University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—Before the Palace of Admetus.
Hercules.
By Hera's eyes, a pleasant nook o' the world,
This nest of our Admetus! All the long years,
That I've been vermin-killing, he's been planting
A garden for the Muses. Well, why not?
Each man his function—so the world goes round.
This wife of his, they say, is something rare—
A thing divine; and he a constant man—
That's rarer yet. How many wives have I had?
All fair and—little else. O woman, woman,
What should we be without thee; and what things
Thy wantonness makes of us! They are burrs not anchors—
They cannot hold us long. [Enter Œnanthus.

Well, my good fellow,
What of Admetus?

Œnanthus.
He'll be here anon.

Hercules.
You have here a pleasant site, a pleasant air.
What water's that?

Œnanthus.
Bœbeis Lake.

Hercules.
Bœbeis?
A very pleasant lake—and boats upon it?

Œnanthus.
Ay, sir, there be some boats. The farmers keep
Their sheep-boats on it, and the King doth keep
His boats of pleasure on it.

Hercules.
Those are sheep
On yonder hillside? Sheep are they, or goats?

Œnanthus.
Sheep, sir; there are flocks about— there are flocks about.

Hercules.
And cows too?

Œnanthus.
Cows, sir, too—a many cows.

Hercules.
Why this is richer than Arcadia—eh?

Œnanthus.
I never saw Arcadia; but the place
Is rich enough, for that. Here comes the King.

[Enter Admetus.
Admetus.
Hail to thee, son of Zeus! Fair welcome here!
We are too long strangers, Hercules.

Hercules.
And all hail,
My dear Admetus! Thy Thessalian land's
The daintiest nook of Greece.

Admetus.
'Tis well enough.

Hercules.
But what is this? What means this robe of grief
Which ill becomes the sunshine? Thou look'st pale,
Thine eyes are red with weeping, and thy locks
Shorn—but for whom? If for thy father, surely
He dies at a ripe age. Death comes to all,
And coming late's a friend.

Admetus.
My father lives.

Hercules.
Thy mother, then?

Admetus.
Lives too.

Hercules.
What! not thy wife?
Nay, not Alcestis?

Admetus.
She is very well—
I thank the gods, my wife is very well.

Hercules.
Why then these mournful shews?

Admetus.
I mourn for one,
Not born within our house, and yet a friend—
A very faithful friend—a kinswoman
To whom I am much beholden. She lived here,
Her parents dead, an orphan—

Hercules.
Well, man, well,
This is a stroke of sorrow, to be sure,
Yet such as may be borne. A little time,
And a few tears, and thou wilt laugh again.
Man was not made for grief, say I. It eats
The sinews very shrewdly, nips the heart,
And scants the tale of daily work. The man
Who gives the flout to sorrow is a god.

Admetus.
Then I'm no god.

Hercules.
Thou takest it heavily
In sooth. I would that I could cheer thee, man—
If I could slay a monster now, or crack
The ribs of some tough giant for thy sake,
I'd do it, as soon as eat; but sorrow, sorrow,
That Hydra of the water of the eyes
Baffles my club.

Admetus.
I thank thee heartily,
And welcome thee to all the best I have.

Hercules.
Nay, to bring feasting to the house of mourning
Were but a sorry trick. I'll e'en push on,
And hope to laugh with thee when next I pass.

Admetus.
By Bacchus and Demeter, thou shalt tarry
Nowhere but here! Admetus' doors stand wide
To every stranger; and for such a guest
As Hercules their widest is too narrow.
The banquet-hall's apart. Thou wilt not hear
The women cry; and thou shalt eat and drink,
With hearty welcome, and be merry. I
Can but set lips unto thy loving cup,
And then must crave thy pardon. There are things
That ask my overlooking. This, my steward
Will give thee careful tendance. Go before
And see the lamps are lighted.
[Exit Œnanthus.
Shall we in?

Hercules.
I trouble thee too much; but take thy welcome
As freely as 'tis given; for, to speak truth,
I have scarce touched bread to-day.

Admetus.
Then let us enter.

Hercules.
When shall I see Alcestis? All the land
Sings but her praises. I am hungrier far
To see this peerless wife of thine than eat.

Admetus.
Well, after supper, after supper. Come,
All's ready. Thou must taste our wines. Come in.

[Exeunt.