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Permission must be obtained from Mr. John Wenger for the use of the design for the stage setting as an actual stage set. The first performance of this play was given in the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, New York, December 28, 1910. COPYRIGHT BY JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 1918 JUN 28 1918 ©CI.A501104 P:-* TO three: WHOM I CHERISH MY FATHER THOMAS DRANSElElvD MY MOTHER EUZABETH BEl^Iv DRANSEIEI.D MY HUSBAND CI.ARENCE DEI.ANO STONE FOREWORD The suggestion for this fantasy lay in the Greek myth of the Pleiad, who came to earth to marry a mortal. The Pleiades were the seven beautiful daugh- ters of Atlas and the ocean nymph Pleione. By command of Zeus, they became a constellation, shining by night as stars; but by day, in the form of doves, they winged their way to the far Hesperides to fetch ambrosia for the Olympian King. All were content with their fate, except Merope, the youngest, who, having fallen in love iwith Sisyphus, founder and first King of Corinth, slipped down to earth to become the bride of the mortal of her choice. For this act she was forbidden to resume her heavenly station. Compensation was hers, however, since it was her grandson, Bellerophon, who, beside the magic spring Peirene, captured Pegasus, the winged horse of the Muses, thereby securing forever for mortals the service of poetry. This classical story has been used in the present play neither with desire, nor attempt, to produce, either in form, or in feeling, a Greek drama. Pleasure, outbreathing the beautiful spirit of the myth, has been the only aim. Jane Dransi^ie:i.d. CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY Sisyphus, King of Corinth. T01.MID, who plots to be king. Leontks, friend to Sisyphus. Mercury, messenger of heaven. Isidore, a toy vender. An old fisherman. BiON, the fisherman' s son. Master Workman. First Workman. Second Workman. MeropE, the Pleiad. Dian, the huntress. Pi^EiONE, mother of the Pleiades. Iris, messenger of dreams. HersE, sister to Bion. Proto, 1 Thetis, y Nereids. GaeEne ,1 Tree-nymphs, Paiins, Nereids, the Pleiades, Sun Maidens. Scene: A wooded seashore near Corinth. A spring night. PROLOGUE PROLOGUE {Spoken before the Curtain.) All gentle hearers, humbly we entreat Your courtesy for this, our Fancy's play; That it is 'writ in rhythmic lines, forgive, If rhyming be not to your taste, since what Is born poetic must its essence show, No other form could clothe so airy frame. And iif, perchance, you quarrel with the theme, That it harks back to ancient things forgot, Old myths outgrown, remember, then, that art, Presenting truth, no present knows, nor past. Remember, too, if still inclined to chide, That poets haply wait on circumstance; Their themes chose them, not they their themes, oft- times ; For with their minds at leisure, roaming free, Browsing the hills of romance, vales of song. Or wandering through the woods of legendry. Sudden a figure starts from those dim realms. And, why he knows not, bids the poet "Write !" For poets are but instruments through which Strange voices from far worlds articulate. Within the slow procession of the stars. Which nightly moves in majesty through heaven, In Taurus shine the wistful Pleiades, — That group whose rising here marks winter's reign, 13 But which in Argolis bespeak the spring, Bidding the farmer hopeful sow his grain, The mariner put forth his boats to sea; Six sisters, you may count them with the eye, But there's a story they were seven once. Ere that the youngest member of the group, The gentle Merope, slipped down to earth, Obedient to the dictum of her heart, As often maids, against all elder rule, And for forbidden love, high heaven lost. Yet so without regret, since this is truth, — That earth from heaven is no different. If one doth harbor heaven in the thought. This, then, is simple matter of our tale; — How 'Merope, the Pleiad, Dian's maid, Forsook her sisters on a summer night. And swiftly down the azure hill of heaven. Sped unto earth to marry Sisyphus, First king of Corinth, in (fair Argohs; How Sisyphus had vision of her grace In god-sent dream, which he in steadfast faith Believed, and let the vision rule his deed ; How Dian, in whose train ran Merope, With hair unbound, all ardent to the chase. Besought her, though in vain, to heaven return And how her sisters, lonesome as the heart Which finds not in a throng the one face loved, Found heaven a solitude, once she had fled. So on your kindness let our play begin. And if thereby you shall be entertained. Finding some pleasant things, or wise, herein, We who have striven, have our end attained. 14 ACT ONE ACT ONE The scene represents a wooded sea-shore. Massive rocks to the sides, zmth an open grassy glade to the front, and a pool at the base of a rock. There are entrances to left, and right. In the far distance Mt. Helicon is visible. It is sunset. Enter Iris. Iris There went a voice through heaven, plaintive, low, Yet heard to farthest limits, "She is lost! Our little sister Merope is lost." It swept along- like south wind through the trees All wet with tears, or note of instrument Responding to a heart's complaining tone. Acteon heard, and let the wild stag go To listen. Ceres stopped her golden scythe; Apollo's lute sighed soft in unison, While Daphne caught the quiver in her leaves. By every god and goddess, then, it passed. Till Echo took the sound in her thin hands, And carried it aloft to where Zeus sat, On magisterial throne, studded with stars. There standing near, I, Iris, heard the news. And swift sped down to summon Sisyphus To meet his bride, new disappeared from heaven. Here on this spot where first he dreamed of her, Swift destiny shall lead them soon to meet. Who comes? {Enter He^RMEs, cloaked.) 17 Hkrmes (Uncloaks.) I come. Iris 'Tis Hermes, Maia's son. Hhrmks But one brief moment since, and I, aloft. Stood near the circle of the Pleiades. With trembling lips, and tender, they told me Of Merope, their sister, whom they love. How she had fled from them, they deem to earth. They bid me come ere that the mischief's done, And married to a mortal, she lose heaven. Iris Why came not they themselves? HERMES The Pleiades In Taurus must remain until the dawn; Then, in the form of milk white doves released, They fly to far Hesperides to fetch Ambrosia to the Olympian king. The dawn They fear will be too late. Iris 'Tis now too late. Herme:s As earth checks time, scarce 'tis an hour ago That Merope left heaven. 18 Iris "" " : Yet 'tis too late. Time with the bond of love has naught to do. He:rme:s Love, fickle,, may be changed before 'tis law. Iris Love's law itself, if it be truly love. Herme;s I know you, Iris, and the spell you cast On men by reason of the dreams you send. Yet even you act not without command. Who sent you to arrange, or to suggest Such undesired marriage? Iris Pleione. Hkrmes Now will the sisters doubly mourn that she, Their mother, has played false. Iris ■• .'/^ '. Not false! Most true! ' For Merope, wed on the earth shall win A greater fame than had she stayed in heaven. Farewell! sweet Hermes. You and I, though fleet, Have much to do, ere we again shall meet. (Bxit Iris.) 19 Hermes The Pleiades shall learn this latest move. Against Pleione shall they pit Dian. Persuasion often wins, where fails command. Yet ere I go, I would learn certain news Of Merope , that she is here, or no. And so speed Dian without loss of time. Some one about, for gods need men, as men Need gods, perchance can give me news of her. (Looks out on the right.) Ah ! to my wish, a peasant comes. 'Tis good ! I'll question him, pretending Pm from court. (Enter the old fisherman. Hermes draws his cloak about him closely, and retires rear. The fisherman seats himself upon the rocks, and throzvs in his line. Hermes approaches him, im-^ periously.) Stranger, be off ! Go ! get you home at once. Fisherman (Unabashed.) I would like nothing better, sir. What news? Hermes This place is spot predestined, where to-night The king of Corinth comes to meet his bride, The youngest of the seven Pleiades. Fisherman I know not any neighbor Pleiades. Hermes The Pleiades, my friend, are stars in heaven. 20 Fisherman A woman, or a star, 'tis all the same. To wed is to be caught within a net. And so our young king is to marry? He:rme:s Yes. Fishe:rman Not even kings escape love's malady. Well, I can't go, till I have caught a fish. He:rme:s You should not labor when the sun is set. That is but great ambition's need. Fisherman 'Tis plain You, sir, are young. Not old! Unmarried, too. Hermes Fisherman Hermes How can that matter, even grant it true? Fisherman No matter, save it mars your judgment, friend. Iif you were married, and not quite so young, You'd know ambition's not the only spur '^o set a man to work. His wife, — 21 Hermes (Impatient.) My friend, — Fisherman An hour ago there knocked upon our dooi A pretty maid — Hermes ( Interested. ) Indeed ! Fisherman Sir, you mistake. I am beyond the age of escapades. Hermes You interrupt yourself. *A pretty maid' — I am impatient for your story, friend. Fisherman Well, being young, and it near night, and she Alone, my wife and children bid her in; One way or other, she impressed them so. My wife was shamed to offer her our food, So bid me out to fetch a fish for supper, As if she needed better food than we. I'm like to sit here, sir, from now till dawn. That's all the women know of fishing: art. 'fe Hermes (With greater interest.) Whence came the stranger? 22 Fishe:rman That I know not, sir. She gave us no account. She said her name Was Merope. That's all I know, my friend. Hermes ( Turns. ) She's close about, somewhere. {Returns to the fisherman.) Have patience, sir, And keep on fishing*. Fisherman That I'm like to do. Hermes (Shows the zmngs on his cap.) Look, there! Be careful, now. You have a bite. Fisherman (Astonished.) Why, so I have. Hermes (Shozt's his winged heels.) Another, now ! Fisherman ( Excited. ) Hark ye ! Loud talking's bad, though fishes have no ears. Hermes (Strikes the fisherman's pole with his caduceus.) There! Look, you now, a fish! Fisherman {Draws in a large fish.) I've landed him. Hermks {As a god.) Hermes rewards you, friend, for service given. Fisherman {Recognizes the god.) Thou art a god! {Kneels.) i bend my aged knees. Do me no harm. I swear that I fear thee. Hermes {Raises the fisherman to his feet.) If men hut knew how close divinity Doth walk to them in forms unrecognized. They would have less of fear, and more of power. You have no cause to fear. Arise, my friend! 'Tis meant for man to walk erect on earth. Fisherman {Rises.) Oh, take from me my hitter sting of years. Hermes Years have no sting unless ill spent. Go, now ! By reason of this fish, persuade your wife, You're still the family's head. Tell Merope That Hermes sends Diana here. Farewell ! {Exit Hermes.) 24 Fisherman (Stands a moment in astonishment too great for words, recovers, examines himself curiously.) Well, well ! Still I'm myself for all of this ; Sound head, sound legs, the self same hands, and feet, As though I'd not been talking to a god. What's more, I've landed now a three pound fish, And I'll be off with it, before night comes. (Looks out left, hastily takes up the fish.) There's two men coming down the woodsy path, — Two well appearing men, — that is, they look Like men, but may be Zeus and Hercules, For all I know. I'll not be sure of men, Or gods, hereafter. Let me go before My wits forget that I be I. One god May give a fish, another take it back. (Conceals the fish under his jacket, exits hastily. Enter, left, Sisyphus and Leontes, cloaked.) Sisyphus No more, Leontes. No more warnings, now. Nor fears, nor doubts, nor any tiresome things. No, I'll not listen. Come ! you are my friend. And friends should catch the mood of those they love Leontes. I am your friend, and subject, so obey. I'll say no more, my king, at least, not now. Sisyphus This is the place of dreams ; the slumbering sea. The woods to left and right, and these dark rocks Which over Corinth stand like Titan guard, 25 Shooting by day the sun's bright arrows back, But feeding night with silence. Yea, the place Of dreams ! Here, by this unstirred magic pool, Whose source unseen was struck at my command By Aesopus from barren rock, I lay And dreamed of Merope. Leontes. The Pleiad! Well, Some dreams come true, they say. Sisyphus (Lays his hand on Leontes' shoulder.) Incredulous, still. Yet such distrust is kinder than some faith, Winning more confidence. Upon this spot Came first light touch of Merope's fleet feet. Leontes. (Affects belief.) You saw her fall to earth, my lord ? Sisyphus Not fall;— No lawless passenger through frightened space, No outcast hurled from high Olympian throne. As Ate was, dark daughter of discord : But through the clouds descending on safe way, Swift as a meteor whose silent trail Makes night mysterious. Here, then, she came, Slender and fair as some young poplar tree, Whose new leaves shimmer to an April moon. But, ah! the star upon her forehead went. 26 Leontes. If such sweet visions fed my dreaming eyes, I'd ever choose to sleep. Sisyphus I say I dreamed. It was, however, no fancy of the night, No bright impossible figment of the mind. No common sleep ; — but as through open door, I seemed to look into another world, And what I saw I knew I must believe. (With a change.) But I for other purpose brought you here Than to describe what soon will be a deed. This is the spot where you, my friend, must lead A merry festival to-morrow. Here Let young and old join me in happiness. Leontes. You have more faith than I thought possible, So to believe and act upon a dream. I could not so, though I might willing be. By dreams to be so sweetly entertained; In dreams upon my spirit to take flight From this dull world, and soaring, wing light way, More swift than is the slender swallow's flight, Above strange seas, through groves of spice and balm. By rivers clear, and lake's pellucid stream; In dreams to shake the cares that cloak the day, And find for fretted mind divertisement Mid scenes of childhood, all too near forgot. Or early friendships pleasantly renew; To see in dreams not only things we know. But Lethe dipped to things that are, to go 27 Like bold discoverer into new realms, Our souls like Ariel speeding through the night, Whilst our dull bodies lie at home in bed. I would I knew this entertaining: art. '& Sisyphus Your raillery, Leontes, has no sting; Beneath it lies a true and loyal heart. If twe would prove, we must believe our visions ; Believing them, we then must act them out. You see the place. Make pleasure business, In honor of my bride. Leontes. My lord, I will. The peasantry shall long recall the day. Sisyphus {Leads Leontes left.) Now all the earth to drowsy quietude sinks; Soft silence reigns. Let us return, dear friend. There's naught to do here, yet. My dream did read That not till dawn would I meet Alerope. At dawn I will return alone. Leontes. Alone? Now let me speak as friend, as subject, too. This dream, and your attendant actions strange. Afford, my lord, an opportunity Long sought by Tolmid. Here you say you come Alone at dawn. You must have known, ere this, How jealous Tolmid's of you. How he seeks To be acclaimed as king next in your stead. 28 Sisyphus (Stops, astonished.) No, I've not heard this news. What, is it true? 'Tis unbeHevable. Tohnid and! I Were boys together. Leonte:s. There's the rankhng- cause. You were not born a kins^, he says, no more Than he. Fortune has favored you. Sisyphus I grant I was not born a king, who now am king, Yet from a boy I knew my destiny. Deep in my heart burned consciousness of power, Resistless flame that feeds, and yet consumes — A cruel goad, and yet, a solacer. To be a king it is to act a king, To prove in thought and deed true majesty. Yet so 'tis ever said. Whoso succeeds It is called luck. There's no such thing as luck. Our fates upon our own decisions wait, And our decisions on a consciousness Which we can not explain, yet must o'bey. 1 have no fear of Tolmid. IyEONTr:s. Yet to-night He seeks your life. And his excuse is this, — You are no longer fit to rule as king, Since swayed by fantasies. Therefore, I beg, If come you must, come not alone at dawn. Bring trusty friends with you. Sisyphus One friend, — no more. To ease you, I consent to company. Will you return with me? LeonteS. Gladly, my lord. (Exit SiSYPPHS and Leontes, left. It grows darker. Enter Bion and HtRSt, right. Herse carries a small basket.) Hkrse Do you think we shall ever find her, Bion? Mother said I must give her back these yellow stones she left on the table. Bion (Searches about.) Of course we'll find her. It isn't an hour since she knocked on our door, and mother sent father out to catch a fish. She can't have gone very far. She may be asleep hereabouts. HersE (Glances about apprehensively.) The 'woods are so still. I feel afraid. Bion That's just like a girl. You want to come along, but you don't want to stick it out. Well, go home, then, fraidy. You may see strange sights, after sunset. (Mysteriously.) They tell me, though with what truth I know not; that 30 at this time of day, and It's the same before dawn, when nature stops to take breath, and it's neither night, nor day, neither hght, nor dark, that then, the woods do not belong to mortals, not to boys and girls, like us, but to creatures we cannot see, — (Prightened.) Oh,— ,■ BlON : Fauns, tree nymphs, and nereids ! ' } Herse: (More frightened.) Oh dear, — BlON (Reassuringly.) Never mind ! I'll take care of you. :, Herse Bion, do you suppose Merope was one of those crea- tures? She didn't look like us. Bion Well, what if she was? Herse Then she'd never marry you. Bion Who said I wanted her to marry me? U He:rse: Why, when she came, you put on your best suit. BlON (Shyly.) The other seemed so coarse. Voice of a Child (Sings.) Little creatures of the wood, Fauns and nymphs, O, Spring from out your leafy bowers, Cease your slumbers midst the flowers ; Now 'tis neither night, nor day, Fauns and nymphs, O, Time it is for us to play, Nymphs and fauns, O. (Clings to BioN.) What is that? Herse BlON Be still. Don't move. (BiON and HersE cling together, at one side, in the shade of a rock. Enter a troop of little tree nymphs, and fauns. They dance, music play- ing softly outside. Then a toy zvhistle is heard, zvhich imitates a bird. The nymphs and fauns stop ; the whistle is repeated, they run off frightened. Bion drops HersE, and steps for ward. HersE follozvs.) 32 BlON There, didn't I tell you? When 'tis neither night, nor day. Herse I'm not afraid now. They are no bigger than I. BlON Herse, perhaps they'd help us find Merope. Come ! (Starts to pull Herse out. The whistle is heard again. Herse stops.) Herse What kind of a bird is that? BlON Hurry ! (Drags Herse to the exit at the left. They run into Isidore, who is entering, blozving on a toy whistle. He carries a lighted lantern, and over his shoulder is suspended a basket containing terra cotta statuettes, and colored halls. The scene grows lighter, as it would from the light of a lantern.) Isidore Stop, now ! Not so fast ! What, would you knock Isidore down? Herse Please excuse me. 33 Isidore (Adjusts his wares.) No harm done. The populace assembles already for the king's festival. I'm none too early with my wares. The first at the jug skims the cream. {Offers his zvares.) Herse Oh, what pretty balls ! BlON (Tries to drazv Herse away.) We're wasting time. Herse I would* like a ball, Bion, or a doll. Isidore Buy something, young sir? It's a gentleman's privi- lege to satisfy his lady's desires. BlON I've no money. Isidore What ? No money to spend at the king's wedding ? BlON (Tries to drazv Hkrse away.) We are from the country, sir, and know nothing of the king's wedding. 34 Isidore Your indifference is explained. 'Tis the wine of en- thusiasm which opens the purse strings. Curb your haste, and by the aid of my dolls, which the little lady admires, I will tell you the whole pretty story. Time- liness is the spirit of trade. Hearse (Resisting Bion.) Please, Bion. {B.vami)ies the wares.) LSIDORE Now, here is Atlas, the bride's father, a care worn man, since he carries the weight of the world. Here you see Plcione, her mother, and all the ladies of the family. We must not be ignorant of our best people. Here's Maia, the eldest daughter, goddess of spring, and mother of Hermes. Here's Electra, Taygete, Sterope, Alcyone, Celaeno, and last and best, Merope, the bridle herself. Bion ' Merope ! Herse Merope ! Isidore (Offers the statuette to Bion.) The king's bride! A bargain. 35 BlON (Awed.) The king's bride ! Herse, we'd better go home. (BioN t7'ies again to drazv Herse away from the dolls, fails, runs out alone.) Isidore {Aside.) 1 scent news. I'll draw it forth. (Tosses a ball into the air, then a second, and a third; keeps the three balls going.) Little lady, watch the balls ! Now this one, now that ; now this. Quite a trick, eh ? Ah ! One falls, another, and the third. 'Tis the darkness. (Herse searches for the balls. Finds one.) Herse Here's one. Isidore Never mind. Come to-morrow, and find them. Little lady, I have told you about my Merope. Tell me about yours. Herse Why, Merope came to our house about an hour ago, while we were just sitting down to supper. Then, while we were waiting for my father to bring back the fish, suddenly she saw some one she knew, though we saw no one at all, and crying out "Iris," or some- thing like that, she went away. We've been looking for her. She left these yellow stones on the table. (Holds out her basket.) 36 Isidore {Bxamines the stones. Conceals his delight.) Worthless stones ! However, I will make a bargain with you. You give me the pebbles. I'll give you the I doll Merope. (Holds out the statuette to HersE, who takes it unth pleasure.) I HersE Oh, thank you. Only it doesn't look like Merope. Isidore An ideal likeness, my dtear, a figment of the artist's imagination. Most ladies prefer such. Good night. HersE Good night, and thank you again. (Bxit Herse.) Isidore (Counts the nuggets.) So the king's dream is like to come true. Upon this mundane sphere Merope has set foot. An item of information worth its weight in gold. I can serve thereby the love sick king, or the jealous Tolmid Like an editor, I can argue with equal skill on either side. He that is shrewdest closes the best bargain. (Slips the nuggets into a pocket beneath his cloak.) And to all appearances I was wasting breath. One can never tell when good luck's about to fall. Im- patience is the sting of little minds. Therefore I 37 won the nuggets. Now, for a wink of cat's sleep, one eye open. (Lies down.) Isidore, thou dealer in gods and goddesses, wilt thou say prayers? Nay, except as wares, I have no use for gods. They sit and laugh in heaven, while we, poor devils, toil, and die. Why worship them, and beg with servile spirit, the good that should be ours unasked? The gods never gave me a night's lodging. The sky's my roof, the wind's my broom, the rain's my pail, nature's my housekeeper. ( Yawns. ) Come, sleep ! thou silent well of uncreated thought. In thee I sink myself, unfathomed friend. But first, let me put out my light. I am economical. (Isidore puts out his lantern. The scene is darkened. He settles himself for sleep. The moon rises. Upon the rocks in the rear ap- pear the Nereids, disporting themselves joy- ously.) Proto Like foam upon the water swift we glide; Upon the tide We drift to shore, Then out again to moor beneath the moon. Thetis There sporting round a rock we dive for pearls, While swiftly whirls The water round our ears, Ere there appears The mermaid's room. The chambers where they comb their long wet hair; 38 And where they wear Green gowns, whose sheen Is dimly seen, As soft they play Sad tunes upon an instrument of bone. GAI.ENE No bound we own, But free as wind, New paths we find. By night, or day. Across the seas, to south, to east, to west; In gay unrest, Like morning light. That glances bright Upon the waves, Or thoughts of poets as they idly muse. Proto Or if we chose, We sink below The undertow. To the still caves. Grotesquely carved from rocks on ocean's floor There to explore The rooms and aisles, Or swift, meanwhiles, A banquet call On coral table set with cups of shell. Ai,i, Then in cool dell. Softly we slumber, 89 Fifty in number, Nereids all. {The Nereids come over the rocks upon the glade. Thetis discovers Isidore, who pretends sleep.) Isidore Oh ! Proto, look ! Proto A man ! (They examine Isidore curiously.) Gai^ene It may be Phoebus playing he's a man, Wearing disguise for love of idle tricks. Those hyacinthine curls, those limbs divine, Where tireless strength is married to fair form, Often assume less god-like shape than this. Proto ISio, no! The sleep that sits upon these lids Is not the sleep of gods. Thetis (Discovers the basket of toys.) Why, what are these? Some balls! Catch, Nereids, catch! (The Nereids play ball.) Gai^ene (Empties the basket of balls, and then of the statuettes.) Such tiny men. 40 Proto They have form, but not breath. GAI.ENK A lucky find. ( Throws the empty basket down. It hits Isidore, who waits until the Nereids are at play again, then pushes the gasket aside, watches the Nereids zmth a wry face.) Isidore {Aside.) Lucky for them, but as for Isidore, {The Nereids exclaim with delight over the toys.) A Nereid Mine's best. No, — mine. No, — mine. Another Another Isidore Enchanting thieves ! {A voice sings outside.. .It is Merope approach- ing.) Merope's Song Where HHes blow, and roses grow, And fragrant zephyrs die. Midst daffodils and hyacinths, In dalliance dwell I. 41 The wanton wind I often bind, And drive it as my steed; With clouds for reins, and stars for spurs, Across the skies I speed. {The Nereids stop play, and frightened, retreat rear to the rocks. Enter Merope, singing the last of the song. She bears wood flowers in her hands, with garlands about her neck.) Proto A mortal comes ! Away ! Away! (In confusion the Nereids disappear over the rocks. MeropE pursues them.) MeropE Proto ! Galene ! {One or two Nereids turn, look at MeropE, do not recognize her, all disappear. MeropE comes forward, puzzled, and disappointed.) Are they afraid of me? Am I then changed? Nay! Rather are the Nereids at fault. Their eyes see naught but surface form of things. I am no different than when I kept My place among the Pleiades in heaven. {Looks up into heaven.) Ah ! heaven doth seem doubly fair from earth. {Caresses the flowers.) Yet sweet is earth. The woods, bright with spring flowers. Frail bluets, hairbells, hypaticas, and cress, Bid me dear welcome. I shall not regret. But will be happy in this new sought sphere^ {Sees the reflection of the stars in the pool.) 42 The stars ! Caught here as fallen from heaven. Sweet prisoners, companion me on earth. The nymphs shall tangle you within their hair, Drawing you down to sport beneath the waves, With pearls and coral red enticing you. (Isidore zvatches Mkrope closely, from beneath the basket, which lies over his head. He pushes it aside, about to rise, when the sound of a hunting horn is heard. He hides again be- neath the basket. MeropE springs up.) I know the sound. 'Tis Dian's silver horn. She seeks me, having missed me from her maids. I dread her loving eloquence, yet stand Firm on my own decision. (Enter Dian with hounds in leash.) DiAN Merope ! My little maid. {Embraces MeropE. The dogs run oif.) What idle trick is this? This dress, this spot, what does it mean? Play you A tree nymph, new released from aged elm, Or naiad from the brook? Tease me no more By absence, but return with me to-night. Merope I cannot, Dian, even though I would. Dian To-night the Pleiades in heaven less bright Than wonted shine. 43 MeropE One more, one less, naught should Be difference. DiAN Can you forget your birth, — Your heritage? Your golden goblet waits. Four out the wine of memory and quaff It deep. Without you heaven is forlorn. Your sisters mourn. Remember now their love ; Let pure affection in your heart have sway. MkropE Unchanged my love for them, Dian, and thee. How heard you I was here in Argolis? Dian As sped I through heaven's winding avenues. The devious pathways wide between the stars. Came Hermes to me, telling you were here. My little one ! Dian doth plead with you. To women I belong, their cause I serve; Not in their several states as sweethearts, wives. Or mothers, but as women. Ah ! I would That they had conscious pride that they were women, And loved attainment as they now love men. MeropK Dian, I'm sorry to have caused you grief. Dian Beneath a clear cold moon sat Pleione, And spun for you this web of human fate. 44 It cannot be of your own will you left The star sown fields. Your mother loves the earth. The name she gave you, — Merope, — proves that. MkropE My mother told me of the earth, 'tis true. My childish ears she charmed with wondrous tales Of crisp curled waters breaking on white shores; Of moss grown grottos, lulled by puding streams, In whose cool depths the clear eyed fishes sport ; Of sounds of soft wind's stirring new leaved trees, At whose slim base the pale blue violets grow ; She told me, too, of men. I grant this true. Yet came I down of my own will, that will Determined by necessity. I had To come, and I am happiest so, Dian. DiAN Where lay necessity? Merope Within my heart. Dian O Echo! carry not these words afar. But bury them in some dim cavern deep ! Can it be, then, that you who followed me, Are caught within that net of earthly weave Which men call love ? For shame, my little maid ; Be not so weak ! Take pattern by Dian. Merope Your heart is stern. You never have known love. Dian. Is there no love but that 'twixt man and maid? 45 What, then, is deep desire for mankind's good? Oh ! I could weep when I look down on men. They sell their souls for evanescent things ; They build false worlds, in which they suffer pain They call swift passion, love, and foolish, take Deceptive seeming for the truth that saves. And then expect to reap reward. No, child! Become not one of them. They are not wise. MeropE In heaven you never spoke to me like this. DiAN I had no cause. Now, there is need to warn. Earth's mystery has subtle, siren power; Love as men wish it, is but passion wild. And woman is the plaything of the race ; Yet doth she know she has a soul, and craves Some recognition of herself beyond The lure of sex. Diana's state is best. MeropE There must be some mistake. This can't be true. DiAN Experience alone to many minds Conviction brings. Whom is it that you love? MeropE His name is Sisyphus. 46 DiAN Corinth's great king! How came you to this choice? MkropE^ One night I looked Trom heaven to earth, and there did lie asleep Here by this pool, like some young god, the king; And he did dream of me. DiAN This is the work Of Iris, wrought by dreams. 'Tis ever thus Her rainbow fingers slip to deep recess Within the mind, attuning some fine sense To expectation of a bHss divine. Yet even so, Dian will not despair. I surely have some power, and dare to say. Between us you must choose. MtROFt My choice is made. Dian You wish me gone? MkropE Confuse not my desire. (Isidore:, from under his basket, chances to sneeze.) 47 DiAN (Alarmed.) Hush! What was that? MeropE (Pussled.) I do not know. 'Twas strange. DiAN Some mortal's near. Come, ere too late, away! Return, sweet bird, to that ethereal tree Where hangs your nest. Let earth go as it will; For if men darken their own lives through pain, Because they will not act the good they know . Even pity has no power to succor them. Choose freedom! Come! MeropE My freedom is to stay. DiAN (Turns from MeropE.) More words were vain. Yet with regret I go. (Blows her horn. The dogs return.) Ho ! dogs, the gift of Pan ; Scent up the prey. Ho ! hounds, and fare ye forth, Ere burns the day. Ye six of spotted coat. Hunt lion's lair; Ye Spartan seven swift, -Stir fauns and hare. 48 Now through the grey greenwood, Crash through the brush ; After we have passed there falls, In wake of us, a hush. (B.vit DiAN with the hounds.) Me:rope (Starts after Dian.) Dian ! Desert not now your little maid. The woods will empty be, when you are fled. (Stops.) No, Merope ! Let Dian go her way. The heart's good choice the will must consummate. Isidore: (Pushes off the basket; zvhispers.) Now is my chance. (Starts to rise ; Meropj5 sees someone approaching on the left, comes fonvard. Isidore: conceals himself again.) Not yet. Merope: (Looks left.) On evil errand bound this stranger is. No light surrounds his spirit as he walks, But like the night, his soul is robed in black. I would not meet with him; he wills naught good. (Searches for a hiding place, discovers a cave formed by the rocks in the rear zvhich she enters. Isidore rises, and lies down across the entrance to the cave.) 49 ISIDORI^ The bird is safe. This cave's the cage, this rock The door, and I, the lock upon the door, That's fitted only with a golden key. Whoever entrance gains must first pay me. Knowledge is golden ; therefore I'll be wise. (Feigns sleep. Enter Tolmid, left.) TOLMID Why should I, Tolmid, bow to Sisyphus? Injustice fans my hate, for why should he Be ever fortunate, and always gain What he desires, while ever I remain In name, place, state, to him inferior. (Comes upon Isidore.) What fellow's this, asleep upon wet grass? (Kicks Isidore, who starts up, feigning anger.) Isidore Who kicked me ? ToLMID The pleasure was mine. Isidore Apologize. Tolmid (Laughs cynically.) The fellow's drunk. Isidore I deny it. 60 , 4,..-; ;. TOLMID Why do you sleep here? Isidore: (Aside, recognising Tolmid.) 'Tis Tolmid. Lucky Isidore! (Turns to Tolmid.) My head being top heapy with the weight of some newly acquired information, I laid down, master. I had not meant to sleep. I am waiting for Tolmid. ToivMID I'olmid ? Isidore Aye, the great Tolmid, — he who stands second to the king. Tolmid Second ? Isidore Yes, master. But in my opinion, and there be many who agree with me, a man more fit to be king, than the present royal dreamer. Tolmid My friend, you speak boldly. Isidore He who thinks boldly must speak so, 51 TOLMID Since you wait for Tolmid, what can he do for you? Isidore The question is, rather, what can Isidore do for Tolmid? Much, master, much. ToLMID I am friend to Tohnid. I promise you his good will. Isidore Assist me to rise. {Holds out his hand to Tolmid, who hesitates to take it.) Well, I need more sleep. (Lies dozvn again.) Tolmid (Offers his hand to Isidore.) Pardon, friend. Isidore . (Rises, zvith Tolmid's aid.) 'Tis wise to be democratic, these days. Thanks, mas- ter. Allow me to light my lantern. Moonlight may suit lovers, but for affairs of business, give me real light. (Lights his lantern. The scene grows brighter ) So ? Master, have I your word that this is a little matter of business? Were I dealing directly with Tolmid, 52 ToivMID Let this speak for Tolmid. (Gives Isidore money.) Isidore (Counts the money.) Thank you. All trade is built on trust. (Slips the coins into his pocket.) This, I take it, is but an appetiser. The feast's to follow. For this sum, master, you might obtain a peasant maid, but I can offer you, of course, on suffi cient inducement, Toi^MID (Impatient.) To your point. Isidore Master, do you believe in dreams? Toi^mid I play no fool to fantasies. Isidore Nor I. My reason guides my will. Still, one must believe one's eyes, and with these eyes that look on you, I've seen to-night, here on this spot, this very spot, ToivMID (More impatient.) Well, talker, whom have you seen? 53 Isidore The thieving nereids. They robbed me of my wares. Proof, — my empty basket. T01.MID (Starts left.) I've no time for nereids. Isidore Wait! Also, I have seen Diana, goddess of chastity T01.MID The lady does not interest me. Isidore Listen ! Also, I have seen Merope, the king's bride. (Watches Toi^mid, for the effect of his speech.) (Alert.) The king's bride,- T01.MID Isidore The Pleiad, come to earth, a miracle. Just as the king dreamed. ToIvMID (Affects indifference. ) What matters that to Tolmid? 64 Isidore My lord, either you are exceedingly sly, or exceed- ingly slow. I incline to the former opinion, but will reply as if my wits were dull. Toi^MID (Turns from Isidore;.) Talk, talk, talk! (Turns back to Isidore;.) Well, ril hear you out. Isidore 'Twill pay you, master, to listen to Isidore. The Pleiad's here. If Tolmid should send her back to heaven whence she came, the king could not marry her. His dream would not come true, all Corinth would say he was crazy, and laugh him out. Once make a man ridiculous, and he's lost. Toi^MID. If the Pleiad loves the king, she'll not return to heaven. Isidore She'll have to, if you send her there. (Makes the motion of killing someone with the sword.) Since she's on earth, she's mortal, just like any of us. 56 TOI^MID (Aside.) My day time sense yields to this night's spell. (Gives Isidore: more money.) There's for reason gone. Where is the Pleiad? Isidore (Counts the money.) Sufficient crumbs may in time make a loaf. Double this, master. ToivMID. No more. Furthermore, if you are lying to me, and there's no Pleiad here, I shall run you through, and send your own soul back to heaven. (Half drazvs his sword.) I'll recover my money. Isidore (Frightened.) I assure you, that will be unnecessary. My soul is not prepared for heaven. This way, master. (Leads Toi^mid to the cave; whispers.) The Pleiad's here. TOI^MID If this is a trick, remember, — (Enters the cave.) Isidore If I'm caught lying, I'm run through with the sword, and losf^ '^v money. Merope may have escaped. T'tt> 56 off ! Good luck to you, Tolmld. I'll conceal my going with noise. {Picks up his empty basket, and his lantern. Goes off singing. The scene is lighted again by moon- light.) For he's a fool who does but act Upon a person's word; Yet he's a fool who does not act ^ Upon what he has heard. {The song concluded, Tolmid re-enters from the cave, leading Mi:rope:, zvho resists him, fright ened.) The churl spoke truth for once. At least, I've found A maid, — a pretty one. Merop^ Pray, let me go! T01.MID But whether you're the Pleiad, {Draws her into the bright moonlight.) Here's more light. Come ! Let me look at you. A pretty face, A slender form, a hand that's fine, with eyes That would do Venus honor. Well, and good! Yet many a mortal maid is just as fair. Give me some sign that you are heavenly maid. Merope: No sign have I, but truth within my heart. I wore a star in heaven, but it was quenched When I touched earth. I beg yon. let me p-o. 57 ToivMlD I half believe I have the Pleiad here. Each gentle word makes your release less si.ie Knov^ you who I am? MeropE Tolmid ! — he who plots Against the king. Toi^MID Nay! He who shall be king. MeropE Brazen assertion is but barren proof. Toi^MID You love the king? MkropE At dawn I'll be his bride. Toi^MID (Grasps her roughly.) I dream no dreams, but you are in my power. You think to marry Sisyphus, and so Confirm his confidence that he shall mount To higher place in public honor. No ! I'll take no risks that you are not from heaven. No Pleiad bride shall aid the man I hate. (Forces MeropE to her knees, and draws his 58 sword. Clouds obscure the moon. The scene grows dark.) Now fate is kind to me at last. MkropE (In terror.) Good sir, What ill have I done you, that you harm me? Toi^MID Your beauty pleads for you, but all in vain. Though you were thrice as fair, my will Td work. A weak will at the end thwarts ablest plan. MeropK (Stays Tolmid's hand, which holds the sivord.) The ill you seek to do me, will rebound Upon yourself. I pray you, harm me not. Such deeds. Pandora like, bear cask of woe. Toi^MiD Let come a woe more deep than Tartarus, More black than Stygian waters, and more fell Than Hydra's hiss, yet welcome would it be. So it came after I'd obtained my will. You shall not be the bride of Sisyphus. (Frees his hand, raises his sword. The scene grows so dark the figures of M^roft^ and Toi^mid are scarcely visible. It thunders.) MejrgpE Grant me one prayer, before you strike me down. 59 ToivMID Prayers do no harm. But come, be quick! I wait. Merope: {In supplication.) O mother, dear Pleione, lend thy aid. Fate tangles destiny for one thou lovest. You bade me come to earth. Oh, save me now ! ToivMID {About to kill MeropE.) Now goes your soul to heaven whence it came. {A white light appears upon the scene. Tolmid drops as if struck by lightning. Fi^eione is revealed. She goes quickly to MeropK, rais- ing her.) My child? P1.E10NE MkropE My mother, — you have come! Pi^Eione: I heard Your cry, and came, swift through the trembling night. For when a soul doth utter such a prayer, The ether trembles to the outmost zone, And he who has the power to answer, heeds. 60 MeropE (Points to T01.MID.) He wills to kill me. Pl^ElONE Child, he has no power, Save what you give him by this mortal fear. MeropE I knew not earth was thus ; it looked so fair. Oh! take me back with you to heaven kind. Pi^EiONE Speak you such timid words? Recall them, swift! Have you lost faith in your high destiny? Then learn this truth, and having learned it, live On earth immortal as you were in heaven. Until your work is done. Take courage, child. Let not the earth thought weight your spirit down. Death has no power save fear in minds of men. Repeat my words. MeropE (Humbly.) Death has no power but fear In minds of men. Forgive me, Pleione. I shall remain on earth. I am rebuked. Pleione Now speak you like my child, my Merope. Yet Hermes comes with firm command of Zeus That you return. Already is he near. 61 MeropK I shall not change. PlEionE Kiss me farewell! Merope: Farewell ! (Kisses FhtiONt, who immediately goes away. The white light remains about MeropE, al- though somewhat dimmer. MeropE stands an instant in thought; Tolmid stirs, turns. Me- ropE goes to him.) This man hates Sisyphus. {Takes up Tolmid's sword, raises it as if to kill him, suddenly throws it down in horror.) Did I this deed, I'd rank the same as Tolmid. {The falling sword rouses Tolmid. He sits up, dazed. MeropE retreats. He does not see her at first.) Tolmid {Notices the light.) What! 'Tis day? I must have lain for hours. {Reaches for his sword.) My trusty sword! The lightning- struck me, paralyzed my hand. {Rises, sees MeropE, stops, astonished. MeropE faces him fearlessly.) vStill here ? The Pleiad ? Good ! You said at dawn You should be bride. My sword will wed with yo'i. {Approaches MeropE with menace.) 62 Meropk (With dauntless conviction.) Against the Pleiad has the sword no power. (Tolmid's hand drops.) TOLMID The second time I fail. Well, be it so ! (Laughs harshly.) ''Against the Pleiad has the s'word no power!" (Raises his szvord.) But — Sisyphus ! My sword has power there. (Laughs again. Goes out with uplifted sword.) Me:ropE I sense his dreadful meaning ! Sisyphus ! My king ! my lover ! This must never be. The sword of Tolmid must be rendered dull. (MeropE turns to follozn^ Tohum. Enter H^RMts.) Hermes Daughter of Pleione,- Nay, stop me not! MeropE Hermes From Zeus I come to summon you to heaven. MeropE To heaven ! when my love is in danger ? No ! Command of Zeus is less than mother's wish, 63 And mother's wish less than decree of fate, But fate itself less than demand of love. 1 go to Sisyphus, ere 'tis too late. Herme:s You will, then, to remain on earth? Me^ropE 1 must. Hermks Farewell ! I bear, though loath, the news aloft. High heaven's lost to you forevermore. (Exit He:rme:s. As he goes, the white light fades from about Mkrope:. The scene is lighted again only by moonlight. Merope) stands with upraised hands.) MeropE One heaven lost ! Another to be gained. CURTAIN ACT TWO 66 ACT TWO The scene is the same as Act One. Dim light, which slowly changes to colors of the dawn. Six Pleiades are disclosed, dancing in stately mea- sure. They wear garments of filmy texture, and on the forehead of each shines a star. They sing. Soft music.) Chorus o^ the Pleiades Nightly we shone, Sisters seven, Brightly we graced Earth and heaven; But of the fair, fairest of all. She whom we sing, she whom we call, Merope ! Merope ! Sister ours ! Weary the waiting, weary the hours; Why did'st thou leave us? Why thus so grieve us? Lovely as Hebe Walked she heaven. Followed by leash hound, By Dian given. Golden her hair that gold fillet bound. Golden her girdle that cinctured her round. Merope ! Merope ! Sister ours! Vacant thy place is, withered the flowers, 67 Gathered at morning For thy adorning. Daughters of Atlas, Born of Pleione, Ocean sprung, mountain sprung, Mountain Cyllene; Maia, Electra, Taygete named, Sterope, Celaeno, Alcyone famed, Abiding in heaven. Must we deny thee? Merope ! Merope ! Where dost thou hide thee? Sister-love sending. Swiftly we fly. Searching all places we can descry; Warm is the warmth of love, in love abiding; vStrong is the strength of love, in love confiding. Merope ! Merope ! Little one dear! Could we but see thee, could we but hear, Thy laughter ringing, Thy tender singing! (The song concluded, the Pleiades pass quickly out to the left. Enter MeropE, from the right, dejected.) Merope It was decreed we could not meet till dawn. All night I've searched for him in vain. I pray He come now, as he dreamed, unharmed. (Six white doves fly in from the left. They flutter above MeropE.) The doves ! My sisters ! gentle Pleiades ! You fly 68 To far Hesperides to fetch for Zeus Ambrosia. Not seven, now, you go. But shorn of your dear sister, sadly six. (Caresses the doves.) Such sadness, though, is kind of happiness. Like tender music played in minor key. I'll not return to you, yet I am glad. Like scent to flower, clings sister-love to me. (Lets the doves go.) Each night I'll look to heaven, and send you prayers (The doves fly out to sea. Me:rope kisses her hands to them. Enter Iris. The dawn grows brighter. Mkrope stands in the rear, unseen by Iris.) Iris Now dim eyed night with cloud encircled form, Doth creep to Tartarus, as forth steps day. Robed in a garment woven of frail light, And gazing with blue eyes upon the world; Now tune the birds their matin orchestra, When robin's lusty note outshouts the rest; Now is the time consummate. At the dawn Shall Merope meet Sisyphus. I call The wiUing actors to their several parts. Ho! Sisyphus — ho! Sisyphus — the king. Ho ! Merope — ho ! Merope — the queen. (Mi:rope; runs forward.) Me^rope: O Iris, is he safe? Where is the king? Has harm befallen him Oh, I must hear. 69 Iris Now comes he with Leontes through the wood, To meet you here. MEROPie happy, happy dawn ! Iris Lo! see the east — The dawn has changed to rose. I must away! 1 shall be visible to you no more; But when in after dawnings you awake, As from strange, joyous dream unmemorized, Know you have been with Iris in far fields. Men call it rest in sleep; 'tis heaven, instead. Which touches them, though they be unaware. MeropE Then heaven's not lost to me? Iris If kept within The heart, heaven is never lost. Farewell! (Exit Iris.) MeropE He comes I He comes ! Then Tolmid wrought no ill. Oh, I am glad ! I'll hide within the wood ; 'Twould not be maidenly to seem in haste. I'd rather he should search for me awhile. (Goes right, stops.) What if he know me not, but ask some proof That I am Merope, as Tolmid did ? 70 Nay! that's impossible. It could not be. I've but to show him love within my eyes. (Meropk runs out, right. Enter Toi,mid, left, cloaked.) ToivMID I would that it keep dark. The night were best, For then is most effective that fell brood Which night ununioned bore: — fate, death, and sleep, Oblivion, wanton love, oaths, fraud, and pain; Contentions, doubts, disputes, and homicides — The pitiless instruments that men must use To gain their will. I thought that Sisyphus Would come, ere now. (Looks out left.) Ah ! who is this, with lights. As if it still were night? I'll not be seen. (ToivMiD retreats rear. Enter from the left three workmen, carrying lighted lanterns, which they blow out, as they set them down.) Master Workman (To First Workman.) Have you the written measurements? First Workman (Fumbles in his blouse.) I think so, master. (Takes out a paper.) Yes, here they are. Master Workman (Takes the paper, reads.) A platform to be erected, forty paces long, and thirty 71 paces wide. For the dance, I suppose. (folds the paper, puts it in his belt.) Get to work. men. Second Workman We ought to have started this work before. Master Workman My lord Leontes only gave me the order at midnight. He sent to my door, and roused me from as sound a sleep as I've had in moons. First Workman Of what is the platform to be made? Master Workman Of board planks. Did you think it was to be the platform of a political party, to exist only on paper? {Laughs at his joke.) Second Workman Where are the boards? First Workman Not arrived. Second Workman Shall we hew down trees, and make our own planks ? 72 First Workman (Sits down.) We must wait for the material, Maste^r Workman (Rouses up First Workman. Bustles about.) Wait! Not on your life. Get to work, there. Measure off the space. First Workman I left my measure in the shop. I'll go back for it. master. Master Workman Not this evening. This job is not a time job. We're on contract. Every man to finish as quick as he can. Get to work everybody. Pace the space. Quick! Second Workman How long shall I pace, master? Master Workman To the full of your stretch. First Workman (Aside to Second Workman.) The master sells lumber. He, he! To the full of your stretch. (Second Workman over paces, and falls.) 78 Master Workman (Angry at Second Workman.) What are you wasting your time for? Second Workman I overstretched, master, pacing for lumber. Master Workman {To First Workman.) Where are your tools? {Second Workman rises.) First Workman I will go for the tools, master. Master Workman Are no tools here? First Workman We thought this was a time job, master. I will go back to the shop for the tools. Master Workman {In a rage.) No tools, no boards, no anything, and you workmen doing nothing. By the dogs ! And this work on con- tract. 74 Second Workman We can't build the platform, to-night, that's sure. Master Workman I dismiss you, all, everyone of you. First Workman Listen, master. Perhaps the king's dream won't come true. Master Workman We could collect just the same, if the work was done. First Workman No man likes to be shown a fool. If the dream should not come true, the king might be exceedingly glad to have no reminders about in the shape of dance plat- forms. Master Workman He, he! And would pay us better for having failed to build the platform, than for building it. That's a good idea. Second Workman Well, since we can't build the platform, anyway, it's worth considering. {The Workmen take up their lanterns, and are about to pass out. Toi^mid steps forward.) 75 TOLMID My friends! Master Workman {To His men.) Wait, there. {The workmen pause.) ToivMID In whose employ are you? Master Workman {Offended.) I'm an independent contractor, sir. These are my men. {Bowing.) Yes, sir. Workmen Toi^MID I jow we bare our breasts, snow white, To receive thy shafts of light; Raise our arms in ecstasy, We who serve thee, yet are free. Were we bhnd, thy light we'd feel Through our veined eyelids steal ; And thy warmth would cheer our bones, Lay we chill and dull in tombs. On whatsoe'er thy glad beams rest, Is made glorified and blest. Beauty of the earth and sky. In our hearts increaseth joy; Roses shimmering with dew. Clover garlands gathered new. Pearly cloudlets edged with gold. All these do thy powers unfold. Even the silence seems to shout As the splendid sun bursts out. Now the dawn blooms into day, Slower moves our rhythmic s'way; Swallows darting here and there, Almost touch our floating hair. We the dawn and sun-rise sing, Others praise to noon-time bring; So we go, again to come, When to-morrow is begun. (Tossing their garlands upon Sisyphus and Me- ROPE the Sun-Maide:ns 7'un off. Sisyphus and Me;ropi: pass out left. Enter IsidorK from the right, with basket freshly filled zvith wares.) Isidore 'Tis never well to be discouraged, friend, For of beginning there is never an end. CURTAIN.