Alcestis A Dramatic Poem. By John Todhunter |
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Scene II.
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 | Alcestis |  |
Scene II.
Antechamber of the Banqueting Hall. Œnanthus alone.Œnanthus.
I have seen here all kinds of guests, from all countries, that can be called countries, under the sun —Greek or Barbarian; but such a guest as this brawny Hercules never before. Are heroes then so much hungrier than your mere mortal, that they must fill their bellies in such unmannerly haste? Here he comes, and finds us with never a dry eye in the house —ashes at the gate, and my master in a most sweet and comely misery, as is but the due of so gracious a Queen; meets him merrily, with no comfortable trick of sympathy, no bated voice of condolence such as a friend should use; but roars him out a greeting, steps me thundering over the clipt hair on the threshold, and straight to his cups and his trenchers. Why 'twould
Hercules.
Hallo there, old wineskin! Still in the dumps? Come, drink a rouse with me!
Œnanthus.
I am no wineskin, King Hercules, but the sober steward of King Admetus: and I think it not seemly to drink with thee.
Hercules.
No wineskin, art thou not? Why, thou hast the
Œnanthus.
Sir, I thank the gods I can drink soberly upon occasion; but there's none now.
Hercules.
Tut, tut, man!
Drink a cup, and drown thy sorrow,Laugh to-day and weep to-morrow! Hast thou any sorrow deeper than a wine-cup will measure? If thou hast I am but a fool.
Œnanthus.
Truly under thy favour, King Hercules, truth may be told in jest; and I would in all humility request and beseech thee, if thou wouldst fain exercise thy voice in the way of music, to do it with a more delicate dissipation, and confine thy forandos and rolandos to the hall of banquet. This is the house of mourning.
So I will, good fellow, so I will. I come but for the zest of thy festive company. I'll go back anon. Thy rebuke is very just—“Truth, King Hercules, may be told in jest.” Ha! ha! ha! Well put, old festivity, very well put. I thank thee for the royal title—why dost thou call me King—eh?
Œnanthus.
He whom Admetus thus royally entertains cannot be less. Art thou not a king then, in some sort?
Hercules.
Ay, my owl of wisdom, I am a wandering king—a king of good fellows. My territory has no bounds. Come, if good cheer be royalty, I'll crown thee a King thyself. Drink, O King Curmudgeon! Thou shouldst know the taste of this good wine.
Œnanthus.
I'll not drink, I tell thee—not with her corpse still warm. 'Tis not seemly.
What corpse is this that comes between thee and thy liquor? 'Tis but a woman and a stranger. A woman gone! Bah! there are too many left, there are too many left. They buzz about us like bees. We are drugged with their honey, maimed with their stings. If there were none at all, we might sit down and weep; for without them to plague us, and set us by the ears, we should grow too soft and domestic. But what woman is this? Here, take thy drink.
Œnanthus.
Well, 'tis but one cup to her memory, and that the wine be not wasted. Why, there's but one woman in the world, and she's gone out of it.
Hercules.
Who? who?
Œnanthus.
Who else but the Queen Alcestis herself?
Hercules.
The Queen Alcestis!
Ay, thou mayst well drop thy chalice and stare.
Hercules.
Why, what a tale is this that Admetus put upon me! Dead! the Queen Alcestis! Why have ye kept this from me? Fool that I was! When died she, fellow?
Œnanthus.
But now, an hour before sunset, even as thou camest. The King laid it straightly upon us that we should not tell thee ought.
Hercules.
Ay, this is like his courtesy. Dead, dead! Alcestis dead, and I a reveller!
Œnanthus.
Yes, I saw her laid out while thou wast at table. 'Tis a most beauteous corpse—the sweetest thing, she is, that ever gave the worms their supper. They'll have carried her forth by this time.
Hercules.
Carried her forth? Where?
Why, to her grave. Should the palace be polluted all night with a body? But thou may'st see her tomorrow—all in fine white linen, and a posy of flowers in her bosom—she will not be sealed up in marble for a two days' space—a most lovely ladylike corpse.
Hercules
(aside).
Begone, ye idle wreaths! Now Hercules,
If thou wouldst shew thyself the seed of Zeus
Indeed, look to thy thews. Thou hast a deed
To do this night, shall make thy labours seem
But tiro's practice. Now, thou pitiless thief,
Thou filcher of all beauty and delight,
I'll try for once a fall with thee! Ay, Death,
Let me once fling these arms around thy ribs,
And I'll so maul thee that thou'lt quake for fear,
And dream of dying. Thou shalt fly no more,
For all thy leathern wings, until thy realms
Restore Alcestis' shade. I'll wait for him,
And catch him when he hovers o'er the tomb,
To drink the victim's blood; or, missing that,
I'll follow him down to Hades. Either way
Alcestis shall come back, or I no more.
Evoe! Evoe! to battle!
(aside).
His teeth set, his eyes terrible! He's drunk, or mad!
Hercules.
Where is this tomb, friend?
Œnanthus.
Why? What wouldst thou do there?
Hercules.
Where is this tomb, I say?
Œnanthus.
O ye great gods! Unhand me Hercules! What have I done that thou shouldst strangle me?
Hercules.
Her tomb, where is it?
Œnanthus.
O—as thou goest by the road to Larissa. Thou canst not miss it—just beyond the wall—a great tomb all of marble. But wilt thou go there now?
Ay, now, now, now! Out of my way, I tell thee! Wouldst thou be flung over the house?
Œnanthus.
O, mercy on us!
Hercules.
Right or left, is it?
Œnanthus.
To the right, to the right—thou canst not miss it by this moon—a great white tomb in a grove of cypresses.
Hercules.
Thanks, thanks—fare-thee-well!
[Exit Hercules.
Œnanthus.
This must be his mad fit. I have heard that all these heroes have their mad fits. It is but a scurvy trick for the blood of the gods to boil so in a man's veins that it shall breed in him mere lunacy. I thank
| Alcestis | |