears, the towers fallen, The taking of our towns! Alas! the clash of bright and angry spears That captured me aboard an alien ship ! — Iphigenia in Tauris 231 Whence I was sold away To be an exile here, a handmaiden With Agamemnon's daughter, Doomed to the bloody rites of Artemis. The Fourth Maiden. And at these altars where the sacrifice Is not of sheep but men, I envy those unhappy from their birth; For to be bred and seasoned in misfortune Is to be iron to it. . . . O there is something in the pang of change More than the heart can bear — Unhappily remembering happiness. The First Maiden. Lady, a ship is here to take thee home, And in the rowers' ears Pan shall be sounding all his pointed notes, Great mountains echoing to his little reed. And Phoebus on his lyre Shall strike profound the seven strings and sing To thee of Attica, Shall sing to thee of home and lead thee there. Oar after oar shall dip and carry thee, Lady, away from me. Oar after oar shall push the empty sea Wider, wider, leaving me lonely here. 232 Iphigenia in Tauris Leaving me here without thee. And forward over the unceasing bow Thy sail shall faster run, Ever refilling with the unspent wind. The Second Maiden. to go swiftly like the winged sun Upon his dazzling track And not to let my golden light be folded Until I touched my house, my roof, my room! Then I should go again To noble marriages and take my place In the bright company. Give them my hands and circle round and dance. And I should strive to be the loveliest In all my looks and ways, In my unrivalled brightness of attire And in the motion of my hands and feet; And my embroidered veil 1 should hold closely round me as I danced And I should hide my cheek In the soft shadow of my clustering curls. (Enter King Thoas with Soldiers) Thoas. Where is the keeper of the Temple-gates, The maid of Hellas? Is her labor done? — Iphigenia in Tauris 233 Are the victims' bodies burning in the shrine? A Maiden. See where she comes, to answer thee herself. (Iphigenia comes out of the Temple, carrying the Image) Thoas. What does this mean, daughter of Agamemnon? Why hast thou brought the Image from its place? Iphigenia. King, stand back! — stand back beyond the threshold ! Thoas. Is it some new observance in the Temple? Iphigenia. Stay back, I tell thee, from Her holy presence! Thoas. 1 will stay back, but tell me, tell me why Thou bearest Her like this. Iphigenia. The sacrifice Thou gavest to the Goddess was unclean. 234 Iphigenia in Tauris Thoas. How dost thou know? — what makes thee think — Iphigenia. She turned Away from them, — away when they approached. Thoas. Might it not be some tremor of the ground That moved Her. Iphigenia. No. By Her own will She moved — And even for a moment shut Her eyes. Thoas. Because of blood upon the strangers' hands? Iphigenia. It was Her divination of their guilt. Thoas. Whose blood ? A Taurian's blood ? — killed on the beach ? Iphigenia. The guilt was with them when they came; the stain Of killing their own kin! IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS 235 Thoas. Their kin? What kin? Iphigenia. A mother ! — whom they murdered in cold blood ! Thoas. O great Apollo, what barbarian Would do the thing these Greeks have done? Iphigenia. But Greeks Disowned and homeless, hunted out of Hellas. Thoas. Even then why bring the Image here? Iphigenia. Defiled, She must be purified, be touched again By Her own firmament. Thoas. How dost thou know So well the nature of their infamy? Iphigenia. Seeing Her turn away, I asked them why. 236 Iphigenia in Tauris Thoas. Thou art a Greek, quick-witted, a true Greek! Iphigenia. They too are Greeks. They thought they could appease me With pleasant news. Thoas. Of Argos? Iphigenia. Of my brother, News of Orestes. Thoas. To inveigle thee! Iphigenia. And of my father — that he lives and prospers. Thoas. Thou hadst no doubt, however, of thy duty? Iphigenia. Has not all Hellas well deserved my hate? Thoas. What must we do with them? IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS 237 Iphigenia. Observe the law. Thoas. Thou meanest with the water and the knife? Iphigenia. First fully cleanse them of their sin. Thoas. With water From a bubbling spring or from the salty sea? Iphigenia. The sea is the absolvent of all evil. Thoas. The sea would better please the Goddess then? Iphigenia. And me. Thoas. The breakers almost reach these walls. Iphigenia. But certain of the rites are secret rites. Thoas. Then choose thy place and fear no trespasser. 238 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia. And I must purify the Image too. Thoas. Have they contaminated even Her? Iphigenia. So that I had to bring Her from Her place. Thoas. Thanks for thy reverential care. Iphigenia. O King, Command the help I need. Thoas. Ask — it is given. Iphigenia. Then let the strangers be well bound. Thoas. Why that? Where could they think to flee? Iphigenia. Beware of Greeks! IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS 239 Thoas. (To his Servants) Go, bind them. Iphigenia. Have them brought to me. Thoas. And bring them. Iphigenia. But hang a heavy veil over their heads. Thoas. For they must not be witnessed by the sun. Iphigenia. Send soldiers with me. Thoas. Choose thy guard from these. Iphigenia. And let a herald warn all citizens. Thoas. Of what? Iphigenia. To stay indoors till this is done. 240 Iphigenia in Tauris Thoas. Lest they as well might suffer the contagion? Iphigenia. From matricide. Thoas. Go tell the herald this. Iphigenia. And anyone I care for — Thoas. Meaning — me ? Iphigenia. Him above all I caution against harm, Not to come near. Thoas. Thou carest what we do. Iphigenia. Thou seest. Thoas. And what thou dost means much to us. Iphigenia. Wait here, O King — thy share is in the Temple. Iphigenia in Tauris 241 Thoas. To — Iphigenia. Purify it with the smoke of torches. Thoas. It shall be fragrant, priestess, to receive thee. Iphigenia. When they come by — Thoas. What must I do? Iphigenia. Hold up Thy robe and look away. Thoas. From the contagion. Iphigenia. And if I seem delayed — Thoas. How shall I tell? Iphigenia. Be not surprised, but patient. 242 IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS Thoas. Take thy time And serve the Goddess to the uttermost. Iphigenia. If ii but end as I desire ! — Thoas. And I! Iphigenia. Ah, here they come ! — the strangers and the robes, And lambs whose blood shall offset other blood, And burning torches and all instruments Purification needs for them and Her. Away, O citizens, be not polluted! You keepers of the gates, keep clean your hands! Men who would marry, women who would bear, Be not polluted ! — look away — away ! Virgin Goddess, if these murderers Be cleansed as I would have them cleansed ana Thou Be brought as well where I would have Thee brought, Thy Temple shall be clean and we be blest ! 1 say no more — but Thou and those who know May render the conclusion of my prayer. I Iphigenia in Tauris 243 {The procession passes out. Thoas enters the Temple) The Third Maiden. Latona bore one day a golden Child, O Artemis, Thy Brother, Phoebus, the darling of the vales of Delos — The First Maiden. Whose little fingers hovered on the harp And pulled at archery. The Third Maiden. Leaving His birthplace, to Parnassus' top The Mother brought Her Boy — The Second Maiden. Where Dionysus flings the waterfall. The Third Maiden. There hidden coiling in the leafy laurels A serpent, with bright scales And blood-red eyes, a creature born of Earth, Guarded the cave that held Earth's oracle. Phoebus, beholding it, leaped up Out of His Mother's arms, a little Child, And struck the serpent dead — The Second Maiden. And on that day began His prophecies. 244 Iphigenia in Tauris The Fourth Maiden. Phoebus Apollo, Thou hast won the throne, The tripod of the truth! And in the very centre of the earth Thou hearest wisdom; and Thy voice conveys, Accompanied by all The run and ripple of Castalian springs, The inmost oracles That ever Heaven whispered to the Earth. The Third Maiden. But Earth had wished the oracles to go To Themis, Her own daughter, And in Her anger bred a band of dreams That in the night should be oracular To men, foretelling truth. And this impaired the dignity of Phoebus And of His oracles — The Second Maiden. And the baby God went hurrying to Zeus, Coaxed with His little hands and begged of Zeus To send the dreams away . . . The First Maiden. And He was very pleased to have His son Come straight to Him with troubles. And His head Decided with a nod i IPHIGENIA IN TaURIS 245 That men should turn from the prophetic dark And every haunting shape — The Fourth Maiden. And listen only to the lips of Light. A Messenger. (Entering breathless) O all you ministers and temple-guards, Where is King Thoas gone? Open the gates And call King Thoas out! O call the King! The First Maiden. If we may ask unbidden — is something wrong? The Messenger. The two young men have broken free and fled, With Agamemnon's daughter aiding them — And on their ship have taken Artemis! The First Maiden. A likely story ! — Wouldst thou find the King, He left the Temple but a moment since. The Messenger. Where was he bound ? 246 Iphigenia in Tauris The First Maiden. I do not know which way. The Second Maiden. Go look for him, go find him with thy story! The Messenger. O treacherous women! You would put me off, You are in the plot yourselves! The Third Maiden. Art thou gone mad? What are these men to us? Quick! To the Palace ! The Messenger. Not till I know to my own satisfaction. Not till I rouse the keepers of the Shrine To answer me! Ho! You inside! Unbar The door! The King, if he is there, tell him A messenger has come with evil news! (He beats at the door) Thoas. (Appearing at the Temple-Door} Who makes this outcry, desecrates the door And shakes this holy place? Iphigenia in Tauris 247 The Messenger. Their fault ! — their fault ! They told me thou wert absent from the Temple, They put me off from finding thee. Thoas. But why? Why should they wish — The Messenger. Let that come afterward. O listen first to what I have to tell ! — Iphigenia who was priestess here Has joined the strangers, fled with them and taken Artemis' Image ! — the cleansing was a lie ! Thoas. Unthinkable ! — What evil influence — The Messenger. The chance to save Orestes — yes, Orestes! Thoas. Orestes? — which Orestes? Not her brother? The Messenger. Yes, whom the Goddess wanted for Her altar. Thoas. It is impossible, I cannot grasp it! 248 Iphigenia in Tauris The Messenger. But do not stop to grasp it ! — listen first, Consider what to do ! — and then command What means may intercept and capture them! Thoas. There is no danger in these Taurian Seas Of their escaping. For the way is shut — Stationed and cordoned with a ring of ships! The Messenger. No sooner had we reached the bend of shore Which hid their ship, than Agamemnon's daughter Made signs to us to drop the rope that bound The men, to leave them and fall back. It seemed That she was ready to perform the rites. To light the mystic flame and bless the sea. She took the rope herself and followed them Still further. And we felt presentiment Of something wrong. But what were we to do ? We heard her voice chant a high mystery Of phrases in an unknown tongue, seeming To us the ceremonial incantation, The ritual of purifying sin. And then we waited a long time. At last The fear occurred to us that they had burst Their bonds, had killed her and escaped. But still We waited, fearing with an equal fear To see what was forbidden us to see . . . Iphigenia in Tauris 249 Until with one accord agreeing to it We disobeyed and went to find them. There We saw the ship from Hellas near the shore, And fitted in the tholes were fifty oars Like feathers in a wing, and just astern The two youths boarding her. Some held the prow With poles thrust in the water, others brought The anchor up. The rest had made of rope A ladder hanging from the rail. By this We knew their scheme. And we laid hold at once Of the Greek maid and seized the trailing ladder And pulled their rudder-oar away from them To cripple them and cried : " What treachery Is this? — to steal our priestess and our God? Who art thou and whose son to raid our land And bear our priestess off ? " And he replied : " I am Orestes, son of Agamemnon, I am her brother. Now you know the truth. And she is bound for Greece, out of which land I lost her long ago — bound home ! " We clung To her and meant to drag her from her friends To thee; which is the way I came by these, This bruise — and this. They struck my face both sides. They had no weapons, we had none. We used Our fists and they their fists, even their feet With kicks well-aimed at us from where they stood 250 Iphigenia in Tauris Above us — at our heads and sides. We fought Till we were breathless. Then, with bruises And cuts and blood-filled eyes, we climbed the cliff And, from our vantage, pelted them with stones — Till the Greek archers had arranged their bows And kept us a distance with their arrows. Then when a giant wave bore them inshore, Orestes quickly lifted up his sister Out of the rush of it. Holding her high On his left shoulder, plunging stride by stride, He caught the ladder, swung aboard the ship And held her safe on deck. And she, she held ^ ■= She had it still — the Image out of Heaven, The Image of the Daughter of high Zeus! Then a glad call exulted through the ship: " O mariners of Hellas, grip your oars And clip the sea to foam! O let your arms Be strong, for we have won, have won, have won What we set out to win ! We have defied The jagged Clashing Rocks — and we have won!" A shout of joy responded and the ship Quivered with dipping oars and shot ahead. But this was only while the shelter lasted; For at the harbor-mouth a high wave met her And threw her off her course. She turned about. Caught by the stormy wind, until her stern Was foremost and her prow toward shore. They tugged The oars, rallied and strained — but every time Iphigenia in Tauris 251 They brought her round, the deep wave dragged her back Again. And Agamemnon's daughter stood And prayed: "O save me, Artemis, from this Unhappy place — to Hellas ! — and forgive My theft! As Thou, O Goddess, lovest M^ell Phoebus, Thy brother, shall I not love mine?" The sailors' praises echoing her prayer. They bent their bodies and their great bare arms And shoulders, swaying like the sea, To the boatswain's cry. But closer to the cliff. Closer and closer still they drew. And some Sprang out into the sea. And some began Attempts to fasten hold on the sharp shore With ropes. And then our men despatched me here, O King, to tell thee of this thing. ... So come With chains and cords — for while the sea is high. There is no earthly chance of their escape! Poseidon, God of the Sea, remembering Troy, The city that He loved, confounds today The wretched children of her enemies And will deliver up to thee and thine The son and daughter of the King of Argos — That daughter who, forgetful now of Aulis, Betrays the Goddess who was kind to her. {The Messenger goes out) 252 Iphigenia in Tauris The First Maiden. O Lady, Lady ! — O alas for thee ! In Taurian hands again, Thou and thy brother surely now shall die! Thoas. Come, citizens, and be uncivilized! Leap on your horses! Whip them to the beach! Wait with me there until a wave shall break That ship from Hellas. Then — be after them! And hunt them down, each damned dog of them! Do this for Artemis. And some of you Go launch my galleys, lest one man of them Should die untortured! Run them down by sea And land! Go hurl them from the cliffs! O catch them, kill them, crucify them, end them! And as for you, you miserable women, Count on the punishment you have deserved By treachery ! I have not time for you — With this to do. But O when this is done! {In the confusion appearSj with instant dominion, Pallas Athena) Athena. Be calm. King Thoas! What is this pursuit? Hold back and listen to Athena's word. I Iphigenia in Tauris 253 Hold back the soldiers, hold them every one. Apollo sent Orestes to this land To free him from the Fiends of punishment And told him, through the oracle, to bring Iphigenia home again to Argos And likewise to my land the holy Image. . . . That is my word. And let me follow it With news that this Orestes thou wouldst hunt Is gliding on a comfortable sea Made easy by Poseidon for my sake. Orestes! — thou canst hear a God far-off — Obey me! Take thy sister and the Image Safely to Hellas. Go to God-built Athens And, passing through, go forward to the end Of Attica. Find there a holy place Close to Carystus' hill, a place called Halae. There build a Temple. There set up the Image. Name it for Tauris, to immortalize Thy penitence and thy deliverance, Thy labors and thy love. Let men acclaim The Taurian Artemis, brought there by thee. And let this be the law: When they observe Her festival ... in token of thy fate The priest must hold against a human throat The sharp blade of his knife and touch the edge With blood, then cease — meaning that life, not death. Is the true element of sacrifice. 254 Iphigenia in Tauris Iphigenia ! — there are steps for thee Hewn to the rocky Shrine of Artemis At Brauron. There the keys be in thy keeping. There shalt thou die, be buried and receive Upon thy grave most honorable gifts, The purely-woven raiment of dead mothers Who honorably died in giving birth. O Thoas, I command thee, send to Hellas These women. They were true. — I saved thee once, Orestes, when on Ares' hill I judged thee And voted for thee when the votes were equal. Now let it be the law that he who earns An equally-divided verdict wins His case. Therefore go safely from this land, son of Agamemnon. And thou, Thoas, Be thou content to put thy wrath away. Thoas. He who is discontented when the Gods Have given judgment — is a fool. For my part, Goddess, I bear no grudge against Orestes Nor against her who took away the Image. 1 make no opposition to a God, For where would be the use? So let them go In peace and set the Image in Thy land. These women too may go — they shall be sent To Hellas to be happy. At Thy word, Iphigenia in Tauris 255 I bid my ships turn back from the pursuit . . . Behold my spirit and my spear bowed down. Athena. Well-spoken! For thy spirit learns a law Greater than thou and greater than the Gods. O winds of heaven, blow Orestes home — And I will guide him on his way to Athens, Guarding Thy Image, Artemis, my Sister. The First Maiden. Fare well in your good-fortune! May it bring Joy to you always. The Fourth Maiden. Pallas Athena, blessed is Thy name In Heaven as on the earth. Let us be mindful that Thy words are wise And welcome and unlooked-for and complete And let us do Thy will, O Conqueror of hatred and of fear! . . . The more in Thee we lose Our lives, the more we find our life in Thee. THE END r\n ^Jl^A vV^J*?*^^ ,^17^ t