 | Gycia |  |
SCENE II.
—Outside the Palace.Megacles and Courtiers.
Meg.
Well, my lords, and so it is
all settled. We must all be on board
in half an hour. His Altitude the
Prince sails at once for Cherson, and
with a view to his immediate marriage.
Was ever such a rash step heard of?
Not twenty-four hours to get ready the
marriage equipment of a Prince of
Bosphorus. Well, well, I dare say they
would be glad enough to take him with
no rag to his back. I dare say these
rascally republicans would know no
better if he were to be married in his
everyday suit.
1st Court.
I' faith, I should never
have dreamt it. Asander, who is the
boldest huntsman and the bravest
soldier, and the best of good fellows,
to go and tie himself to the
apronstring of a Greek girl, a tradesman's
daughter from Cherson, of all places on
earth! Pah! it makes me sick!
2nd Court.
But I hear she is
beautiful as Artemis, and— Well, we are
all young or have been, and beauty is
a strong loadstone to such metal as the
Prince's.
3rd Court.
Nay, he has never set
eyes on her; and, for that matter, the
Lady Irene was handsome enough, in
all conscience, and a jovial young
gentlewoman to boot. Ye gods! do
you mind how she sighed for him and
pursued him? It was a sight to please
the goddess Aphrodite herself. But
then, our good Asander, who had only
to lift up his little finger, was so cold
and positively forbidding, that I once
came upon the poor lady crying her
eyes out in a passion of mortified
feeling.
1st Court.
Ay, she was from this
outlandish Cherson, was not she?
Aphrodite was a Greek woman also,
remember.
2nd Court.
So she was. I had
quite forgotten where the lady came
from. Well, if she is there now, and
cannot get her Prince, and would like
a gay, tolerably well-favoured young
fellow for a lover, I suppose she need
go no further than the present
company.
Meg.
My lords, I pray you leave
these frivolities, and let us come to
serious matters. Think, I beg you, in
what a painful position I am placed.
I am to go, without proper notice, as
Master of the Ceremonies of the Court
of Bosphorus, to conduct an important
Court-ceremonial with a pack of scurvy
knaves, who, I will be bound, hardly
know the difference between an
Illustrious and a Respectable, or a
Respectable and an Honourable. I must do
my best to arrange all decently and in
order, and as near as may be to the
Imperial model, and all these matters
I have to devise on shipboard, tossed
about on that villanous Euxine, with a
smell of pitch everywhere, and
seasickness in my stomach. And when I
get to Cherson, if ever I do get there
alive, I have not the faintest idea whom
I am to consult with—whether there
is a Count of the Palace or anybody, in
fact. I dare say there is nobody; I am
sure there is nobody. A marriage of
the heir apparent is a very serious
affair, let me tell you. What a comfort
it is that I have got the last edition of
that precious work of the divine
Theodosius on Dignities! If it were not for
that, I should go mad.
1st Court.
My good Megacles, I
warn you the Prince cares as little for
etiquette as he does for love-making.
Meg.
Very likely, and that makes
my position so difficult. Just reflect
for a moment. When we go ashore at
Cherson, I suppose we shall be
received by the authorities?
2nd Court.
Surely, good Megacles.
Meg.
Then, how many steps should
Prince Asander take to meet his
father-in-law Lamachus—eh? And how many
steps should Lamachus take? You
never gave the matter a thought? Of
course not. And these are questions
to be settled on the spot, and scores
like them.
3rd Court.
I dare say it won't
matter at all, or very little.
Meg.
Matter very little, indeed!
very little, forsooth! Why, in the
name of all the saints, do not alliances
fall through for less? Are not bloody
wars fought for less? Do I not
remember the sad plight of the Grand
Chamberlain, when the Illustrious Leo,
the Pro-Consul of Macedonia, had a
meeting at Court with the Respectable
the Vice-Prefect of Pannonia? Now,
the Pro-Consul should have taken four
steps forward, as being the most noble,
the Vice-Prefect five. But, the
Vice-Prefect being a tall man, and the Pro
Consul a short one, the Grand
Chamberlain did not sufficiently measure
their distances; and so when they had
taken but four steps each, there were
the two Dignitaries bolt upright, face
to face, glaring at each other, and no
room to take the fraction of a foot pace
more.
1st Court.
Faith, a very laughable
situation, good Megacles. Was it hard
to settle!
Meg.
I should think it was hard to
settle. No one could interfere; the
Book of Ceremonies was sent for, and
was silent. There was nothing for it
but that the Emperor, after half an
hour, broke up the Court in confusion,
and those two remained where they
were till it was quite dark, and then
they got away, no one knows how.
But what came of it? For fifteen years
there was war and bloodshed between
the provinces, and but for the invasion
of the Goths, there would be to this day.
Matter little, indeed! Why, you foolish
youngster, ceremony is everything in
life. To understand Precedence aright
is to know the secrets of nature. The
order of Precedence is the order of
Creation. It is, in fact, a very
cosmogony. Oh, a noble science! a noble
science!
1st Court.
Right, good Megacles,
to magnify your office. Bravery is
nothing; goodness is nothing; beauty
is a foolish dream. Give us Ceremony,
Ceremony, more Ceremony; it is the
salt of life.
Meg.
A very intelligent youth. But
here comes the King.
Enter the King, Asander, and Lysimachus.
Asan.
My liege, I do your will,
Though with a heavy heart. Farewell, my father.
If I must bid farewell to this dear City,
Which nourished me from childhood, 'tis to save it,
Not otherwise, and thou my sire and King.
From thee I do not part, and often-times,
If the saints will, I yet shall welcome thee,
When all our foes are routed and our troubles
Fled like some passing storm-cloud, to my hearth,
And set thy heir upon thy knees, a Prince
Of Bosphorus and Cherson.
King.
Good, my son,
I pray God keep you, for I dimly fear,
So dark a presage doth obscure my mind,
That we shall meet no more.
Lys.
My honoured liege,
These are the figments of a mind which grief
Hath part disordered. Thou shalt see thy son,
Trust me for it; I swear it. One thing more
Remains. I know what 'tis to be a youth
As yet untouched by love; I know what charm
Lies in the magic of a woman's eyes
For a young virgin heart. I pray you, sir,
Swear to me by the saints, that, come what may,
For no allurement which thy new life brings thee,
The love of wife or child, wilt thou forget
Our Bosphorus, but still wilt hold her weal
Above all other objects of thy love
In good or adverse fortune.
Asan.
Nay, my lord,
There is no need for oaths; yet will I swear it,
Here on this soldier's cross.
[Makes a cross with the hilt of his sword.
Farewell, my father,
I mar my manhood, staying.
King.
Farewell, son.
Let my old eyes fix on thee till thou goest
And you brave gentlemen, be faithful all
To me and to your Prince.
Lys.
My Lord Asander, Remember!
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