 | Damon and Pythias |  |
Scene IV.
—A Dungeon.Damon discovered at a table, writing.
Damon.
Existence! what is that? a name for nothing!
It is a cloudy sky chas'd by the winds;
Its fickle form no sooner chosen than chang'd;
It is the whirling of the mountain-flood,
Which, as we look upon it, keeps its shape,
Though what compos'd that shape, and what composes,
Hath pass'd—will pass—nay, and is passing on,
Even while we think to hold it in our eyes,
And deem it there. Fie! fie! a feverish vision,
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By the weak wretch that dreams it.
Enter Procles and Guards.
Proc.
Damon, thine hour is come.
Damon.
Past, sir, say past—to come, argues a stay
Upon the coming. He has refus'd me then—
Your general, Dionysius!—the king—
He has refus'd me even this little respite
I ask'd of him?
Proc.
All! he refuses all.
Damon.
Did'st tell him why I ask'd it? Did'st explain
It was to have my wife warn'd here to Syracuse,
From her near dwelling upon Ætna's side,
To see me ere I die?
Proc.
I said it, sir.
Damon.
And he refus'd it?
Proc.
Ay, sir; he refus'd.
Damon.
Upon the instant?
Proc.
Yes, upon the instant.
Damon.
Is he not wedded?
Proc.
Yes.
Damon.
A father, too?
Proc.
He is a father, too.
Damon.
And he refus'd it!
I will attend you, and I pray you pardon—
This is no time to play the catechist—
The little boon I have to beg of thee,
It is the last; I would not fain be irksome;
It is the last I shall prefer on earth
Unto my fellow-men.—This is my testament—
I pray thee give it to a friend of mine
Who may inquire about me; he will hold it
And use it for my wife.
Proc.
His name?
Damon.
It is—
I did not wish to trust my coward tongue
With utterance of that name; I fear'd it would
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This now is childish; Pythias, sir—Alas!
To-day will prove a woful wedding-day
To thee, and thy Calanthe!—and my Hermion,
My fond, poor Hermion, and my boy—Good Procles,
Let me not stand here talking idly thus—
I am quite ready—on, sir; I attend you!
[Exeunt.
| Damon and Pythias | |