 | Damon and Pythias |  |
Scene II.
—The Senate-house of Syracuse.—Senators assembled.—Philistius at their head—Dionysius stands in the front of the Stage—Damocles.1st Sen.
So soon warn'd back again!
Dion.
So soon, good fathers.
My last despatches here set forth, that scarce
I had amass'd and form'd our gallant legions,
When, as by magic, word of the precaution
Was spirited to their camp—and on the word,
These Carthagenians took their second thought,
And so fell back.
Phil.
I do submit to you,
That out of this so happy consequence
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Not only is his pardon for the act
Freely drawn forth, but we are call'd upon
Our thanks most manifestly to express
For such a noble service.
Dion.
Good Philistius,
I am a soldier; yours and the state's servant,
And claim no notice for my duty done
Beyond the doing it—and the best thanks
I merit, or can have, lie in the issue
Which has most happily resulted.
Dam.
Nay,
It rests in us to say so.
Phil.
Dionysius,
The work which of this enterprise thou hast made,
Proves that our citadel, and its resources,
Have been misus'd; and never so controll'd
And order'd for our good, as by thyself;—
Therefore retain it, govern and direct it.—
Would the whole state were like the citadel!
In hot and angry times like these we want
Even such a man.
Dam.
I, from my heart, assent to
And second this proposal.
Dion.
Most reverend fathers—
Dam.
We pray thee silence, noble Dionysius!
All here do know what your great modesty
Will urge you to submit—but I will raise
This envious veil wherein you shroud yourself.
It is the time to speak; our country's danger
Calls loudly for some measure at our hands,
Prompt and decisive.
Damon
(Without.)
Thou most lowly minion!
I'll have thee whipp'd for it, and by the head
Made less even than thou art!
Enter Damon.
Phil.
Who breaks so rude and clamorously in
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Damon.
A senator!—First let me ask you why
Upon my way here to sit down with you
I have encounter'd in the open streets,
Nay, at the very threshold of your doors,
Soldiers and satellites array'd and marshall'd
With their swords out? Why have I been obstructed
By an armed bandit in my peaceful walk here,
To take my rightful seat in the senate-house?
Why has a ruffian soldier privilege
To hold his weapon to my throat? A tainted,
Disgrac'd, and abject traitor, Procles? Who
Dar'd place the soldiers round the senate-house?
Phil.
I pray you, fathers, let not this rash man
Disturb the grave and full consideration
Of the important matter touching which
We spoke ere he rushed in.
Dam.
I did require
To know from you, without a hand or head,
Such as to us hath been our Dionysius,
What now were our most likely fate?
Damon.
The fate
Of freemen in the full; free exercise
Of all the noble rights that freemen love!
Free in our streets to walk; free in our councils
To speak and act—
Phil.
I do entreat you, senators,
Protect me from this scolding demagogue,
And let us win your—
Damon.
Demagoguge, Philistius!
Who was the demagogue, when at my challenge
He was denounc'd and silenc'd by the senate,
And your scant oratory spent itself
In fume and vapour?
Dam.
Silence, Damon, silence!
And let the council use its privilege.
Damon.
Who bids me silence? Damocles, the soft
And pliant willow, Damocles!—But come,
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Go on.
Phil.
Resolve you then, is Dionysius
This head indeed to us? Acting for us—
Yea, governing, that long have proved we cannot
Although we feign it, govern for ourselves?
Dam.
Then who so fit, in such extremity,
To be the single pillar, on whose strength
All power should rest?
Phil.
Ay, and what needs the state
Our crowded and contentious councils here?
And therefore, senators,—countrymen, rather,
That we may be wiser, and better rul'd
Than by ourselves we are; that the state's danger
May be confronted boldly, and that he
May have but his just meed, I do submit
That forthwith we dissolve ourselves, and chuse
A king in Dionysius.
Damon,
King! A king?
1st Sen.
I do approve it.
2d. Sen.
Ay, and I.
Dam.
And all!
Damon.
And all! are all content?
A nation's rights betray'd,
And all content! O slaves! O parricides!
O, by the brightest hope a just man has,
I blush to look around and call you men!
What! with your own free willing hands yield up
The ancient fabric of your constitution,
To be a garrison, a common barrack,
A common guard-house, and for common cut-throats!
What! will ye all combine to tie a stone
Each to each other's necks, and drown like dogs
Within the tide of time, and never float
To after ages, or at best, but float
A buoyant pestilence? Can ye but dig
Your own dark graves, creep into them, and die?
3d. Sen.
I have not sanction'd it.
4th. Sen.
Nor I.
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Nor I.
Damon.
O! thanks for these few voices! but alas!
How lonely do they sound! Do you not all
Start up at once, and cry out liberty!
Are you so bound in fetters of the mind,
That there you sit as if you were yourselves
Incorporate with the marble? Syracusans!—
But, no! I will not rail, nor chide, nor curse ye!
I will implore you, fellow-countrymen,
With blinded eyes, and weak and broken speech,
I will implore you—O! I am weak in words,
But I could bring such advocates before you;—
Your father's sacred images; old men
That have been grandsires; women with their children,
Caught up in fear and hurry, in their arms—
And those old men should lift their shivering voices,
And palsied hands—and those affrighted mothers
Should hold their innocent infants forth, and ask,
Could you make slaves of them?
Phil.
I dissolve the senate
At its own vote and instance. (Leaves his seat.)
Dam.
And all hail!
Hail, Dionysius, King of Syracuse!
Dion,
Is this the vote?
Damon.
There is no vote! Philistius
Hold you your seat; keep in your places, senators.
Dion.
I ask, is this the vote?
Phil.
It is the vote,
My gracious liege and sovereign!
Damon.
I say nay!
You have not voted, Naxillus, nor Petus—
Nor you, nor you, nor you.
Phil.
In my capacity
As head, and organ of the city council,
I do asseverate it is the vote!
(They all kneel to Dionysius except Damon.
Dion.
I thank you, friends, and countrymen, I thank ye!
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O, all the gods, my country, O, my country!
Dion.
And that we may have leisure to put on
With fitting dignity our garb of power,
We do now, first assuming our own right,
Command from this, that was the senate-house,
Those rash, tumultuous men, who still would tempt
The city's peace with wild vociferation,
And vain contentious rivalry. Begone!
Damon.
I stand
A senator within the senate-house.
Dion.
Traitor! and dost thou dare me to my face?
Damon.
Traitor! to whom? to thee!—O! Syracuse,
Is this thy register'd doom? To have no meaning
For the proud names of liberty and virtue,
But as some regal braggart sets it down
In his vocabulary? And the sense,
The broad bright sense that Nature hath assign'd them
In her infallible volume, interdicted
For ever from thy knowledge; or if seen,
And known, and put in use, denounc'd as treasonable,
And treated thus?—No, Dionysius, no!
I am no traitor! But in mine allegiance
To my lost country, I proclaim thee one!
Dion.
My guards there! Ho!
Damon.
What! hast thou then invok'd
Thy satellites already?
Enter Procles and Soldiers.
Dion.
Seize him!
(Damon rushes on Dionysius, and attempts to stab him.)
Damon.
First,
Receive a freeman's legacy!— He is intercepted by Procles.)
—Dionysius,
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Bows her to the dust at last!—'Tis done; 'tis o'er,
And we are slaves for ever!
Dion.
We reserve
This proud assassinating demagogue,
Who whets his dagger on philosophy,
For—an example to his cut-throat school!
The axe, and not the sword. Out of his blood
We'll mix a cement to our monarchy—
Here do we doom him to a public death!
Damon.
Death's the best gift to one that never yet
Wish'd to survive his country. Here are men
Fit for the life a tyrant can bestow!
Let such as these live on.
Dion.
Hold thou there!
Lest having stirr'd our vengeance into wrath,
It reach unto those dearer than thyself.
Ha! have I touch'd thee, Damon? Is there a way
To level thee unto the feebleness
Of universal nature? What, no word?
Come, use thy time, my brave philosopher!
Soon will thy tongue cleave an unmoving lump
Of thickest silence and oblivion,
And that same wide and sweeping hand of thine,
Us'd to the orator's high attitude,
Lie at thy side in inutility.
Thou hast few moments left!
Damon.
I know thee well—
Thou art wont to use thy tortures on the heart,
Watching it's agonizing throbs, and making
A science of that fell anatomy!
These are thy bloody metaphysics—this
Thy barbarous philosophy! I own
Thou hast struck thy venom'd sting into my soul,
But while I am wounded, I despise thee still!
My wife! my child!—O, Dionysius,
Thou should'st have spar'd me that!—Procles, lead on.
[Exeunt.
| Damon and Pythias | |