University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

Scene: The part of Pompeii bordering on the Bay of Naples, laid out as a pleasure ground, with seats, etc., surrounded with palaces. The back of the stage crowded with gaily colored booths, etc., and thronged with buyers and sellers. Fishing boats, filled with fishermen, occasionally arrive at side of scene, well back, from which fishermen disembark with nets, fish, etc. Vesuvius, a highly cultivated mountain, covered with villas, gardens, etc., seen in the distance. [R. of C.] Hetairae gaily dressed in transparent costumes, mounted in chariots, conducted by slaves, drive across the stage, accompanied by throngs of young gentlemen who offer the Hetairae flowers, wreaths, presents, etc. The richly curtained litters of ladies of rank, borne and accompanied by slaves, occasionally cross the scene. Enter [L.2. and 3.E.] as from the games, Dudus, Burbo, Stratonice and a miscellaneous throng of soldiers, citizens, etc. Clodius and Sallust land from a boat, and advance.
Clod.
[To Burbo]
Are the games over?

Bur.
For today, my lord.
And you not there!

Clod.
State business called me hence,
As far as Baiae. Who was victor?

Stra.
Who?—
Shut up your mouth, you Burbo! The worst use
You make of it is to be talking thus,
Unless you are guzzling.

Bur.
Stratonice, now!
His lordship spoke to me—

Stra.
He knows you not;
Or he had better spoken to a parrot.
Why will you talk and talk, while no one listens?
Who, your lordship, who won the first prize?
Why, Lydon, Lydon ever.

Sal.
Lydon again:
Then I win half a talent.

Stra.
A mere boy;
But then he meets but pigmies. In my day,
When I turned hulking Burbo on his back,
Like a great tortoise, with my net's first cast;
And he screamed out for mercy, which for fun,
For sheer fun all the laughing people gave—
I wish they had not: he is such a care:
Then there were women in the bloody ring
That would have given this Lydon more to do
Than what you now call men,—call gladiators!
Fie! gladiators, without strength enough
To sweep my kitchen out. Take that, and that,
For all your gladiators!

[Cuffs Burbo]
Dud.
Gracious Venus!
Is that a matrimonial rite?

Sal.
Take warning.
It is not safe, my Dudus, as you see,
To wed a gladiator, he or she.

Clod.
You were in the arena, Stratonice,
Some years, I think?

Bur.
She was—

Stra.
[Putting her hand over Burbo's mouth]
Five years, my lord.

Dud.
Dear, dear!

Stra.
And vanquished only twice.

Dud.
The men
Of your day were polite.

Stra.
Polite! Young man,
Feel this right arm.

Bur.
[Interposing jealously]
Nay, nay—

Stra.
[Flinging him aside]
Out, double ass!
Polite! Feel this. [Bending and unbending her arm]


Dud.
[Retreating]
Gods! I would rather not,
As Burbo feels it.

Sal.
But, besides myself,
Who won on Lydon?

Dud.
Glaucus won enough
To build a temple.

Sal.
The sagacious Greek!

Stra.
There is a man for you! By Hercules!
When he was born a gentleman, the games
Lost a great fighter. Just the other day,
Out of mere sport, there in the fencing-school,
He took a foil, and drove this very Lydon
Around the ring, as if he were a cur.
Why Lydon panted like a winded horse;
But Glaucus did not draw one heavy breath
Through his bright, laughing lips. I'd love to kiss them.

Bur.
Nay Stratonice—

Stra.
Ass!

Dud.
The gods forbid
Poor Glaucus such a fortune!

Stra.
Look you here,
You gilded toga, you fine heap of clothes,
With no more man within them, than enough
To carry them about for show,—feel this! [Offers her arm]


Bur.
Nay, Stratonice, nay my dearest dove,
My little pidgy, widdgy! why, oh why
Are you forever flirting with that youth? [Pats her cheek]


Stra.
Flirting? you oaf!

Bur.
Yes, darling; that's the way
You flirt with me.

Sal.
[To Clodius]
Was it not strange, that freak
Of Glaucus, Stratonice told?

Clod.
Oh! no;
He is Achilles in his woman's garb.
Luxurious indolence has not quite quelled
The man within him. If he had a cause,
Great as himself, to which his heart was given,
There might arise a hero in a day
Degenerate as is ours.

Sal.
Well, Clodius,
You are the best of friends.

Clod.
How so?

Sal.
To make
A hero of that Attic fop.

Clod.
Wait, man,
Till some strong passion moves him—love or hate.

Sal.
When will that be?

Clod.
Who knows? There is a maid,
Of Greek descent too, fairest of the fair,
Rich, graceful, cultured, of a noble stock;
Heart free, as spotless as Diana's cheek,
In all ways fit for Glaucus: I would give
A half year's income, just to bring those two
Closely in contact; while I stood aloof,
And watched the issue.

Sal.
Grand experiment!
Who is this paragon, before whose feet
You'd sacrifice poor Glaucus?

Clod.
Guess you not?
That damsel of Neapolis, Ione—
Arbaces' ward. You must have seen the girl,
Despite the jealous care with which her guardian
Secludes her from the public, all he can.
She's now of age, free from his tutelage:
Has her own household on the street of Fortune;
Welcomes her guests, and like a princess too,
And entertains them, as Aspasia might,
Had the light dame been pure as is this maid.

Sal.
Hey, Clodius! you are eloquent today!
Arbaces' ward? I like not that.

Clod.
Nor I.

Sal.
They give him out a sorcerer. And we see
How he has turned this city upside down
With his new worship of Egyptian Isis.
God's, man! her temple elbows Jupiter's,
And puts our ancient Thunderer to shame,
With her increasing crowds of devotees,
While his cold shrine stands empty.

Clod.
In good faith,
If our old Latin gods gave us no aid—
In spite of sacrifices and processions—
During the recent earthquakes; do you blame
The silly folk for flying to new gods,
After the old ones fail them? I do not.
As for Arbaces, he is rich, and lives
In Oriental splendor; and there is
A world of mystic beauty in his face,
Dark as the grave, and as unfathomable,
That wins the curious gazer at a glance.

Sal.
He has the evil eye; to that I'll swear.
All things are blighted that he looks upon.

Clod.
Pish! I have supped with him; and such a feast
I shall not see again until the gods
Transport me to Olympus. Look at me:
Do I look blighted with the evil eye?

Sal.
Not yet; but wait: the bane is slow but sure.
But when came Glaucus back?

Clod.
A few days since;
While we were witnessing that wondrous show,
The Emperor's coronation rites at Rome.

Sal.
Was he not there?

Clod.
He! it is said he told
His old friend Titus, to his very teeth,
That he would never seen an emperor crowned,
While Greece remains enslaved.

Sal.
And Titus?

Clod.
Oh!
He only laughed: he and the Greek are friends.
Too close to quarrel.

Sal.
And for that, 'tis said,
Our Praetor scowls on Glaucus; and suspects
He will be ousted from his office here,
Since Titus reigns, for certain sentences,
Against the Greeks, which Glaucus has denounced
As cruelties. Let Glaucus have a care;
Or, ere he gain his end, the Praetor's hand
Will fall upon him.

Clod.
Have no fear for him.
What are our stupid Romans at intrigue
Against the subtle Greeks, and, of all men,
Against a man of Glaucus' influence,
Wealth, wit, and boundless popularity.
Fear for the Praetor, Sallust.

Sal.
As for him,
I wish him all the ill the gods may send,
And to his crony, that Egyptian snake,
You are so fond of supping with.

Clod.
[Laughing]
Ha! ha!
When he invites you, you will change your tune.

Nyd.
[Sings without]

Stra.
Here comes that little termagant again,
Singing her treason. You blind idiot.
Ha! would you have me make you sing, you slut,
Another song? [Threatens Nydia]


Bur.
Yes, answer that! [Pushes Nydia rudely]


Stra.
Hands off!
By Pollux, if you touch my slave!—Come here,
You Grecian baggage! Sing a song like this. [Sings grotesquely]

Buy flowers—buy flowers—for—for—for—
Buy flowers—for—for—

Dud.
Brava! for what? to fill your purse? Here girl,
Here is a piece of gold for you. Take care
Your mistress do not see it. [Gives her a coin]


Bur.
What, real gold? [Tries to snatch it]


Stra.
Of course, it is. [Pushing him aside]
You do not think a youth,
So sweet-faced and so gay, would give a maid—
A poor, blind damsel—anything but gold? [Takes and pockets the coin]


Bur.
I thought so, Chucky; and I wished to see—

Stra.
“You wished to see!” You wished to see it melt
In wine, you tosspot! No, no; this is safe,
To feed our children, after you have drowned
Your life in liquor.

Bur.
“Children?” We have none.

Stra.
But who knows what might happen? Go, girl, go!
Your market waits you.—Vixen, hop, and sing!

Nyd.
[Sings, offering her flowers for sale to all. Some take and others reject her flowers]

[Exit, followed at a distance by Burbo and Stratonice, watching her. Shouts, music, etc., without. Enter a procession of Gladiators, bearing Lydon, crowned with a wreath, in a litter upon their shoulders. All singing]

[Lydon descends from the litter. The Gladiators disperse about the stage. Music. Enter Soldiers, who force aside the people, then enter the Praetor, attended by Officers, Guards, Slaves, etc.]
Prae.
Halus, come here! Let not a thing like this
Happen again. You were remiss today.
The majesty of Rome is trample on
By such a scene.

1st Off.
My lord, we could not pass
Without a use of weapons.

Prae.
Use them, then,
On such occasion. Shall a Praetor stop,
To let a Greek light from his chariot;
And before all, this demagogue, this Glaucus,
Who spends his wealth in ostentatious shows
Of charity, to win the rabble's shouts?
Go over him, and all his following,
When next we meet.

1st Off.
I shall obey, my lord.
But Glaucus—

Prae.
Glaucus! Fellow, that man's name
Is wormwood to me. Let him watch his house,
Or I may tumble it about his ears.
March on, without a pause; and let the mob
Care for its toes and heels.

1st Off.
Attention! March! [Exeunt the Praetor and train, driving the people aside]


Sal.
Pray mark that, Clodius, how his majesty
Crushes the people underneath his feet!

Clod.
Gods, yes! I wonder when the brute will wipe
Our senatorial purple with his hoofs?

Lyd.
Hey, comrades, did we risk our lives all day
In the arena, to amuse that man,
To have our bodies prodded with his spears,
Here, in the peaceful street?

1st Glad.
By Hercules.
I'd like to catch him once upon our ground,
When spears were flying!

Lyd.
Yes, you mighty man,
You'd run from him, just as you did from me,
This very morning. [All the Gladiators laugh]


1st Glad.
Lydon, won't you, now,
Allow a fellow to agree with you? [Music. Enter Glaucus, followed by Saphax, Freedmen, Attendants, etc. Two Ethiopians fanning him with large peacock fans]


Sal.
You are most welcome back, my lord.

Glau.
Your slave,
Good Sallust! Clodius! Dudus!—Do you mind,
Standing a little off, to let the breeze
Have passage to me? It is very hot:
I drove home from the game, and eat a fig,
And that fatigued me. [Seats himself, languidly]


Sal.
That fatigued you! Ah!
You find it hard work living?

Glau.
Very hard.
If one could only live without the strain
Of eating, drinking, drawing breath, and, oh!
Eternal dressing; life to me might be,
Quite tolerable. Fan me. [Negroes fan violently]

And Eolus, you chill me. Gently now Boreas.
Give me a zephyr, not a hurricane.
Clodius, some day these things of ebony
Will blow me quite away.

Sal.
How pitiful!

Glau.
You have a kind heart, Sallust.

Sal.
Tell me, Glaucus,
Where were you for the last six months?

Glau.
Ah me!
It is a labor to remember that.
Voyaging about the world, in search of rest.
I was so bored with Egypt, India,
And what I saw of rugged Scythia,
That I came back to find my mansion here
Split through with earthquakes, all my frescoes cracked,
And half the people houseless. Why will not
The earth keep still; and at least until I die?

Dud.
He's simply perfect! Shall I ever be
Just like him?

Glau.
Clodius, have you ever read
Strabo, our Naturalist?

Clod.
No.

Glau.
Sallust, you?

Sal.
We are not scholars.

Glau.
Nor am I. It must
Be most fatiguing to learn anything;
So useless too. They say, our Strabo says,
Yon pigmy mountain—no more than a wart
On nature's face—yonder Vesuvius—
Was once volcanic. That was long ago,
Ere history began. And that same Strabo—
That quite unpleasant person—further says,
That at some future day, Vesuvius
May take it in its silly head once more
To burst in flame and lava on the world.

Dud.
What a sensation that would make!

Glau.
Well said!
You are the prince of dandies. [Patting Dudus]


Clod.
But, my lord,
The thought is terrible.

Sal.
We dwellers here
Would not be safe.

Glau.
Safe, Sallust! We would be
Cooked, like so many capons, in our fat.

Dud.
How very droll!

Clod.
Now I remember, once,
I heard Arbaces say the self same thing;
But as a prophet, not a naturalist.

Dud.
Then I will bet a talent, more or less,
It is a lie, and will not come to pass.

Glau.
Hey, Dudus, sceptical?

Dud.
Of him, my lord.
I have laid up a fortune, by my bets
Against the oracles of Isis. Yes:
I'll give you two to one, no prophecy,
Made in her temple, ever is fulfilled.

Glau.
Speaking of betting; was not Lydon here?

Dud.
Yes. Lydon, Lydon! [Bring Lydon forward]


Glau.
So you won today?

Lyd.
My lord, before you, I should blush with shame
For my poor adversaries. They must be
Weaklings indeed in your sight.

Glau.
Nay; why so?

Lyd.
Have you forgot our practice, when you drove me
Before you like a feather? I would face
A storm of lightning sooner than your blade.

Glau.
But that was play, my Lydon.

Lyd.
Not to me;
I did my best. I was so furious,
I would have killed you if I could; my lord,
Had I your arm and skill, I'd go to Rome,
And face the champions of the world; for that
Might hasten matters.

Glau.
Hasten what?

Lyd.
My end,
Or something better. Do not think, my lord,
I am a brute from taste, to maim and kill
My comrades but to hear the arena roar.

Glau.
You are an honest fellow. Out with it!
I'd like to have a reason why a man
Should be a gladiator.

Lyd.
Oh! this world
Is hard to some of us. I have a father,
Old and half blind, whose dulness feels the lash
When he is halting.—In a word, a slave.
You know what that means, when the taskmaster
I, pitiless.

Glau.
Ye gods! And so you fight—

Lyd.
But to win gold enough to set him free.

Glau.
Saphax!

Saph.
My lord. [Advances]


Glau.
Take Lydon, and go buy
His father's freedom.

Saph.
At what price, my lord?

Glau.
How do I know? His owner will tell that.
By Pallas, one day I shall go insane
With men's eternal questions. Fan me, boys!

Lyd.
My lord—

Glau.
Oh! yes; I see your eyes. Enough!—
Do not excite me.

Lyd.
Only this, then, more.
If you should ever need a man to die,
Smiling and happy, for you—

Glau.
Pray, be gone!
You make me warm. [Exeunt Lydon and Saphax]

Forgive me this disturbance.
Lydon is dreadful with his gratitude.
But then I won some money on the knave,
And owe him that much for his victory.

Sal.
Who lost?

Glau.
The Praetor lost to me. He let
His spite outrun his judgment.

Clod.
That accounts
For why he used the crowd so brutally,
As he passed by.

Glau.
Yes, yes; he is a brute—
Like all Romans.

Sal.
Thanks!

Glau.
For what?—the truth?
Do you so seldom hear it? Poor, poor Praetor!
Some people tell me it is very hard
To be a gentleman.

Dud.
Delicious!

Glau.
Hum!
I must displace this Praetor, when I have time
To write to Titus. And, meanwhile, one pig,
One Roman pig, is like another.

Clod.
Glaucus,
You can say anything.

Glau.
Like truth, I hope.
I am so weary! Would you mind, my friends,
To talk a little less?

Dud.
The gods be thanked
For such a man among us! [Enter Ione, borne in a litter, followed by Waiting Women, Attendants, etc.]


Glau.
[Regarding her intently]
Who is that?

Sal.
A woman.

Glau.
Nay, a goddess, if they grace
Our wretched planet, as they did of old.

Clod.
Hey! Glaucus! you are waking.

Glau.
Who is she?

Clod.
Ione of Neapolis; a Greek—
And so far like yourself—rich, cultured, young,
And as you see her. Is she beautiful,
According to your fancy?

Glau.
Marvellously!

Clod.
Shall I present you?

Glau.
If she will. [Clodius approaches Ione]


Clod.
Hail, fairest!

Ione.
Welcome, most courteous Clodius!

Clod.
May your slave
Present a friend, Glaucus of Athens, to you?

Ione.
How now, the sybarite, the woman-scorner?
What has bewitched him?

Clod.
Ask that of your eyes;
Or, better still, of him.

Ione.
Well, I confess,
I have a woman's curiosity
To know why he would meet me.

Clod.
You are gracious. [Goes to Glaucus, and returns with him to Ione]

Permit me lady, to present my friend,
Glaucus of Athens. As you both are Greek,
I leave you to your treasonable talk
Against poor Rome. [Retires]


Glau.
The treason of the slave,
To curse his chains, to love his native land;
And, above all, to love that liberty
Which is, or should be, all men's heritage.

Ione.
What's that? [Springing from her litter eagerly]


Glau.
What Clodius would call treason. Lady,
I hope it is not treason to your ears. [They sit]


Ione.
To mine? Oh, no! These are the noblest words
I ever heard; though startling, as from you.
My Greece—oh, let me say our Greece—my dream
Of glory is to see her marble face
Once more ablaze with that grand liberty
Which made her forehead beautiful of old.

Glau.
Yes, beautiful as yours, her faithful child;
Faithful amid the false!

Ione.
How men have wronged
Your nature, Glaucus!

Glau.
Hardly. I was born,
Save in my blood, a Roman. All my race,
Since our subjection, held great offices,
And power and wealth, under almighty Rome,
Trampling upon their country, as the slave,
Put in the master's place, will ever do.
I am ashamed to utter what you hear;
But, Heaven knows, not ashamed of what I feel,
In spite of that which made my boyhood base,
And my youth idle. What is the career
A Greek may follow, while the heavy heel
Of Rome is resting on his country's neck
With hopeless weight? What can the slave do now
But serve the master?

Ione.
He can strike, and die.

Glau.
Yet to no purpose; and cheerless fact
Has made an idler of me, in a world
Where action is in vain, and mankind groans
Under a burden he cannot shake off.

Ione.
Is this the trifler, Glaucus?—this strong man,
Alive with thoughts of empire for his race,
Albeit desperate?

Glau.
Never would I be
A trifler in your eyes. You have aroused
Feelings that slept, and only dreamed, sometimes,
Of possible fulfilment, till your soul
Looked into mine, and made the dream appear
Reality, and you the living type
Of Grecian liberty. Pray, pardon me!
But we must not be strangers; for my heart
Was ready as a temple, for the shrine
And statue of the goddess, ere you came
To make my life your worship.

Ione.
[Aside]
What is this,
This fiery current setting to my heart?
Lie quiet, traitor! It is not the man;
It is my country wakes you into life. [Enter Apaecides]


Apae.
Sister!

Ione.
My brother, welcome! [They embrace]
Pray you know
Glaucus of Athens. [They bow stifly]


Apae.
Who does not know him,
Who has an eye for glitter and for pomp?

Glau.
I pray you, do not make me blush, to hear
How I am known. Perhaps there is a soul,
Under my garb, more worth the knowing.

Ione.
Yes;
For that I answer.

Apae.
You!

Glau.
A neophyte
Of Isis, by your robe?

Ione.
A neophyte,
No more; not yet a priest.

Apae.
Nor e'er to be,
Perhaps; a scholar merely.

Glau.
Then you read,
Our Grecian sages, the philosophers?

Apae.
Not I.

Glau.
Not Plato even?

Apae.
[Aside]
Ye gods, 'tis strange!
[Aloud]
Do you know Plato?

Glau.
Yes, almost by rote.
Let me commend to you the fountainhead
Of human wisdom, whose exhaustless flow
Springs from the earth, and soars into the heavens;
Links creature to Creator; makes our life
One with its Source, immortal as the Power
Which is the central soul of all that is.

Ione.
This is pure teaching, Glaucus.

Apae.
[Aside]
I am stunned:
Such words from him!

Glau.
Are you not curious
To have a glimpse of Plato's heaven?

Apae.
I am.

Glau.
Come to my house then. I have roll on roll
Of Plato's writings in my library.

Apae.
You have a library!

Glau.
In Greek alone.
'Tis hard to tempt a man so bigoted
To read the works of the barbarians.

Ione.
O Brother, Brother, you should not neglect
The writers of our country. Where on earth
Find you such poets and philosophers,
Such dramatists, and such historians,
So full of beauty, power and sacred truth,
As in the writers of our native land?

Apae.
I shall accept your hospitality;
Perhaps to own a teacher in yourself.
[Aside]
This is the strangest of strange things; to find
A scholar hidden in the glittering garb
Of Glaucus, the Athenian fop! [Enter Arbaces, Calenus and a brilliant train of Freedmen, Slaves, etc.]


Arb.
How now!
Your litter waiting in the public streets!

Ione.
Where 'er it is, it waits without your leave,
Asked or expected.

Arb.
Pardon me. I saw
The child that used to run with outstretched arms,
Into my bosom from a stranger's face.
I still forget the change.

Ione.
Remember it.
You should not wish to make a child of me
Before the world. Permit me to present
Glaucus of Athens.

Arb.
Glaucus? We have met
Before, I think.

Glau.
I cannot recollect.

Arb.
Your memory is as bad then as your manners.

Glau.
My lord, I try to make my company
Better than either.

Arb.
You are keen.

Glau.
What, I?
Only by contrast with a duller wit.

Arb.
By Horus!—

Ione.
Peace! Do not forget my presence.

Arb.
'Twere better, than to see you sitting thus,
Like an Aspasia, in a public place.

Glau.
Strange words from an Egyptian. In your land,
For ages, women held the public place—
Did the man's duties, as we know them here;
While he with distaff in his puny hand,
Or babe on knee, sat with his modesty
Safely secluded in his wife's abode.
This thing was so, or else your chronicles
Lie about that, as well as other things.

Arb.
Ha! ha! it moves my mirth, to hear a Greek
Be so ungrateful, as to cast a slur
Upon the land to which he owes the birth
Of all his saucy greatness. Where were art,
Religion, wisdom, all that makes you proud,
Had you not stolen from Egypt everything.

Glau.
And bettered all, so that its owner knew,
But by tradition, that the thing was his.
Or if, indeed, the mother germ of all
Slumbered not in the twilight of the race,
And wakened when the worthiest called.

Cal.
[Aside]
Ha! now,
Here is a nimble wit, and rich. I wonder
If service with him might not pay me more
Than starving with Arbaces. Gold is gold,
Wherever it be mined. [Enter Nydia, running, pursued by Stratonice, Burbo and a laughing crowd]


Stra.
Ha! nimble legs,
You will outrun your mistress then! [Seizes Nydia]


Ione.
[To Glaucus]
My lord—

Bur.
Take that! [Offers to strike Nydia]


Glau.
[Hurling him aside]
Off wretch! What beast begot you then,
That you dare lift your impious hand against
Your mother's sex? [Nydia shelters herself behind Glaucus]


1st Cit.
[To Burbo]
Go at him, man!

Bur.
Not I:
His grip is torture.

Glau.
What is this about?

Bur.
Why not ask that before you cripple me?

Stra.
Bah! sheep, you crippled! With a club, you sot,
He could not kill you! Pray, your lordship, hear.
She is my slave—

Glau.
Your slave! That is name
To raise up all mankind in her defense.

Ione.
'Tis nobly said.

Glau.
What then?

Stra.
She is the most
Unbidable, cross-grained and crooked thing
That ever eat my victuals. You bad brat,
Let me but get these hooks into your skin,
And you shall know it!

Glau.
What is her offense?

Stra.
What—what? This morning, I commanded her
To wash, and dress, and put her finery on,
And go to Lord Arbaces' house—

Arb.
[Apart to her]
Hush, hush!

Stra.
That's all; she would not go.

Glau.
Why not?

Nyd.
My lord,
I am a damsel; and I cannot go
To that licentious house, where riot raves
From night till morning—

Arb.
[Apart to her]
Silence!

Nyd.
[Shuddering]
He is here!
I dare not speak. Or if I do, her whip
Will tear the skin from my shoulders.

Stra.
Yes;
That is a safe prediction. [Trumpets, etc. Enter the Praetor and train]


Prae.
What is this?
Must all our byways be obstructed thus,
To wait for you, Lord Glaucus?

Glau.
I, my lord?
I am most innocent of this. Behold,
A public illustration of the charms
Of your domestic slavery. That blocks
The thoroughfare, and makes the heart
Hard as the stones we tread on.

Prae.
[Saluting her]
Fair Ione! [She bows coldly]

My noble friend Arbaces. [They salute cordially]

Tell me now,
Why is the rabble gathered thus? To hear
A lecture on the naked, sovereign man,
Or the nobility of poverty,
From one whose race runs backward to the gods;
And whose poor fortune, turned to gold, would sink
Caesar's best galley. [He, Arbaces and their followers laugh]


Arb.
'Twas a tumult raised
With these good people, Burbo and his wife,
By that Greek gentleman, about a slave,—
Yon girl beside him. I will finish it.
Sell me the slave.

Nyd.
O gods, no! not to him.
Save me, my lord, if you have ever loved
Sister or mother! [To Glaucus]


Glau.
Burbo, let the girl
Go to my house. My steward will pay your price.

Stra.
Well, but—

Arb.
O Praetor, mark this insolence.
Mine is the prior right. I offered first.

Prae.
What say you, Burbo?

Stra.
Say! The slave is mine:
And he is mine.

Prae.
Well, well, what say you then?

Stra.
The girl earns me a living, selling flowers,
And making music for the gentlemen
At feasts and suppers. In the temples, too
She sings at festivals—the bonny bird!
She is a proper and religious girl:
'Twould break my heart to part with her.

Bur.
[Weeping]
Ye gods!—

Stra.
But if the gentlemen would have her, I
Will not prevent her bettering herself,
Poor innocent!—I therefore say, my lord,
Let him who'll pay the highest price for her,
Take the poor child from my maternal arms. [Weeps]


All Cit.
Shame!—shame!

Stra.
Oh, go to Pluto with your “shame”!

Prae.
Most provident affection! Be it so.

Bur.
But this is hard—so hard!— [Weeping]


Stra.
Stop, ass! we've had
Enough of that.

Prae.
My lord Arbaces, bid.
Yours is the first chance.

Arb.
Let the Greek speak first:
I waive my right.

Glau.
I do protest, my lord,
Against this thing as most unseemly. What,
Make a slave market of the pleasure ground
Of the whole people!

Prae.
Oh, “the people”—pah!
You always have the people in your mouth.

Glau.
I am but one of them.

Prae.
Come bid, come bid! [Glaucus looks at Ione, who smiles assent to him]


Glau.
Then I will give a talent more for her
Than any bid the Egyptian may make.

Cal.
Now have a care. If you go very high,
He'll let you take the girl. Beware Greek tricks! [Apart to Arbaces]


Arb.
Well thought of. 'Tis a farce. She is not worth
The tenth part of a talent. I am not
A fool!

Cal.
No, not that way. Who ever said
Arbaces was a fool in lavishness? [Aside laughing]


Prae.
Then you abandon bidding?

Arb.
I will not
Stand here, to be a butt, before the mob,
To his audacious wealth. The infernal gods
Give you the profit of your purchase, Greek!
Add Nydia to your Harem. You must have
A singing girl among your other things.

Glau.
My lord, this foul-tongued fellow, who respects
Neither a lady's presence nor the truth,
Should have a bridle in his liquorish mouth.

Arb.
Poh! it is public scandal.

Glau.
Then, as such,
Whisper it darkly to your sister crones
Over your sewing.

Prae.
Peace; no more of this!
The girl is yours.

Nyd.
The gods be thanked! [Kisses Glaucus's hand]


Bur.
My lord,
The price you bid—

Stra.
A talent—that it was—
An Attic talent, all in pure, bright gold.

Glau.
Yes, yes.

Cal.
You two are little less than thieves;
To sell a blind girl at a price like that.

Glau.
Blind! Is she blind?

Stra.
Not blinder than the fools
That make their offerings at Isis' shrine.

Cal.
Blind as that woman's conscience. You would not
Purchase a goat on such scrutiny.

Glau.
One cannot err in purchasing a slave
Meant for my uses at the seller's price.
The more infirm, afflicted, useless, valueless—
The more in danger of the tyrant's rod—
The more her worth to me.

Nyd.
I need not eyes
To serve you, master. Take another sense
From my defective body, leave me but
My willing heart, and I could do more work
For you, my lord, than any stalwart slave
Dare venture on.

Prae.
Bold promises sometimes
Forerun a faint performance. I have heard,
It was your boast, you never owned a slave.
Perhaps it is your policy to talk
In that way to the people.

Glau.
Policy?
No, when I have the people's ear, I feel
That I am talking to my brothers. Gods,
Forget me and my fortunes, when I dare,
Under your eyes, forget my fellow man!
I never owned a slave, 'tis true, my lord,
Longer than time was needed to set free
The hapless being. Fair Ione, deign
To give this girl the shelter of your house.

Ione.
Most willingly.

Arb.
Ione, I protest
Against your taking up this gutter filth,
This tramper of the streets, this sightless toy
Of every scamp to whom she sells a flower,
To give her lodging in your spotless home.

Nyd.
Send me not from you. Let me stay with you.
I shall no more disturb your quiet house
Than a poor mouse. I cannot go, my lord,
To that great lady's service.

Glau.
It were best.
You are a damsel, and to bide with me
Would bring you shame, whether deserved or not.

Nyd.
True, true, but then—What matter how a slave
Be thought of?

Ione.
Slave! you are a slave no more.
Hold up your face, alike to gods and men,
Free citizen of Rome! There are no slaves
Beneath my roof. No man or woman there
Serves on compulsion; but for labor done
Receives that labor's worth.

Nyd.
Hear, Mother, hear!
Bend from your blest abode above the clouds,
And hear the gentle voice that says your child
No longer is a slave. Yes, twice a slave,
If gratitude can hold an honest heart
Stronger than human bondage. [Kisses Ione's hand eagerly]


Ione.
Kiss my lips:
And let the world behold how I esteem
Your purity, my sister. [Kisses Nydia]


Nyd.
Take my soul!
My body could not serve you well enough
To recompense this blessing.

Glau.
[Aside]
Peerless maid,
How this new thing discovered in my breast,
This waking heart, is throbbing at your words!
Yea, my whole nature, in a storm of light,
Bursts from its darkness, and votary kneels
Before your feet,—forever, ever, love!
The die is cast! No rest can be for me
Until by deeds, however long and hard,
I shall have won your virgin lips to own
A kindred passion. Lo! I am transformed
Out of my former self, and am become
Inspired with vigor of the deathless gods.
What can I not achieve, thus armed, to brave
Man's puny opposition? [Ione ascends her litter. Passes along, followed by Nydia, attendants, etc.]


Ione.
Farewell, Glaucus!

Glau.
Will you not change that dreary word, farewell,
To welcome for me, when we meet again?
A house so open to the world as yours,
Should not exclude me. Shall I be received?
One word, one little word, Ione!—

Ione.
Come! [Glaucus stands looking eagerly after Ione. She, in going, turns her head once, and looks back at him]