 | Gycia |  |
ACT V.
SCENE I.
—Outside Lamachus's palace.Megacles, Lysimachus, Courtiers, and Citizens of Cherson.
Meg.
Oh, this has been a happy
day. All has gone admirably. Not a
hitch in all the arrangements.
Precedence kept, rank observed, dresses
all they should be. I do not, I really
do not think, though I say it who
should not, that the Imperial
Chamberlain at Constantinople could have
conducted the matter better.
1st Court.
Nay, that he could not,
good Megacles. Let us hope that
what remains to do will go as smoothly.
Meg.
What remains? Doubtless you
mean the banquet. That is all arranged
long ago under three heads. First, the
order of entering the hall; second, the
order of the seats; third, the order of
going forth.
Lys.
Doubtless the last will arrange
itself. Remember, the only order of
going to be observed is this, that thou
get thyself gone, and all the guests from
Cherson gone, fully half an hour before
midnight.
Meg.
But, my lord, that is
impossible; you ask too much. How long
do you suppose it will take, at a
moderate computation, to get one hundred
men of ill-defined rank out of a room
with a decent regard for Precedence.
Why, I have seen it take an hour at
the Palace, where everybody knew his
place, and here I cannot undertake to
do it under two.
Lys.
My friend, you will get it
done; you will waive ceremony. None
but the Prince and ourselves must
remain within half an hour of midnight,
and the hall must be cleared.
Meg.
Ah, well, my Lord
Lysimachus, the responsibility rests with you;
I will have none of it. It is as much
as my reputation is worth. But if I do
this cannot you let me have a guard
of honour of armed men to stand at
intervals along the hall. I have been
longing for them all day.
Lys.
(angrily.)
Peace, fool! I have
told you before we have no soldiers
here.
[People of Cherson overhearing him.
1st Cit.
Didst hear that old man?
He believes there are soldiers here.
Whence do they come? and why did
the other check him?
Meg.
Well, my Lord Lysimachus,
if not soldiers, men-at-arms, and these
there certainly are, and highly
decorative too.
2nd Cit.
I hate these Bosphorians.
What if the rumour should be true?
Pass the word to the citizens that they
sleep not to-night, but keep their arms
ready for what may come. We are a
match for them, whatever may be their
design. To-morrow we will probe this
matter to its depths.
2nd Court.
Depend upon it, there
is no time to lose if we would forestall
these fellows. But here comes the
procession to the banqueting-hall.
[Citizens going to banquet two and two.
Meg.
(with a gold wand.).
This way,
gentlemen; this way, masters and
mistresses; this way, Respectables!
[Accompanies them to the end of the stage towards the banqueting-hall in the distance. Returns to escort another party. Musicians, etc.
Enter Senators, two and two.
Meg.
(bowing profoundly three times).
Most Illustrious Senators! this way,
your Highnesses; this way.
(To
Melissa)
Fairest and loveliest of
your adorable sex, your slave prostrates
himself before your stainless and beatific
feet (Bowing low and kissing his fingers).
Illustrious Ladies, I pray you to
advance.
Lys.
(with Courtiers standing apart).
A good appetite, my friends. Enjoy
yourselves while you may.
Bard.
We are quite ready, my Lord
Lysimachus. Are you not (with a
sneer)
for the banquet?
Lys.
In good time, in good time.
If they only knew.
[Aside.
Bard.
(overhearing.)
If you knew
all, my friends.
Meg.
(returning).
I pray you, most
Illustrious Senators, to excuse the
absence of a guard of honour.
Bard.
Nay, nay; we are peaceful
people, and have no armed men nearer
than Bosphorus, as my Lord
Lysimachus knows. There are plenty in that
favoured State, no doubt.
(confused).
What does this
insolence mean? I would the hour
were come.
Enter Zetho, with his retinue.
Meg.
Your Gravity, Your Sincerity,
Your Sublime and Wonderful
Magnitude, Your Illustrious and Magnificent
Highness, I prostrate myself before
Your Altitude. Will You deign to
walk this way?
Zetho.
My lord, I am no Cæsar,
but a simple citizen of Cherson, called
by my fellows to preside over the State.
Use not to me these terms, I pray of
you, but lead on quickly.
Meg.
I prostrate myself before Your
Eminence.
Enter Asander and Gycia.
Meg.
(returning).
Noble Prince,
will your Illustrious Consort and
yourself deign to follow me?
Asan.
Nay, good Megacles, will
you and these gentlemen go first, I have
a word to say to the Lady Gycia. We
will be with you before the guests are
seated.
Meg.
I obey, my Lord Asander,
and will await you at the door.
[Megacles, Lysimachus, and the rest, pass on.
Asan.
Gycia, though we have passed from amity
And all our former love, yet would I pray you,
By our sweet years of wedded happiness,
Give ear to me a moment. It may be
That some great shock may come to set our lives
For evermore apart.
Gycia.
Ah yes, Asander—
For evermore apart!
Asan.
And I would fain,
If it must be, that thou shouldst know to-night
That never any woman on the earth
Held me one moment in the toils of love
Except my wife.
Gycia.
What! not Irene's self?
Asan.
Never, I swear by Heaven. She was a woman
In whom a hopeless passion burnt the springs
Of maiden modesty. I never gave her
The solace of a smile.
Gycia.
Dost thou say this?
Is thy soul free from all offence with her,
If thou camest now to judgment?
Asan.
Ay, indeed,
Free as a child's.
Gycia.
Oh, my own love! my dear!
Ah no! too late, too late!
[Embraces him.
Asan.
I ask thee not
Counter assurance, since I know thy truth.
Gycia.
Speaks thou of Theodorus? He loved me
Before I knew thee, but I loved no man
Before I met Asander. When he knelt
That day, it was in pity for my grief,
Thinking thee false, and all his buried love
Burst into passionate words, which on the instant
I as thy wife repelled.
Asan.
Oh, perfect woman!
[They embrace.
O God, it is too late! Come, let us go;
The guests are waiting for us. What can Fate
Devise to vanquish Love.
[Exeunt.
1st Lab.
Well, friend, what kind of
day has it been with you?
2nd Lab.
Oh, a white day, a happy
day! Plenty of food, plenty of wine,
raree shows without end, such
processions as were never seen—the very
model of a democracy; nothing to pay,
and everybody made happy at the
expense of the State. I have lived in
Cherson, man and boy, for fifty years,
and I never saw anything to compare
with it. Here's good luck to Lamachus's
memory, say I, and I should like to
celebrate his lamented decease as often
as his daughter likes.
1st Lab.
Didst know him, citizen?
2nd Lab.
No, not I. He has been
dead these two years. Time he was
forgotten, I should think. They don't
commemorate poor folk with all these
fal-lals and follies.
1st Lab.
Well, citizen, there is one
comfort—the great people don't enjoy
themselves as we do. Did you ever
see such a set of melancholy, frowning,
anxious faces as the grandees carried
with them to-day? And as for the Prince
and the Lady Gycia, I don't believe
they spoke a word the livelong day,
though they walked together. That is
the way with these grandees. When
you and I quarrel with our wives, it is
hammer and tongs for five minutes,
and then kiss and make friends.
2nd Lab.
And fancy being drilled by
that old fool from Bosphorus—“Most
Illustrious, this is your proper place;”
“Respectable sir, get you back there”
(mimics
Megacles)
, and so forth.
1st Lab.
Well, well, it is good to be
content. But I warrant we are the
only two unhappy creatures in
Cherson to-night, who have the ill fortune
to be sober. And such wine too, and
nothing to pay!
2nd Lab.
Never mind, citizen, we
shall be paid in meal or malt, I dare
say, and we are bound to keep sober.
By the way, it is a curiously contrived
bonfire this.
1st Lab.
It will be the crowning
triumph of the whole festival, the
senator said.
2nd Lab.
But who ever heard of a
bonfire on a large scale like this, so
close to an old building? You know
our orders: we are to place lines of
faggots and straw close to the building
on every side, well soaked with oil,
and certain sealed vessels full of a
secret compound in the midst of them.
And just before midnight we are to run
with torches and set light to the whole
bonfire, to amuse the noble guests at
the banquet.
[Irene at a window, overhearing.
1st Lab.
Ah! do you not see? It is
a device of the Senate to startle our
friends from Bosphorus. The faggots
and straw blaze up fiercely round the
wall; then, when all is confusion, the
substance in the sealed vessels escapes
and at once puts out the fire, and the
laugh is with us. Our friends from
Bosphorus know what we can do in
chemistry before now.
2nd Lab.
Faith, a right merry
device! Ha! ha! What a head thou
hast, citizen! Well, we must go on
with our work. Lay the faggots evenly.
Ire.
(at the window above).
Great God! what is this?
We are doomed to die!
Know you my brother, the Lord Theodorus?
I have something urgent I would say to him.
I will write it down, and you shall give it him
When he comes forth from the banquet.
[Disappears.
1st Lab.
Good my lady. Her
brother, too, she calls him. I go bail
it is her lover, and this is an assignation.
Well, well, we poor men must not be
too particular.
2nd Lab.
No, indeed; but let us
get on with our work, or we shall never
finish in time.
Ire.
(reappearing).
Here it is. Give
it him, I pray, when he comes forth.
'Tis a thing of life and death.
1st Lab.
So they all think,
Poor love-sick fools!
Ire.
See, here is gold for you—
'Tis all I have; but he will treble it,
If you fail not.
1st Lab.
Lady, we shall be here,
We must be here. Fear not, we shall not miss him.
SCENE II.
—The banquet hall.At a table, on a dais, Zetho, Asander, Gycia, and Senators; Lysimachus, and Courtiers of Bosphorus. Magnates of Cherson at cross tables. Asander, Lysimachus, the Courtiers, and Senators Seem flushed with wine.
Zetho.
I drink to him whose gracious memory
We celebrate to-day. In all our Cherson,
Which boasts descent from the Athenian race,
Who one time swayed the world, there was no man,
Nor ever had been, fired with deeper love
Of this our city, or more heartfelt pride
In our republican rule (Lysimachus sneers)
, which freeborn men
Prize more than life. I do not seek to bind
Those who, long nurtured under kingly rule,
Give to the Man the love we bear the State;
But never shall the name of King be heard
In this our Cherson.
Lys.
Archon, 'twere unwise
To risk long prophecies.
Bard.
Be silent, sir,
If you would not offend.
Zetho,
I bid you all
Drink to the memory of Lamachus
And weal to our Republic.
Lys.
Shall we drink
Its memory, for it has not long to live,
If it be still alive?
Bard.
It will outlive thee.
Thou hast not long to live.
Lys.
Longer than thou,
If swords be sharp.
Zetho.
I pray you, gentlemen,
Bandy not angry words.
Gycia.
My Lord Asander,
Thy cup is empty. Shall I fill it for thee?
Thou lovedst Lamachus?
Asan.
Ay, that I did;
And I love thee. But I have drunk enough.
I must keep cool to-night.
Nay; see, I fill
My glass to drink with thee.
Asan.
Well, well, I drink,
But not to the Republic.
Gycia.
Ah! my lord,
There is a gulf still yawns 'twixt thee and me
Which not the rapture of recovered love
Can ever wholly bridge. To my dead father
I drink, and the Republic!
Lys.
Which is dead.
Bard.
Nay, sir, but living, and shall live when thou
Liest rotting with thy schemes.
Enter Megacles.
Meg.
My Lord Asander,
A messenger from Bosphorus, just landed,
Has bid me give thee this.
[Gives Asander letter.
Asan.
(reading)
“My Lord, the King
Is dead, asking for thee.” Oh, wretched day!
Had I but gone to him, and left this place
Of sorrow ere he died!
Gycia.
My love, my dear!
Thou wilt go hence too late. I would indeed
The law had let thee go. Sorrow like this
Draws parted lives in one, and knits anew
The rents which time has made.
Lys.
The King is dead!
Ay, then long live the King of Bosphorus!
And more ere long!
Bard.
Think you that he will live
To wear his crown?
Zetho.
Brethren, the hour is late,
And draws to midnight, and 'tis time that all
Should rest for whom rest is. (To Bardanes aside)
We must consider
What change of policy this weighty change
Which makes Asander King may work in us.
Bard.
(aside).
Nay, nay, no change!
He is a murderer still,
And shall be punished were he thrice a king.
Asan.
Good night to all. And thou, good Megacles,
Thou wert my father's servant, take thy rest.
Go hence with these.
Meg.
I have no heart to marshal
These dignitaries forth. My King is dead;
I am growing old and spent.
Zetho.
Daughter, remember
Thy duty to the State.
Gycia.
I will, good Zetho.
I am my father's daughter. Gentle Sirs
And Ladies all, good night.
[Exeunt omnes except Asander and Gycia; Lysimachus and Courtiers by one door, then the Chersonites by another opposite.
Asan.
Dearest of women,
How well this fair head will become a crown!
I know not how it is, but now this blow
Has fallen, it does not move me as I thought.
I am as those who come in tottering age
Even to life's verge, whom loss of friend or child
Precede them but a stage upon the road
Which they shall tread to-morrow. Yet am I
Young, and thou too, my Gycia; we should walk
The path of life together many years,
But that some strange foreboding troubles me.
For oh, my dear! now that the sun of love
Beams on our days again, my worthless life
Grows precious, and I tremble like a coward
At dangers I despised. Tell me, my Gycia,
Though I am true in love, wouldst thou forgive me
If I were false or seemed false to thy State?
Hast thou no word for me? May I not tell thee
My secret, which so soon all men shall know,
And ask thy pardon for it?
Gycia.
Say on, Asander.
Asan.
Know, then, that soldiers sent from Bosphorus
Have long time hid within our palace here—
Long time before I knew, or I had nipt
The treason in the bud; and in an hour
Or less from when we speak, they will go forth,
When all the citizens are wrapt in sleep
After the toilsome day, and seize the gates,
And open to the army which lies hid
On board the ships without. They will not shed
The blood of any, since the o'erwhelming force
Will make resistance vain. I never liked
The plot, I swear to thee; but, all being done,
And I a subject, dared not disavow
That which was done without me. But I have forced
A promise that no blood be spilt.
Gycia.
Asander,
I have known it all, and have discovered all
[Asander starts.
The secret to the Senate! But I knew not,
Save by the faith that is the twin with love,
That thou didst follow only in this plot,
And wert unwilling; and I do rejoice
Thy hands are free from blood. But oh, my love,
Break from these hateful men! Thou art now a King,
Thou canst command. Come, let us fly together;
There yet is time! I tell thee that this plot
Is doomed to ruin. Ere the morning dawns,
All but the guilty leaders will be sent
Prisoners to Bosphorus, and thou with them.
I have gained this on my knees; but for the guilty
The State has punishments.
Asan.
Gycia, thou wouldst not
That I should break my faith? 'Tis a King's part
To keep faith, though he die. But when they have seized
The city, then, using my kingly office,
I will undo the deed, and make alliance
Taking my Queen with me.
Gycia.
Then must I go;
I cannot live without thee.
Asan.
Now to rest,
If not to sleep.
Gycia.
Good night, my love; farewell.
Asan.
Nay, not farewell, my love!
Gycia.
Ah yes, farewell!
Farewell! farewell for ever!
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
—Outside the banquet hall. Darkness.Gycia hurriedly descends the steps, closing the great doors of the banquet hall softly.
Gycia.
I hear no sound within; the lights are gone,
And all the hall is dark. These doors alone
Of all the many outlets of the palace
Remain unlocked. There is not now a moment
To lose ere midnight comes, and here I hold
The safety of our Cherson. Oh, my love!
I could not tell thee all, nor recompense
Thy faith in me, since duty held me fast—
My duty which should also prove thy safety,
For now the solemn promise of the State
Is pledged to hold thee harmless, and defeat
The shameful plot I knew was never thine,
Without one drop of bloodshed. All my path
Shows clear as noonday, and I save our city
And those who with thee err in innocence.
Why do I hesitate? Yet does some dark
And dreadful presage of impending ill
So haunt me that I know not how to face it.
I dare not do it. I must stay with him,
Or bring him forth with me.
[Ascends the steps, throws open the doors, and finds all darkness and silence.
Asander! husband!
It is thy wife who calls! Come forth, Asander!
[Listens.
Nay, there is no one there. I cannot stay;
This is mere folly. I must keep my word;
There's not a moment's time, or all is lost.
Which is the key?
[Closes the doors and locks them with a clang.
I must go forth alone
To the Senate-chamber. I have saved our Cherson
And my Asander!
[Totters down the steps and exit hurriedly.
SCENE IV.
—The Senate-chamber.Zetho and Senators; afterwards Gycia.
Zetho.
What is the hour?
Bardanes.
It wants five minutes only
To midnight. Think you she will come?
I know her.
She is the soul of honour, and would keep
Her word if 'twere her death.
Bard.
But would she keep it If 'twere her lover's?
Zetho.
She thinks not that it is,
Nor should it be, indeed, were we but true
As I believe her.
Bard.
True! There is no truth
In keeping faith with murderers; they must perish
In the same net which they laid privily
Against a faithful city.
Enter Gycia, tottering in, with the keys.
Zetho.
Hail, noble daughter! Thou hast saved the State.
I knew thou wouldst not fail us.
Gycia.
See, good Zetho,
The proof that I have done my part to you.
There are the master keys of all the doors
Within the palace. When I closed the last,
A few brief minutes since, there was no sound
Nor light in hall or chamber; every court
Was silent as the grave.
Bard.
Ay, as the grave
It is, or will be soon.
Gycia.
What mean you, sir,
I pray you? I am but a timid woman,
Full of foreboding fears and dread of ill,
And such a doubt doth overspread my soul,
Hearing thy words, I think I shall go mad.
Nay, Zetho, he is safe; I have your promise
Thou wouldst not harm him. An o'erwhelming force,
Thou saidst, should so surround them that resistance
Were vain, and ere the dawn they should go hence
Without one drop of bloodshed.
Zetho.
Ay, my daughter,
Such was the promise.
Bard.
And it will be kept.
[Bell strikes midnight.
Hark, 'tis the hour! An overwhelming force
[A red glare rising higher and higher is seen through the windows of the Senate-chamber. Confused noises and shouts heard without.
Surrounds them, but no drop of blood is shed.
All will go hence ere dawn.
Gycia.
Oh, cruel man,
And most perfidious world! Oh, my Asander!
To die thus and through me!
[A violent knocking is heard at the door.
Enter Theodorus in great agitation, and Irene, who throws herself on her knees, weeping. Gycia falls swooning in Zetho's arms.
Zetho.
Whence com'st thou, Theodorus?
Theo.
Straight, my lord,
From Gycia's palace.
Zetho.
Say, what didst thou there?
And what of horror has befallen thee
That makes thine eyes stare thus?
Theo.
Most noble Zetho,
When from the banquet scarce an hour ago
And bade me read. 'Twas from this woman here,
My sister, and it told of some great peril
By fire, which she, within the prison locked,
Expected with the night. Wherefore I sped
With one I trusted, and did set a ladder
Against her casement, calling her by name,
And bidding her descend. But no voice came,
And all was dark and silent as the grave;
And when I called again, the Prince Asander,
From an adjacent casement looking, cried,
“I had forgot thy sister. Take her hence;
She should go free!” And then, at her own casement
[Gycia revives and listens.
Appearing, he came forth, and in his arms
A woman's senseless form. As they descended
And now were in mid-air, there came the sound
Of the bell striking midnight, and forthwith
In a moment, like a serpent winged with fire,
There rose from wall to wall a sheet of flame,
Which in one instant mounted to the roof
With forked red tongues. Then every casement teemed
With strange armed men, who leapt into the flames
And perished. Those who, maimed and burnt, escaped,
Ere they could gain their feet, a little band
Of citizens, who sprang from out the night,
Slew as they lay. The Prince, who bore my sister
Unhurt to ground, stood for a moment mute.
Then, seeing all was lost, he with a groan
Stabbed himself where we stood. I fear his hurt
Is mortal, since in vain I tried to staunch
The rushing blood; then bade them on a litter
Carry him hither gently. Here he comes.
Enter Citizens, bearing Asander on a litter, wounded.
Gycia.
Oh, my love, thou art hurt! Canst thou forgive me?
I thought to save thee and the rest. I knew not,
I did not know! Oh, God!
Asan.
I do believe thee.
The fates have led our feet by luckless ways
Which only lead to death. I loved but thee.
I wished thy State no wrong, but I am dying.
Farewell! my love, farewell!
[Dies.
Gycia.
Oh, my lost love!
[Throws herself on the body and kisses it passionately.
Zetho.
Poor souls! Mysterious are the ways of Heaven,
That bound their lives together.
Bard.
That dead man
Would have betrayed our State, and thou dost pity!
So perish all the enemies of Cherson!
Gycia
(rising).
Nay, sir, be silent. 'Tis a coward's part
To vilify the dead. You, my Lord Zetho,
I had your promise that you would hurt none
Except the guilty only, and I thought
That to your word I might entrust my life
And one more dear than mine; but now it seems
That in some coward and unreasoning panic
This worthy Senator has moved his colleagues—
Since cruelty is close akin to fear—
To break your faith to me, and to confuse
The innocent and guilty, those who led
And those who followed, in one dreadful death!
I pray you pardon me if, being a woman,
Too rashly taking part in things of State,
I have known nought of State-craft or the wisdom
Which breaks a plighted word.
Zetho.
Daughter, I would
Our promise had been kept, and I had kept it
But that the safety of the State to some
Seemed to demand its breach.
Gycia.
Farewell, good Zetho,
And all who were my friends. I am going hence;
I can no longer stay. There lies my love.
There flames my father's house. I go far-off,
A long, long journey. If you see me not
In life again, I humbly pray the State
May, if it think me worthy—for indeed
I have given it all—bury me, when I die,
Within the city, in a fair white tomb,
As did our Grecian forefathers of old
For him who saved the State; and, if it may be,
Lay my love by my side.
Zetho and Sens.
Daughter, we swear
That thou shalt have thy wish.
Gycia.
I thank you, sirs.
Then, I may go. Kiss me, good Theodorus:
I am no more a wife. I know thy love,
And thank thee for it. For that wretch whose lie
Has wrecked our life and love, I bless the gods
That I am childless, lest my daughter grew
As vile a thing as she; and yet I know not.
She loved him in some sort, poor wretch, poor wretch!
But now I must be going. 'Tis past midnight;
[Snatches a dagger from Theodorus's side.
But I have saved the State.
[Stabs herself and falls on Asander's body.
Citizens of Cherson bursting in.
Cits.
The State is saved! Long may our Cherson flourish!
The State is saved! Long live our Lady Gycia,
Who saved the State!
Gycia
(rising a little).
Yes, I have saved the State!
[Falls back dead.
Citizens
(without).
Long live the Lady Gycia!
| Gycia | |