University of Virginia Library

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.