University of Virginia Library

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

Ante-room in the house of Hilarianus.
Servants bearing amphoræ, &c.
Enter Varro.
VARRO.
Come, stir! How now? take you the wine for milk?
A goodly churn were you! Here, give it me;
They're calling out for more.

FIRST SERVANT.
What! Hila—

VARRO.
Silence!

FIRST SERVANT.
Hilari—'tis a jolly boy! our Hilari—

VARRO.
Wilt hold thy tongue?

FIRST SERVANT.
I can't hold any thing.

VARRO.
There—try the ground; hold that! Why, he would bawl
His “jolly boy” into our master's face.

SECOND SERVANT.
Nay, for that matter, it is there already,
And of his doubling it would come no harm;
The governor would but look it back at him.

VARRO.
Not if he's made to wait the wine he lacks.

[Exit.
Enter Barac (who attempts to pass).
SECOND SERVANT.
Holloa! where are you going?

BARAC.
With tidings to the præfect. I must see him.

SECOND SERVANT.
See him! 'tis easy said; for, seeing you,—
Ay, ay, he'll do the matter handsomely;
See two of you; but each one seeming t'other,
To keep him out of knowing which is which.

BARAC.
Once let me gain his ear—

SECOND SERVANT.
His ear, you think,
Meantime my own may undergo a twinge.
Have you no salve to mollify the smart?

BARAC.
Enough to satisfy.

SECOND SERVANT.
That's as it may be;
For here are tongues as well as ears to pay.

BARAC.
There's for both pains and silence.

SECOND SERVANT.
That will do.—
(To Servants.)
Do ye hear?—you don't hear!

SERVANTS.
No; we understand.

SECOND SERVANT
(to BARAC).
Take you that passage to the left,—a way
Where's ne'er a toe to tread upon your own;
'Twill bring you to a door that opes direct
Upon the chair of our good governor.

BARAC.
The way is plain?

SECOND SERVANT.
Plain!—(Barac goes in).
As that thou'rt an ass—
To pay me for no worth; thyself a kicking,
Perhaps. He knows his business, and I mine.
Now is our time;—all of us to the cellar!

FIRST SERVANT
(on the ground).
Hoa! hoa!

SECOND SERVANT.
Here, bear a hand, lest double eyes
Be match'd with double tongue.

[Exeunt Servants.

SCENE II.

A banquet. Hilarianus, Camus, Lentulus, Ser- vilius, Naso, Stellio, and others, seated. Music sounds.
HILARIANUS.
Louder, there; louder! Ply them with more wine;
Their strings and pipes are dry. Jove! they shall chide
E'en while they welcome. Naso, what's your plea
For such a tardiness?

NASO.
In the ante-room
Lentulus met a love of his, and stay'd
To hold a little converse.

HILARIANUS.
Ha! is she gone?
We'll have her in.

NASO.
Then no word out of him,
So deep enamour'd is he.

HILARIANUS.
She is a rare one.

LENTULUS.
I did but ask a moment of thy mirror.

HILARIANUS.
Ha, ha! Nay, Lentulus, laugh those who win;
Thou hast a mistress ever smiles upon thee—
I doubt if Naso there could say the same.

SERVILIUS.
Our worthy governor! 'tis ever thus,
We know not which to praise,—his wine or wit.

HILARIANUS.
If thou didst have as little of my wine
As of my wit, thou'dst be a soberer man
Than I am like to let thee be, Servilius.
Come, fill! and take thy fill, and praise thy fill;
For never did the god for me—bright Bacchus
(Camus, with reverence to almighty Jove),
Borrow his beams of Sol for better deed;
Ha! sine cerâ—look you, that's the thing.

LENTULUS.
I have some drinking-vessels newly come
From Italy; they are of rare device.
One hath a dancing faun for pedestal;
The eyes, the face, the limbs, are so on the move,
You wonder how the cup escapes the trick.

HILARIANUS.
Ha! that's a fair conceit: I like the hint,
To take good wine from out bad custody.

LENTULUS.
Another thus, borne on th' uprais'd arm
Of a bewitching Venus, who, in sport,
Would lift the cup beyond the reach of Cupid.
With cunning grace she turns in search for him;
While he, as sportive, flies up to the brim,
And there doth lip the draught with up-turn'd wing:
Not the first time Cupid hath serv'd as handle
For a flowing bowl.

SERVILIUS.
Capital!

LENTULUS.
A third is—

HILARIANUS.
Nay, Lentulus, thine own doth stand untouch'd.—
(Aside.)
This choking prose of hes and shes!—Sing, Stellio!

STELLIO.
Give me a moment.—(To Naso)
There is no song in me.
Yon silent, sourest-visag'd priest—'tis he
Who pinches all the music out of us.

A GUEST.
Oh, fear not him; look at the wine he takes!

NASO.
Nay, so much wine coupled with so much silence
Says, beware!

STELLIO.
Why hath the præfect such a guest?

NASO.
For skeleton unto the feast, perchance.

STELLIO.
Where is the veil?

NASO.
Hilarianus knows,
Once have a priest for enemy, good bye
To peace! Brave feasts, and he unbidden!
You were a wit to find a better scheme
To kindle up his wrath.

STELLIO.
Why shame such bounties?
Such a starvation-face is a rebuke.

NASO.
Is that your quarrel? Why, you take away
All credit from the only thing where he
Doth fail in semblance to fulfil in deed.
For me, I like to see him where he sits
Beside our bright-faced præfect; 'tis to look
At once upon the full moon and the edge.

HILARIANUS.
Now, Stellio, your moment's gone; dash into it.

STELLIO
(sings).
Cymbals for me!

HILARIANUS.
Ha, ha! that is the song. Cymbals, strike up!

[Flourish of cymbals.
STELLIO
(sings).

[Another flourish.
HILARIANUS.
Ha! ha! 'tis bravely sung. Here, keep this cup.

Enter Varro.
VARRO.
My lord, a messenger from Rome—

HILARIANUS.
Tell him
Freely to sleep after his journey. Go!
Where was I? Ha! the cup;—'tis thine, good Stellio.
No beauty—not like those of Lentulus;
For it belongs to one who never cares
What the cup be, so that good wine doth fill it.
'Tis gold, and when full brimm'd, the feast half over,
No light one, on my conscience. Quick, another.
And now, to give thy song its worthiest crown,
Rise all of ye, I pour libation out
Unto our queen of Carthage. So she was
And is, though one doth ne'er get sight of her;
Vivia Perpetua—the queen of Carthage!
[Barac appears.
Why, what black rogue are you? Here, knaves, a bowl;
Drink, and give 'count with brighter face. Thy beard
Shall be the torch else.

BARAC.
Kindle other fires,
Shall warm you double-wise.

CAMUS.
I know the man;
Let him speak on.

BARAC.
Better confer apart.

HILARIANUS.
And best, that you
Sluice back your speech into your throat, and then
Sneak quietly out. How you came in, the gods
Do know; not I.

CAMUS.
Dismiss him not.
Take thou my counsel, præfect; listen to him;
The omnipotent Jove doth oftentime decree
The voice of Fate to speak for years in moments,
E'en by an oracle so mean as this.

HILARIANUS.
Good friends, scarce gone ere I am back again;
Make it a merrier time amongst ye all,
And I'll forgive ye, though ye say my loss
Was so much gain.

STELLIO.
See you, the priest hath done it!

[Camus, Hilarianus, and Barac, come forward.
CAMUS.
Speak freely.

HILARIANUS.
How or what, so it be brief.

BARAC.
I bring you certain knowledge, and will guide
To where they meet, within a burial-cave
At twilight, Christians who—

HILARIANUS.
Oh, the old story!
Enough; there lies your way.—Come, Camus.

BARAC.
Yet,
There's wealth for you to seize—pow'r to be crush'd.

CAMUS.
A steady witness stands within his eye.
Hearken, lord governor! Our sacred coffers,
Wherewith we serve the gods, are poorly grac'd:
You have demands upon you that 'twere wise
To have well answer'd.

HILARIANUS.
Ay, but all the rich,
I know, long since are pluck'd; and they, the poor
Who help'd us pluck them, rotted; save perhaps
A bone or two clean pick'd by hungry vultures.
Such work I always hate. The emperor
Should pay us better, and prevent the need.
Take hence thy charnel-stories. Twilight, man!
And in a burial-cave, March in its nones!
If this the worship that their God exacts,
The service sure of such a deity
Is hard enough without being punish'd for it.
My marrow shivers at the naked thought!—
What, Camus! fear their making converts, eh?
Leave we this cloud, and back into yon sunshine.

CAMUS.
Not yet.

HILARIANUS.
Some wine here, Stellio—any body.

BARAC.
What wouldst thou say—and, mark me! I have proof—
If I should tell thee that thy queen of Carthage,
Whose name but now was ringing in thy roof,
Was one among them?

HILARIANUS.
Oh, the man is mad!

[Drinks.
CAMUS.
No more than thou, nay, less; let thine eye see
The gold beneath that wine.—Speak on!—thy proof?

BARAC.
Long since I chanc'd to know (how, matters not)
That certain slaves within the house of Vivius
Had by a busy meddler 'mongst these Christians—
One Saturus by name—been made his converts;
One of these slaves hath sometime been preferr'd
Unto Perpetua's household; and of late
This convert-making man hath found his way
Over her threshold. I have seen him cross it;
Have watch'd them walk together in her gardens,
Screen'd by a fountain close upon their path;
Have heard the cursed name upon their lips
Of him who help'd to strip us of our glory;
(I am a Jew, so you may trust my hate)—
Of him whose name, unless you check its pow'r,
Will do the like for you and all your gods.

CAMUS.
(Aside.)
There could not come a fitter time for this:
The festival of Geta close at hand;
The father, he is wealthy; and, besides,
Hath too much sway over the citizens—
Too little of submission unto us.
The daughter weak, weak as all women are,
And beautiful, as would all women were!—
Come, procurator, sir, Hilarianus,
You must bestir in this, and promptly too;
The emperor's edict hath too long repos'd;
The people's pleasures are concern'd herein;
Examples must be made—the gods require it!

HILARIANUS.
I see it all! The rheumatism, too,
That cursed seat of justice always gives me—
The hours I've lost with their infernal squabbles!
And for your doings in the amphitheatre,
Confound them all! Give me a quiet life;
Or if you must have savage beasts for sport,
Sleek them to fit our Bacchanalia; then
Harness them safe unto a car, shall draw
Our jolly god through crowds all ivy-crown'd,
With Pan to lead them on to sound of reeds,
Cymbals and flutes, and all the instruments.
And you shall be Silenus; and we'll have
My queen of Carthage there for Semele;
And I'll be Jupiter—by Jupiter!
Ha! ha! You frown. Ah, you're a cunning priest;
Methinks (with reverence to almighty Jove),
You were not loath to play his part in it!
What said I? I'm profane; the gods forgive us!

CAMUS.
That signet—so—now back unto the guests
Are gaping, greedy for thee, at thy back.—
Follow me, Jew; you have the instant proof.

BARAC.
Sure;—but my reward?

CAMUS.
By all my gods, equal to thy desert!

[Exeunt Camus and Barac; Hilarianus reels back to the table; a shout; scene closes.

SCENE III.

A guard-house. Soldiers gaming; a gladiator and others looking on.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Good luck, good rattle-bones! and for a wish,
I'll back my wager;—here's your victory!

SECOND SOLDIER.
Who is your match?

GLADIATOR.
I neither know nor care.

SECOND SOLDIER.
What! sulky?—eh!

FIRST SOLDIER.
Hurra! Venus again!
Smile up!—we win the day.

GLADIATOR.
Where is the use?
Three times I've play'd for life, for life or death,
And won my game; but he who fights with me,
Although he has it, up go all their thumbs;
And up stands he alive, and walks away.
They call this sport—I call it make-believe;
Tames us to fight like children 'stead of men,
Filling our school with craven beaten slaves.
Give me the good old ways. If I were down,
I'd have my death, my due; no thumbing me,
Except the backward way.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Well done, my boy;
My wager 'gainst the world. Were all like you,
Then should we have a festival were worth.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Not till we have a præfect wide awake.

THIRD SOLDIER.
Order there!—order! We are of the state,
And must support its dignity.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Ay, true;
It needs a heavy prop.

Enter a Lictor, with Barac.
LICTOR.
Up, soldiers!—ho!
To your feet. Ready, and out! Here's news to stir ye;
Service that's sport, and better sport beyond.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Who is your slinker?

LICTOR.
Learn the trick of him;
And slink like moles, with eyes as keen as lynxes,
Towards the cave east of the aqueduct.
First to the market-place to hear the edict,
And then to seize them at their sport—a covey
Of Christians!

SOLDIERS.
Ha! huzza!

BARAC.
No time to lose;
The trap hath open doors; they may escape.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Put up your tongue; we'll pounce upon them sweetly:
Look you, that is the spring.

BARAC.
Hold! hold!

SECOND SOLDIER.
No tiger
In the arena—

LICTOR.
See you harm them not;
Bring them alive!

FIRST SOLDIER.
I would not rob the beasts
By rubbing off their bloom.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Was e'er such luck?
Ha, sulky!—they'll divide the sport with you.

GLADIATOR.
Beware they try it not on you. I saw
A Christian once strangle in the arena
A savage wolf. Lean, lithe, and swift as sure,
The creature sprang at him with hungry howl;
His eye a ruddy fire, his crimson laps
Drawn tightly up above a shew of teeth
That glitter'd joyful at their coming meal.
The man stood still to wait him (as the death),
Nor made or sign or move; when in a twink
His hands had grasp'd the wolf about the throat—
The next, he dropp'd him dead into the sand
Lightly, as one might throw away a weed;
And yet they slew that man, and spare our cowards!

LICTOR.
Come, all is ready.

FIRST SOLDIER
(to Barac).
Lead you on, old mole!
Don't draw too far ahead into the dark.

LICTOR.
Steady; and follow up.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Seashore; early twilight; mouth of a burial-cave.
Vivia and Felicitas watching.
FELICITAS.
This tarrying, with the strangeness of the place,
Dear lady, sorteth not with one like thee.

VIVIA.
There is a spirit haunts about the cave
That holds me rooted, as I were a plant
Had found a rest beneath the rocky arch.
No strangeness is there, save that it is strange
I should feel none.

FELICITAS.
Think you that Saturus
Would choose the seaward way?—some new-fall'n rock
Hath thwarted him, and sent him through the city.

VIVIA.
How still and black it lies!—death without hope!
While yonder red, unsteady pharos-light
Gleams like an earthborn and earth-dying joy,
Fitfully wavering with each passing breath:
The sea beneath, its restless chronicler,
Time's mighty clepsydra, that marks his pace
By wave on wave emptied upon the shore.
Brief joys, light flames, that scarce do burn ere die;
Blackness of death, and restlessness of time,
If that were all.—
The heav'ns! Up to the heav'ns for hope, for light.
Yon crescent moon, and those intelligent stars,
Sure they are in communion. Are they rapt
In the eternity they promise?—these
Ling'ring (while all those countless multitudes
Have left the sky unto the coming dawn),
Lost in their converse deep. Ye beautiful!
That draw up what was pain from out the heart,
And fill the empty void with heavenly peace.
For ever there! Ye are the very same
That o'er the lowly home in Nazareth
Have nearer come, to light the silent vigil
Of Him who slept not, while he sought the way
To bring our souls to everlasting rest.

FELICITAS.
Lady, it is an awful thing to think
That all yon sleeping city should be heathen.

VIVIA.
And yet the stars of heav'n shine over all.
What are ye, that ye clasp us to your light?
Too far for knowledge, yet how near for love!
Ye sing to us. A harmony divine
Goes on the while I look, as though I listen'd,
As though ye heard and answer'd to the choir
Of seraphs praising round the throne of God—
Glory to God alike their song and yours:
O earth, hast thou no echo for such strain?
What comes? Voices there are—no! not i' the air;
It sings beneath my feet.

FELICITAS.
Lady, thy fancy sings.

VIVIA.
Nay, bend thine ear, and listen.

FELICITAS.
True; 'tis they
Within the cave: sure Saturus is there.

VIVIA.
Hush!—'tis his footstep—fleet, yet even-pac'd;
I know it well.

Enter Saturus.
SATURUS.
Here!—ye have waited long?

VIVIA.
'Twere meet we wait for thee, not thou for us.

SATURUS.
Pause ere ye enter; for within this hour
I have both heard and seen that peril waits.
If thou didst know the passage to yon cave,
That leads to life in Christ, were pav'd with death,
Wouldst enter it?

VIVIA.
I would.

FELICITAS.
What hath befall'n?

SATURUS.
Quickly within, and there thou shalt know all.
The rock is hewn into descending steps;
They are rough—plant firm your foot; there's light beyond.

[They enter the cave.

SCENE V.

A cave of sepulchre dimly lighted.
Tertius, Pomponius, Saturninus, Secundulus, Testus, and others.
(They sing.)
Enter Saturus, Vivia, and Felicitas.

TERTIUS.
What voice ariseth like a flame amongst us?

SATURUS.
A fiery voice is calling from without,
The voice of danger.

SECUNDULUS.
Lo! our teacher comes.

SATURUS.
To bring a twofold gift—knowledge of peril,
And new example how to meet it bravely.
Say I aright?

VIVIA.
I will not fail.

REVOCATUS.
Know you?

FELICITAS.
Listen.

SATURUS.
My Christian brothers! Say we had a friend,
A friend ne'er seen, but whose surpassing love
So cleav'd to us, that he did live for us,
Did die for us, left legacy with us,—
A promise rich, of an enduring home
In a far, happy country; where the days
No more shall darken with the coming shadow
Of a toil-burden'd morrow; and our woes
Shall lay them down to never-waking sleep;
Where for this cavern dim, Death's treasury—
Who revels, grinning like a miser gaunt
Over his gotten dust,—we shall behold
Him, that dear friend, who gives at once to us
Life, light, and glorious immortality!—
Would not the fate be welcome, whatsoe'er
Would bear us to such home, to such a friend?

TERTIUS.
My son, be plain; these are but simple men.

SATURUS.
It was to simple men our Master spoke
In parables; I would but waken love—
Love, that disarmeth danger of his sting.

SATURNINUS.
The enemy are upon us! Let them come!
I would it were Christ's will that we might fight,
As those of old, the battles of the Lord
With sword and sinew.

TERTIUS.
Peace! my son.

POMPONIUS.
The edict!
They have proclaim'd—

SATURUS.
They have; e'en now I heard it
Read o'er a gleaming watch-fire in the Forum;
Mutter'd! the words came hurriedly and low,
Scarce taking aim beyond the speaker's ear.
Soldiers, with glittering eyes and ready arms,
Savage and grim, shew'd in the lurid light
As ready for their prey;—the place, the time,—
This dragging of the law from out its sleep,—
Betokens instant act.

TERTIUS.
Let us disperse!
Some take the eastern way, and some the west.

SATURUS.
Tarry!—nor fly ye like to timid sheep;
But meet the hour like men. Behold, my brothers,
Vivia Perpetua!—Lo! that fragile form
Roots firmly to the earth, as it would raise
An immortality from out dead dust!
E'en from the paleness of resolved brows,
Ye timorous, gather strength, and bid your own
Now fix with purpose of a settled soul.

VOICES.
What should we do?

SATURUS.
For Christ? Oh, what for him,
Who waits for us in heaven? To hear his voice
Say, “Come to me, ye blessed of my Father;
Well done, ye faithful servants of the Lord!”
What will ye do for Christ? Oh, what for him,
Ye whom he chose for his elect; ye poor,
Whose daily bread is earn'd by daily toil
(For ye he did elect to dwell amongst;
Ye poor, how rich by this election made!):
Not in high places, where the great resort,
(Save to proclaim, that of one blood are made
All nations and all families of earth),
Did he frequent, but with the lowly-born,
Himself the lowliest,—the manger-cradled!
What will ye do for Christ, ye wanderers?
He liv'd for you a wayside wanderer,
Who had not where to lay his head;—no rest,
Save when he drew apart, away from all,
In the Judæan mountains, there to seek
His spirit's peace in solitude with God,—
Thence to return (like the descending stream
That went along with him) to carry joy
Into the thirsty valleys! What for him,
Ye slaves, redeem'd to freedom evermore;—
A freedom charter'd in his book of life,
Sealed with his precious blood? Oh, what for him,
Who, though apart in mighty isolation
Of his most high supremacy with God,
Did yet draw nearer to us in his love
Than e'en the mothers who did give us birth.
Oh, answer! put your hearts into your speech,
And warrant both by act. Oh, what for him,
Our sovereign Lord, our Counsellor, our Friend!

SATURNINUS.
Or fight or die for him!

SECUNDULUS.
Or lay down life without one sigh for him,
As willingly as though it were his sleep,
Who, freed from toil or taunt, did lay him down
Under the willows, where the wind-swept harps
Still echoed true the praises of his God
By Babylon's sad waters. Rest—in him!

TERTIUS.
“A crown of glory is the hoary head!”
So spake the Psalmist. At the foot of Christ
I lay this earthly crown, praying of him
To grant a heavenly, even though the cost
Be martyrdom.

POMPONIUS.
And I these lustier limbs
And longer term of days. We die but once,
But through his grace we live for evermore.

FELICITAS.

REVOCATUS and FELICITAS.

SATURUS.
And Testus hath no voice?—he hath a life.

TESTUS.

SATURUS.
Keep to that tune when they would question thee.

TESTUS.
I'm poor of speech; there's nothing more to say.

SATURUS.
Now let us part;—perchance no more to meet
Till we are one in heaven with our Father.
Let us not hymnless go for the first time,
When we may mingle voices for the last!
Oh, give me this reward for all the care
Hath watch'd your growing souls,—for all the love
That still can only reckon it as joy;—
With unperturbed hearts, with souls resolv'd,
With voices steadied by a holy trust,—
Once more the hymn that we so oft have sung,
As now—when light was gaining on the darkness.
Brothers, once more! then all depart in peace.

[They all sing.
Part in peace! Christ's life was peace,—
Let us breathe our breath in him!
Part in peace! Christ's death was peace,—
Let us die our death in him!
Part in peace! Christ promise gave
Of a life beyond the grave,
Where all mortal partings cease.
Part in peace!
[They separate.
(Echo.)
“Peace!”