University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

An Apartment in the Palace. Dionysius seated, perusing a Scroll. Present, Parasites and Guards.
DIONYSIUS.
Ah, here's true inspiration! Dorian numbers,
That charm the ear with limpid melody,
And shining thoughts forged in poetic fire!
I marvel not that the Athenian youth,
Raised on the pinions of my soaring fancy,
Was terror-stricken at his exaltation,
And vented all unconsciously his wonder.
Here is the verse that so inwrapped his soul.

FIRST PARASITE.
Is it, most mighty liege, but mightier poet,
That passage which thy majesty vouchsafed
Graciously to rehearse, the other day,
Where Polymestor, of his sight deprived,
Heaps curses on the ruthless dames of Troy?
O, that indeed was beautiful!—most grand!
Methought I never heard a more divine—
A more—Your majesty!—

DIONYSIUS.
Dolt! dotard! driveller!
By all the gods forsaken and accursed!
'Twas from Euripides—that feeble passage:—
I but compared it with the imprecation
Which, in my poem, I make Ajax utter
Against the sons of Atreus. Tasteless blockhead!
Since thou'rt so charmed with Polymestor's ravings,
Thou shalt partake his doom. Ho! guards! The quarries!
There let the varlet study to distinguish
Between Euripides and Dionysius.

[First Parasite is dragged away.
SECOND PARASITE.
In sooth, my liege, thy sentence was too lenient;
But 'tis thy failing—clemency.

DIONYSIUS.
Be silent!
Who asked thy comments, babbler, on my failings?
Was ever king so hedged by fleering fools?
Enter Phormio and Philoxenus.
Aha! my young Athenian! Give you welcome!
Philoxenus, we must be better friends.
Be seated, gentlemen. The feast is ready—
Ambrosial meats—an intellectual feast.

PHILOXENUS,
(aside.)
Would that I were an intellectual ostrich!

PHORMIO.
My liege, the prisoner whom we just encountered
Besought our intercession—

DIONYSIUS.
Let him pass!
Bœotia never bred a bigger ass.

PHORMIO.
He but entreats the priceless privilege
Of listening to thy poem.

PHILOXENUS.
After which,
We do not doubt, my liege, he'll die content.

DIONYSIUS.
Bring back the culprit: tell him he is pardoned.

PHORMIO,
(aside to Philoxenus.)
The invention was well-timed.

PHILOXENUS,
(aside to Phormio.)
Remorseless Phormio!
Would'st thou reserve him for a crueler doom?

FIRST PARASITE,
(entering and kneeling to the King.)
My gracious master!

DIONYSIUS.
Rise! Thy wish is granted.
Philoxenus, you've never heard our “Ajax,”
If I remember?

PHILOXENUS.
You forget, my liege:
I was a listener at the royal theatre
On its first presentation.

DIONYSIUS.
There 'twas murdered,
Unconscionably murdered by the players.
The rascals! I improved their elocution
Before they quitted Syracuse.

PHILOXENUS.
And how?

DIONYSIUS.
Cut out the tongue of every one of them.
Didst ever have a tragedy performed?
Be happy, in thy inexperience, then!
More woful than the woe of Niobe
Was it, to see the children of my brain
Dismembered, mangled, strangled, torn and swallowed,
By those word-butchers! Maledictions on them!
Great Nemesis! I let them off too lightly.

FIRST PARASITE.
Indeed, my liege, 'twould only have been justice
To have tried the new-made engine on their limbs;—
That would have served them after their own fashion.

DIONYSIUS.
Well thought of! But, Philoxenus, now tell me,
What thought you of the play?

PHORMIO,
(aside to Philoxenus.)
For Xanthe's sake,
Be prudent now.

DIONYSIUS.
Which passage pleased thee best?

PHILOXENUS.
The closing one, my liege.

DIONYSIUS.
Ay, that was fair;
But which didst think most moving?

PHILOXENUS.
'Twas all moving.
(Aside.)
And yet I sat it through!

DIONYSIUS.
Indeed, I'm glad
It pleased thee.

PHILOXENUS.
Said I that?

PHORMIO,
(aside.)
Restrain thy tongue.

DIONYSIUS.
How! Pleased it not? Speak out, Philoxenus!
I prize judicious censure. Think me not
One of those tender-skinned, conceited scribblers,
Who, prurient for praise, recoil and smart
Under the touch of blame.

PHILOXENUS.
That's wise—that's royal!
For, let this be admitted: the true poet
Carries the consciousness of his high gift
Like an impenetrable shield before him.
He knows his oracles are from the gods,
And, like the gods, immutable, immortal,
Albeit the tardy age receive them not.
What though the laugh of bigotry and hate,
The taunt of scurrile infamy and falsehood,
The sneer of worldly-wise expediency,
Fall on his ears? The echo is not heard
In the serene seclusion of his soul!
'Tis the false prophet whom the critics reach:
Never a true one by their shafts was wounded.

DIONYSIUS.
My thoughts, adroitly uttered! Tell me now,—
Now that I know to value thy opinion,—
Wast thou not charmed with “Ajax”?

PHILOXENUS.
Frankly, no.

DIONYSIUS.
Dost jest?

PHILOXENUS.
The gods forbid, so great a king
Should be a poet!

DIONYSIUS.
Insolent! Thy life—

PHORMIO,
(to Philoxenus.)
Rash one! Thou'rt lost!

FIRST PARASITE.
Ho! Democles and guards!
Seize on this churlish traitor.

PHILOXENUS.
Why, thou viper!
Art thou already warm enough to sting?

DIONYSIUS.
No poet! I no poet! Democles!
Conduct this carping rebel to the quarries.

PHILOXENUS.
The quarries! Are they always good, my liege,
In such distempers?

DIONYSIUS.
What distempers, sirrah?

PHILOXENUS.
A sort of indigestion of the mind—
A state in which the judgment cannot stomach
What's put upon it.

DIONYSIUS.
Drag him from my sight!

PHILOXENUS.
And wilt thou then be any more a poet?

DIONYSIUS.
Away! No words! Now, Phormio, thou shalt hear
The rest of “Ajax.”

PHILOXENUS,
(to the Guards.)
Quick, quick to the quarries!

[Exit with Guards.
PHORMIO.
My liege, he's mad! Forgive him; spare my friend!

[He kneels to Dionysius as the Scene closes.