by John Dryden
[ Takes it up.
Clean. No; take that too.
[Draws his, and offers it.
Cleom. Fool! wouldst thou die without defence?
Clean. I would not:
But you forbade me to defend myself,
Then, when you would not hear me.
Cleom. Can falsehood have a better argument,
Than force for its defence? Trust to that topic,
And bear thee like a man.
Clean. I think, I do.
Cleom. What kind of man is that, who dares not fight?
Clean. The man, who dares not when his honour calls,
Is what you mean, but what I never was;
For honour never summons without reason.
Force is the law of brutes: the dumb creation,
Where words and reason want, appeal to might.
I thought a king, and, what you boast, a
Spartan,
Might have known this, without the Egyptian’s telling.
Cleom. Come, come; thou dar’st not fight.
Clean. By heaven, I dare!
But first my honour must be justified,
If you dare be my judge;
For, in this crude and indigested quarrel,
If I should fall unheard, you kill your friend,
The man, who loved you best, and holds you dearest;
And should you perish in the unjust attempt,
The sword, that slew you, should revenge your death;
For I should soon o’ertake you in the way,
To quit myself before you reached the shades,
And told your tale to Minos.
Cleom. Then I must hear; but swear, swear first, I charge thee,
That, when I have pronounced, thou wilt no more
Prolong thy prattle with some new excuse:
And pr’ythee cut it short, because I faint,
And long to kill thee first — Oh, I am going!
A rising vapour rumbles in my brains,
I hear my words far off: — stand, stand, thou traitor,
And swim not thus before me;— ’tis too late;
[Puts the point upon the ground, once or twice; leans on it, and staggers.
And I fall unrevenged. —
[Offers to run at him, and is falling.
Clean. What ho, Pantheus!
[Runs to him, and takes him in his arms.
The best of men is dying in my arms,
And I want power to save him.
Enter PANTHEUS.
Panth. O heavens! what means this direful object?
Clean. Ask not, with unassisting pity; bow him forward,
Rub his numbed temples, while I wipe the sweat
From his cold clammy face.
Panth. His mounting heart
Bounces against my hands, as if it would
Thrust off his manly soul.
Clean. Wrench ope his mouth,
While I infuse these sovereign drops, whose power
Will soon recall his wandered sense —
[He instils somewhat out of a vial into his mouth.
He stirs,
And stretches now, and seems to essay his limbs.
Cleom. Where am I?
[Standing a while; they support him.
Clean. In his arms, who died with you,
And, now you live, revives.
Cleom. Art thou Pantheus?
Panth. Believe your eyes, I am.
Cleom. Speak, then, and truly (for I trust not him),
Who brought me back to life?
Panth. Who, but he, who was left single with you,
Who caught you, falling, in his faithful arms;
And, not alone sufficient to restore you,
Called aloud for my assistance.
I found him, propping you with trembling hands;
His eyes so haggard, I could scarce distinguish
Who was the living friend, and who the dead.
Cleom. All this, Cleanthes! This, what this
Cleanthes.
Panth. Yes, your Cleanthes.
Clean. Your suspected friend,
Much wronged, but ever faithful.
Cleom. Art thou sure
I live? Or am I in the regions of the dead,
And hear the fables there, myself a fable?
Panth. Go in, and see your cheerful family
Eating his bread, brought in their last distress;
And, with a good mistaking piety,
First blessing him, then heaven.
Cleom. When I hear this, I have no need of food;
I am restored without it.
Clean. Then, now hear me;
How I was forced into this seeming falsehood,
To save myself, the only means remaining
To save the man I love beyond myself,
And gain a needful credit with Cassandra:
And yet even then deceived, and sent far off
For three long days, unknowing of your wants,
Not thinking she, who loved, could use you thus.
By famishment to —
Cleom. Oh, no more! no more!
For now I understand, ere thou canst speak it half:
To thee I owed the seizing of my sword,
Lest I should fall by odds; my wife’s return,
All, all to thee; and thou art more than all.
Canst thou forgive me? Canst thou, my Cleanthes?
Can I deserve thus to grow here once more?
[Embracing him.
Let me embrace myself quite into thee.
Clean. Come, come as fiercely as thou wilt, I meet thee; — [Embraces Cleomenes.
I close within thee, and am thou again.
Panth. Why, this is as it should be.
Cleom. I could not thus have taken to the death
Another’s falsehood, but thine, only thine;
For infinitely, infinitely loving,
’Twas a wide gap thou mad’st within my bosom,
And as my soul rent from me.
Clean. But thy hunger!
This violent transport of my reconcilement
Makes me forget thy wants; when I embraced thee,
Thy spongy body dwindled in my arms,
And, like a ghost, fled from me.
Cleom. I could eat —— [Going in.
Now my first appetite of love is served;
And that was much the keenest: let us in,
For life looks lovely now, and worth preserving.
Clean. Not that way, friend;
It leads you to the women, and the boy.
Cleom. And why must I avoid those tender blessings?
Clean. Even such because they are, you must avoid them.
For I must tell you, friend, you have but time
To snatch a hasty morsel, and away:
Nothing of manhood must be clogged;, or softened,
With womanish sighs and tears, and kind adieus,
And those ill-timed remorses of good-nature,
When your whole soul is needful.
Panth. You tell us wonders!
Clean. At the king’s return,
Which daily we expect, your death’s resolved.
This hour’s your own; take it, and tempt your fortune.
Some few brave friends I hope to add;
If not, all Egypt’s numbered in myself.
Cleom. I’m all on fire. — Now for a lucky pull
At Fate’s last lottery!
I long to see the colour, white or black:
That’s the gods’ work; and if I fall their shame,
Let them ne’er think of making heroes more,
If cowards must prevail.
Panth. The fewer hands,
The fewer partners in the share of honour.
Cleom. Come, my Pantheus; — lead, my best
Cleanthes!
We three to all the world.
Clean. Magas and Liberty, let be the word:
Magas is loved, and liberty desired.
A short refection waits at the lieutenant’s,
That honest friend, who sent you back your wife.
We’ll drink a bowl of wine, and pour the rest,
Not to the dog Anubis, but to Jove,
The freer and avenger. — [Exeunt.
Enter CRATESICLEA, CLEORA, CLEONIDAS.
Cleor. Gone, and without taking leave!
Crat. The better.
He bated me the forms, and you the fondness.
Cleon. Pantheus, too, and he who brought the food,
The brave Egyptian, vanished altogether.
Cleor. O my foreboding soul! he’s gone to death!
And that Cleanthes, whom thou call’st the brave,
Has basely trained him out to his destruction!
Crat. Suspect him not; when fate was in his power,
And by a method so secure as famine,
To save us then shows he had little need
To trick my son to death.
I have a better prospect of the event.
Cleor. Dear mother! comfort me, and tell your thoughts;
For I see nothing but a gathering tempest,
Horror on horror, to the end of heaven!
Crat. No, no; you are not of a soul to bear
The mighty good and ill that meet midway,
As from two goals; and which comes first upon us,
Fate only knows.
Cleon. Then speak to me, for I can stand the shock;
Like a young plant, that fastens in a storm,
And deeper drives the root.
Crat. Thy soul’s too strong; thy body yet too weak,
To bear the crush. Be still, and wait thy doom.
[A cry within: Liberty, Liberty! Magas,
Magas! To arms for Magas, and for
Liberty!
Cleon. What noble sound was that, so smart and vigorous,
A soul in every word?
Crat. Why, that was it,
I thought was doing; but I durst not tell,
Till now it shows itself.
The work’s begun, my boy; the work’s begun;
There was thy father in that warlike shout,
Stemming the tide of Egypt.
Cleor. Oh, comfort me, my husband’s mother! say,
My lord may live and conquer!
Crat. Possibly;
But still make sure of death; trust we to that,
As to our last reserve.
Cleor. Alas! I dare not die.
Crat. Come, come, you dare:
Do not belie your courage.
Cleor. Heaven help me, I have none.
Crat. Then dare you be a slave to base
Egyptians?
For that must be, if you outlive your husband.
Cleor. I think I durst, to save myself from death.
Crat. Then, as a slave, you durst be ravished too?
Cleor. The gods forbid!
Crat. The gods cannot forbid it
By any way but death.
Cleor. Then I dare die.
Crat. I told you so; you did not know your virtue.
Poor trembling thing, I’ll warm thee in my bosom,
And make thee take death kindly.
[Another shout within — Liberty and Magas.
Cleon. What must become of me?
Crat. More trouble yet about this paltry being?
For shame, no more such qualms!
Cleon. No more such vile mistakes! I would die warm,
And not in women’s company, but men’s.
Whether some god inspires me to this act,
Or fate inevitably calls me on,
I will not, cannot stay:
But, as a generous, unfleshed hound, that hears
From far the hunters’ horn and cheerful cry,
So will I haste; and, by the music led,
Come up with death or honour. — [Exit.
Cleor. Stop him, dear mother; he may comfort us,
But cannot help his father.
Crat. The hero’s blood is not to be controlled;
Even in a child ’tis madly masterful.
But wait we patient with our petty stakes,
Which on those greater gamesters must depend;
For, as they throw, our little lots must follow,
Like sweepings of their heap.
[Cratesiclea and Cleora go in. Trumpets; a shout within — Liberty, Liberty, and Magas!
Enter Cleomenes, Cleanthes, Pantheus, followed by some few Egyptians.
Cleom. What, is this populous city turned a desert?
The cry of “Liberty” runs on before us,
And yet not one appears!
By Hercules, we drive them through their town:
They dare not stay to welcome their deliverers.
Clean. The cowards are afraid of what they wish;
And, could they be their own, they would be ours.
Cleom. They ‘re gone; we talk to houses and to walls.
Panth. Not so; I see some peeping from their doors. —
What are you? friends, or foes?
Four Egyptians appear, peeping from the opposite entrances of the stage.
1 Egypt. Friends, friends; all honest men,
And hearty to the cause.
Clean. Explain what cause; and give the general cry.
1 and 2 Egypt. Liberty and Magas.
Cleom. [In their tone.] Liberty and Magas!
The cowards whisper liberty so softly,
As if they were afraid the gods would hear it,
And take them at their word.
1 Egypt. No, friend: we vulgar never fear the gods; but we whisper, for fear our overthwart neighbours should hear us cry Liberty, and betray us to the government.
Clean. Of what side are you there?
[To the opposite Egyptian.
I Egypt. That’s according as you succeed: of your side hitherto.
Panth. If you are men, come join with us.
II — Egypt. You are too few for us to join with you; but get the greater party of your side, and we’ll be sure to help the common cry.
Cleom. Dare you do nothing to assert your freedom?
1 Egypt. Yes, — we 11 pray devoutly for you.
Clean. The brave pray with their swords; that’s a man’s part.
II Egypt. Pray with our swords, the law calls fighting; and fighting is bloodshed; and bloodshed is hanging; and hanging is the part of a dog, and not of a man, in my opinion.
1 Egypt. Every one for himself.
[Egyptian trumpets within.
The government is a-coming.
[They shrink back in a fright, and clap the doors.
Clean. Run! couch, you cowards, to your tyrant lords.
A dog you worship, and partake his nature;
A race of speaking spaniels.
Panth. Let them go; we 11 do our work without them.
Clean. The comfort is, our foes are like our friends;
Holiday heroes, drawn out once a month,
At public charge to eat, and to be drunk;
Mere mouths of war.
Enter Sosibius and Cœnus, at the head of many
Egyptians; they who spoke before bolt out of their doors, and join with them.
Sosib. ’Twas what I always feared, — even when
I saved thee, —
To find thee thus engaged among my foes:
But yet, submit; and I can yet forgive thee.
Consider, — for ’tis all I have time to say, —
Thou fight’st against thy father.
Clean. Against my father’s cause, but not my father:
If you would needs become yourself a slave,
And get me such, I must redeem us both,
And will, or perish in the brave attempt.
Sosib. Withdraw thyself from ruin, I command thee.
Clean. Command I cannot; but I beg you, sir,
Engage not for an arbitrary power,
That odious weight upon a free-born soul
.
Sosib. This is too much. — Fall on, but spare my son.
Enter Cassandra, attended.
Cas. Sosibius, hold! Withdraw your men to distance.
You know this signet: obey your king in me.
[Shows the signet.
Sosib. Never more gladly; though my son’s a rebel,
Yet nature works to save him.
Cas. Then rather than he should untimely fall,
[Cœnus draws off Sosibius’s men.
I would forgive the rest, and offer life
Even to that fugitive, if he please to treat.
Cleom. Be short; and, if you can, for once, sincere.
Cas. What can you hope from this unequal fight,
Where numbers rise from every foe you kill,
And grow from their defeat?
Cleom. We come resolved;
And to die killing, is a kind of conquest.
Cas. But are not life and freedom worth accepting,
When offered; and, with such conditions, too,
As make them both more pleasing? Your friend’s safety,
Your son, your mother, and that only she
Who loves you best, for your companion home: —
You know what she I mean. [Aside to Mm.
Cleom. No private parley; [Stepping back.
Spartans do all in public.
Clean. We know your reasons for those secret whispers;
And to your infamy —
Cleom. [Aside to him.’] Peace, peace, my friend.
No injuries from women can provoke
A man of honour to expose their fame. —
Madam, we understand each other well:
My son, my mother, and my wife restored,
’Tis peace; if not, ’tis war.
Sosib. A fair proposal: be it peace.
Cas. No, fool! ’tis war. — Know, heavy hero, know,
I gained this time for my secure revenge;
To seize thy wife and mother: and, to stab thee
On both sides of thy heart, they ‘re gone to die,
To make thy death more painful. Farewell, traitor!
And thank thyself, not me. [Ex. Cas and Sosib.
Cleom. Revenge, revenge,
And speedy death, or conquest! — Hold, Cleanthes!
Enter CLEONIDAS.
Poor boy!
By heaven, I’m pleased to see thee safe this moment,
Though I expect the next to lose thee. — Guard him,
Cleanthes: set him safe behind the front.
Clean. Come, sir, you are now my charge.
Cleon. The gods forbid
That I should seek this danger, and not share it. —
[To Cleom.] Forgive me, sir, that once I disobey you,
To prove myself your son; living, or dying,
I’ll not be less than man.
Cleom. Oh! I could chide thee;
But there’s no time for love and anger both.
Fight by my side; and heaven protect thy courage.