LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Chap.. Copyright No. Shelf.iHi7.2f UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ZENOBIA: A TRAGEDY IN THREE ACTS AND EIGHT SCENES, a (Eonfrtieratc (Sptsotic Together With five KHaymth §hgttie8 A/ WILLARD DOUGLAS COXEY, \\ D Author of "Her Sacrifice," a Domestic Drama; "A Hypnotic Crime" and "The Other Woman's Husband," and Co- Author of the Anglo-Swedish Comedy, "Yon Yon son." il CHICAGO, ILL. 1897. jO 6 Copyright, i897, By WILLARD D. COXEY. All Rights Reserved. ($mracfor& in t\\t $lfou. Draco, an Athenian General. Marcius, Draco's Ward, a Captain in the Athenian Army. Diomed, a Merchant, Father of Zenobia. Philander, a Privileged Slave. Leonidas, a Young Soldier, Nephew to Draco. Lysander, a Phoenician Soldier in the Persian Army Zenobia, Wife of Draco. Theodosia, Niece to Draco. Lydia, Maid to Zenobia. First Soldier. Second Soldier. Messenger. Judges, Soldiers, Citizens, Slaves, etc. Note.-- Although the battle of Marathon has been utilized as the background for the play, no effort has been made to be his- torically exact, either in the characters or the action. The critical student of history will also discover some very apparent anach- ronisms, which can only be excused on the ground of dramatic license. W. D. C. Maywood, III., Feb. i5, i897. Ztnoh'm : a (JTragetrg* ACT I. Scene -Hill in Draco's Palace, Athens. Time-49o B. C. Philander. Women are puzzling creatures all ; There's no philosophy can solve them. {Enter Lydm.) O, ho ! 'tis thou ! Oh-h-h-h ! thou fickle jade ! Where are the nectars, fruits and nuts Thou promised me on yester eve ? Methinks some other got my sweets. Lydia. And I do think thou art a dunce. 5 Dost think me such a wasteful maid To give such dainties to a fool ? Phil. What's that ? a fool ? More foolish she Who speaks her mind without forethought ; Who feels contempt, and shows it in her face. They're wise who hate, and yet pretend to love ; They nurture friends at trifling cost. Lydia. Such friendships wither i' the making. An honest maid does well to speak her mind. .-. 3 ' Phil. Her mind? a woman with a mind? Oh-h-h-h-h ! Here's meat for philosophy ! Lydia. I will be gone — I'll stay no more To hear the babbling of a slave. Phil. A slave? Nay, twice a slave^J A slave to Draco and — to thee. By Zeus, I'd have thee bear with me : I'm not so ill-favored as I seem. Lydia. . Thy words would fret a goddess, 6 §mobm : it JUjsrngcdg. And I — I am anything but that. Phil. Nay — 'pon my soul, I did but jest ! Thou art a goddess — as fair as Juno, And in wisdom like Minerva. All women are goddesses. In Draco's eyes The drapery of his wife hides sprouting wings. Oh, ho ! an old god he to wed so late So young a goddess. In love, old men are blind; Draco is doubly old, and doubly dull o' sight. Lydia. What dost thou mean? Phil. {Singing). Six months wedded are Draco and Zenobia. Draco loves the lady--the lady loves not "he." Theodosia, Draco's niece, despised, is filled with jealousy, And e'en a witless slave can tell That trouble's sure to be. Ho ! ho ! The world's n p]?y For such as we to laugh at. Lydia. This is scandal. Phil. Ay, scandal, with truth for a setting — Fit gossip for generals' wives and archons' widows. But of this we'll chatter more anon — 7 Thou art a sweeter morsel for discussion. {Sings.) Oh, maiden fair, with the flaming hair, Dost thou for Philander care, An' wilt thou marry me ? {He puts his arm about her waist, and she pushes it away.) Lydia. Nay, thou must not — an honest maid am I. Phil. And I an honest man. {Kisses her. She feigns anger.) Lydia. Oh, shame ! I fain would hide my face. I prithee let me go. Phil. {Releasing her.) There ! thou art released. Lydia. I — I would not be unkind. But 'Twere ill-luck to keep a kiss bestow'd by fraud. I charge thee, take it back ! Phil. In truth will I, and that with eager haste. {Kisses her.) There, thou hast good luck again, And I, sweet maid, have a pair of kisses. Menobkt : a ^r^gcdg. (Enter Zenobia and Marches from centre.') Marcius (Laughing). Heigho ! another fool in love ! Zenobia. What ! hast thou been to the philosophers That thou hast become a cynic? Ah, good Marcius, he's not so much a fool. Besides, 'tis nature — let's give our blessing : More women marry fools than wise men. Phil. Thanks, my lady, thanks. (Sings.) Oh, tender the heart that loves, itself— It judges others kindly ; Old age and youth are wed in vain When lovers go it blindly. Zen. (aside). What means the slave? Can he suspect? (Aloud.) Philander's in a merry mood. Phil. Twice merry, my lady — why not? Within the bonds of General Draco Am I not a slave? — and yet I've won a maiden's heart. Mark you, a maid ! I make no love to wives. (Aside, as Zenobia starts.) That reached the quick. (Exits centre , bowing.) Mar. (aside). This fellow's words have double meaning. 9 Mcnobin : n j^nujccfo. Can he think I am Zenobia's lover? Zen. (to Lydid). Blushes become thee — And yet thou art young to be in love. Lydia. In love, my lady? Nay, Thou didst but interrupt a game. Mar. {laughing). A game? Heigho ! a game? By all the graces is her meaning plain. She angles for the slave, and then of him — makes game ! Who says that coquetry is a thing of station? Zen. Well said, good Marcius — but enough of merri- ment. Go, Lydia, and say to Draco, my lord, I will be with him presently. (Lydia exits, left. Zenobia reclines on couch ) Repose thyself, Marcius — I wish to hold Serious discourse with thee. My heart is heavy, And I need the sympathy of honest friendship. Thou art my friend? Mar. (Sitting beside her.) Thou art Draco's wife. What's dear to him Shall ever claim my loyalty. §enob'ui : a j^ntgccfo. Zen. On yester eve I spoke to thee of one Whose love I hold more dearly than my life, And yet whose name I dare not speak in Athens. Of this dear one I fain would tell thee more, But first, upon thy honor, must thou pledge thy- self, In payment for my confidence, to keep my trust. Mar. I am already pledged — Let all the gods be witness to my oath ! Zen. My father is by birth a Phoenician : I, myself, was born within the walls of Sidon, That city which, they say, the gods did build. I had a bi' other — A manly, noble youth— a nobler man. He loved beneath his rank. My father, deep- incensed, Cursed him, cast him off, and swore His eyes would never look upon his face again. Lysander went away, and I, a child, Wept for many a weary day, because I loved him, Loved him more than sisters often love, For ail our early life was spent together, With never one to come between us. For years My heart has yearned to see Lysander's face, Zatobin : a j^ragccfo. To press his hands, to look within his eyes And read the loving spirit that I knew of old. But this has been denied. My father, now become a citizen of Athens, Lest he make his standing insecure, Denies his only son ; while Draco, Who doth still believe my mother was a Greek, Has naught but scorn within his heart For all who own the blood of dark Phoenicia. — Thus have we been kept apart. To-day I learned my brother was at Marathon. Mar. Thy brother at Marathon? Zen. Alas ! in the Persian army. Mar. Among the soldiers of the invader ! Zen. 'Tis true — among thy enemies And the enemies of my adopted country ; Yet does my soul cling to him With all the tender yearning of a sister's love — Courting all danger — braving all condemnation, That I may see my brother once again. Good Marcius, thou wilt aid me? Mar. I would, my lady, but Mmohm : a ^rnqcdtJ. Zen. Thou dost not fear ? Mar. I never knew the meaning of that word till now ; And yet I have no dread of danger or of death ; It is disgrace that frights me most. To aid thee must I be false to Draco. Zen. No, no, Marcius, I would not have thee be untrue Either to thyself, thy country, or to Draco : Still, thou art a soldier, and a soldier's cunning May find the means to aid a helpless woman Without treason to the cause he loves. Sweet friend {caressing him), Thou art my only hope— thou wilt not say me nay! Mar. Almost dost thou persuade me — and yet — And yet is my conscience ill at ease. Zen. Thou canst make me happy if thou wilt. Mar. {Rising.') What wouldst thou have me do? Zen. Enter the Persian lines. Find Lysander And guide him hence. A good disguise, And bravery such as thou, I know, possess, j3 Are all that's needed to complete the task. {Rises, and seizes his hands. ) Marcius, bring thou here to me my brother. And thou shalt have my everlasting gratitude ! — Say thou wilt do this for me ! Mar. {Aside.) My judgment tells me that I err ; but when Did soldier ever fail to play The gallant to a woman's tears? {Aloud.) I'll do it, Zenobia ; tho' it cost me dear, I'll bring to thee thy brother here ! Zen. Ah, my good, my noble friend, I knew thou wouldst consent. But when — When shall I see Lysander? Mar. To-night — if so we do return to camp. Trust me, Zenobia, thou shalt see thy brother. But now, farewell — thy husband comes, And for a little space I would not meet him. {Hurriedly presses her hands, and exits centre. ) Zen. {Resuming her position on couch.) Ah, me! I must be calm, Else will I betray myself, and all my scheming come to naught. Lysander, dear, this very night, if all goes well, I'll see thee once again — feel thy arms about me, Thy kisses on my lips. Yes, Lysander, Thou art, for this brief time, my brother! To-night, I'll call thee what thou art — my lover! {Enter Draco, left.} Draco. Zenobia! (She does not answer.} Zenobia. Zen. {indifferently . ) Yes, my lord. Dra. Thou art not thyself to-day — nor hast thou been For a month or more. Art thou ill, Zenobia? Zen. No, my lord. Or unhappy? No, my lord. Dra. I would I had thy confidence, That I might share thy thoughts with thee.— Hast thou wearied of thy aged husband? Zen. Why dost thou ask that Which thou canst better answer for thyself? Dra. Six months and more have we been wed, iS Dra. Zen. §enobm : n j^rxgetfg. And still I feel thy heart does not respond to mine. Canst thou not love me, Zenobia? Zen. Why wilt thou weary me? I — I love thee. Dra. Thy words doth lack the fire of fond regard, Else am I foolish — made childish by my love! They say, old fools are young fools thrice over. Zen. I love thee ; — what more wouldst thou have me say? (Rises, and walks to centre. . Draco follows and attempts to caress her. She draws away. ) Dra. I would not be unjust — and yet Thou hast a strange way to show thy love. Zen. Still do I love thee. Be content ; And if thy love for me is such as thou doth still protest, Leave me to myself; that — I may think of thee. (Permits him to kiss her.') Dra. Now thou art thyself again! Had every day a gift for me so sweet as this, I'd live a thousand years, and every year Would forge a stronger chain To make me more thy slave. — Ah, Zenobia, am I not favored of the gods To have thee for a wife? {Hastily seizes her hand, kisses it, and exits right. ) Zen. Love him? With all my soul I hate! A woman never loves but once, And tho' my husband claims my hand, Lysander has my heart! [Enter Lydia, centre.*) Lydia. Quick, lady, quick! — thy father hast returned! Zen. My father? Then must I prepare for him! {Both exit, centre. Theodosia and Leonidas enter from left.) Leonidas. Wilt thou not rejoice with me — a captain? Theodosia. Hail, Captain Leonidas — hail! Indeed, the title suits thee well. For thy sake I would 't were nothing less than general. Leon. And I, for thy sake, would it were a crown, 17 gcnabm : a §ragcdg. That I might dare to lay it at thy feet, Fearing not to call thee queen. Theo. Thou art a foolish boy. Say no more — One victory's enough to-day. {Enter Marcius y centre.} Good Marcius, what troubles thee? Mar. {Smiling. ) Not thou,, sweet cousin. Theo. When dost thou return to camp? Mar. Perhaps to-night. The Persian hosts have left their ships, And on the plain pi Marathon Prepare to give us battle. — Before another day has passed We'll drive the tyrant to the sea, Or say farewell to Athens. {Marcius and Theodosia walk to left, and speak confidentially. ) Leon. {Aside). 'Tis Marcius she loves! How every action speaks the thought within her mind. I will be gone— I dare not stay 18 gmobm : n §rage#g. Lest all the jealous hate within me rise To do them both some injury. {Exits right.) Theo. I'm no less brave than other women are, And yet I fear the issue of this war. The lives of those I hold most dear Will be in peril. Mar. Thou needst not fear for Draco. His single arm Is strong enough to put to flight a thousand Persians. Theo. My uncle? Yes, I've heard it said A braver soldier never in all Greece was known ; And tho' I do respect him much, I've other, dearer friends than he. Mar. [Laughing ) I did forget Leonidas. Theo. Leonidas, indeed! Now dost thou jest — A pretty, clever boy- — I like him much — - He is my cousin — nothing more. Canst not think of others, nearer, dearer yet? Mar. I know there is no other maid in all fair Athens Whose friends are numbered by so many score : i9 Indeed, I've often envied those who call thee so. Theo. And thou dost call thyself a soldier, To envy that which daring never failed to win— A woman's friendship? Mar. Then might I dare ? {Enter Zenobia from centre. ) Theo. Hush—! Zen. Good friends, I did expect to find you here, And in that expectation came to bring good news. My merchant father hath returned to Athens. Mar. Comes he from Tyre? Zen. So am I told ; and brings new slaves, rich jewels, Women's goods from Persia, Indus spices, And pretty gawds to tempt the vulgar herd of Athens. (Com motio n ou tside. ) 'T is he! Diomed comes! Oh, lucky day That brings my father safely home! Behind the curtains will I hide until he call me. {Secretes herself behind curtains, left. Draco and Diomed enter from centre.} §cnobin : n %rn%tt\£. Dra. Welcome to Athens, tho' thy coming Is ill-timed. A soldier may not play the host When duty calls him to the camp. — Still, thou art welcome. Diomed. I thank thee, Draco. But where's my daughter? Zen. {Advancing from curtains.') Here am I, father! Dio. Zenobia, my child! {Embraces her.) Zen. 'Tis sweet to see thee— sweet to know That, dangers past, thou hast returned. — Good sire, I pray thee go no more. Dio. Nay, and I will not. This voyage Hath well enriched me. 'T will be my last. My bones begin to feel the touch of age ; I'll stay, and my daughter shall see more of me. {Turns to others.} Forgive me, friends, but With my daughter I would speak alone. Dra. Thy wish shall be respected. §etwbm : a Uragccfo. Come, Marcius — and thou, my niece. (Draco, Marcius and Theodosia exit centre. Diomed seats himself.} Dio. Come, Zenobia, kneel beside me here, Where I can read thy heart. {She kneels.} Six months have passed since last I saw thee ; Then thou wast a new-made bride ; Now thou art a full-fledged wife. — Thou art content? Zen. Content? What mockery to ask! Can youth enchained be e'er content? Dio. J Why dost thou speak in riddles? Zen. Then will I be more plain. Father, I hate this man ! Against my will I married him. 'Twas thou who forced it. I loved him not — I cannot love him now! Dio. Thy words doth grieve me much. I never thought to hear thee thus berate thy sire. Go! Thou art an unfeeling child! (Pushes her away. She clings to him.} gmobm : a $r*gedg. Zen. Forgive me, father. 'Tis wrong for me to speak, Still, is it in my mind, and what's within is better out. For thy sake have I tried to love him, Yet he doth but grieve my heart. {Weeps. ,) Dio. {Aside.) The leaven works ! She'll break the spirit of this haughty Greek, And bring disgrace upon his name. I love the nymph, and yet revenge is far more sweet. {Aloud.) Weep not, my child. Thy duty is to Draco — See that thou doth fail him not. {Enter Draco and Marcius, centre. ) Dra. Still here? I would necessity Had not compelled us to intrude. — A word with thee, Diomed. {Diomed and Zenobia rise. Draco and Diomed walk to left, and Zenobia and Marcius to centre. ) Zen. Thou wilt not forget, Marcius? Mar. I will not fail thee* 23 Zen. Thou little knowest the service thou wilt do me ; I cannot pay thee as thou wilt deserve. Mar. Thy gratitude is reward enough. (Messenger rushes in and hands Draco a paper. Draco steps apart to read it. ) Dio. (Looking at Zenobia and Marc ins. ) So! 'tis this young Greek who holds her heart! Her love for him shall be the means I'll use to undo Draco! Dra. [Reading letter.) How's this? Word from Miltiades? The plan of battle has been formed, And ere to-morrow's sun has set We'll try our strength with Persia. — Diomed, thou wilt pardon us — we must away! ( Turning to Marcius. ) We must to camp at once! Prepare thyself, And, within the hour, meet me in the portico. (Draco turns to Diomed. Zenobia reaches out her hand to Marcius, luho kisses it, and hurriedly exits, left.) Dra. (to Diomed.) The fate of Attica rests upon this battle, And failure means the loss of Athens. 24 Metwhin : u JfWr#rr/#, Stay thou here, and, should I fall, Remember, all I have is thine in trust For my dear wife, Zenobia. Dio. With me thy wish is law. Dra. Then — farewell. {Clasp hands.) Zen. (Aside.) Oh, Lysander, dear, if thou shouldst fall, And I should never see thy face again, Death might find me here and welcome! (Draco approaches Zenobia, and Diomed secretes himself behind curtains, left. ) Dra. Why dost thou weep, Zenobia? Zen. For dread of danger to my love. Dra. Thou dost weep for me? Zen. Ay, for my love. Go! The gods defend thee! Dra. (Einbracing her.) Farewell, sweet wife! Zen. Farewell. (Exit Draco, centre. ) §mobm : n §[ragcdjt. The blind old fool ! What right Has he to think himself my love? Mercy 't is he's gone! I scarce Could all my hate contain, And in my fury might have ruined all. Dio. {Looking through curtain, rubbing his hands.} She loves the youth! — she loves young Marcius! Soon shall I be revenged ! Zen. (77/ r o wing h erself upon tli e cou ch . ) I pray the gods the battle's not to-night, For so will Marcius bring to me my love. Be still, my heart, and trust in fate — 'Tis but a little while to wait, And then, if fortune doth betide, I'll have Lysander at my side! END OF FIRST ACT. 26 genobm : a §rxgcdg. ACT II. Scene i— Garden of Draco's Palace, Athens. Evening. Theo. {Entering from left a?id seating herself on rustic bench.*) What secret understanding can there be Between Zenobia and Marcius? I watched them as they bade farewell, And all the jealous rage within me woke To see her smile adieu! 'T is court'sy overdone — such sweet farewells Are only meet for lovers' partings. {Enter Diomed, right.') Dio. Who's this — Theodosia? Dost thou enjoy the evening air in solitude, When lover's nonsense might, forsooth, Beguile the passing hour? Where's Leonidas? Theo. I know not — 't is not for such as he 27 §cnabid : n ^rxgedg. To waken thoughts of love. Dio. Forgive me — I would not willingly offend. I have seen you much in company, And did think you were betrothed. — An old man's want of tact — naught else. — 'T is Marcius you love! Theo. I would not speak of that. Dio. Then, 'tis true — thou lovest Marcius? Theo. He loves not me. Dio. Still, thou dost love him? Theo. (Aside.) Why should I fear to speak? (Aloud.) I do — with all my soul I love him! Dio. And he loves thee not? Theo. Alas! I thought he loved me once. Dio. Perhaps he loves thee, and hesitates to speak. 28 Mmohiit : a ^nqedg. Theo. I fear another has his heart. Dio. And she ? Theo. It were unmaidenly to speak her name — Thou must not ask me. Dio. I know the truth already! 'Tis Zenobia — my daughter — Draco's wife! Theo. Thou sayest truly — 't is Zenobia. Dio. And she returns his love? Theo. Thou art her father— I would not speak. Dio. And I would have thee tell the truth . This thing hath much interest for me. Theo. Well, then — I did believe she loved him. Dio. I know it! What's more, I know that here, within the hour, 29 They'll meet again and pledge their secret vows. 'T is but two hours from the camp, And Marcius will find some pretext to return. Theo. They'll meet, and here? The thought Is maddening! And yet, why should I care? He loves not me. Dio. Under these very trees he'll speak his loving words, And she will rest upon his heart! Theo. {Excitedly springing to her feet.) Ah! why dost thou torture me? Dio. Because it is a wanton insult! He makes your love a passing jest, And flaunts my daughter's weakness in my face! Were I a woman, and thus betrayed ! Theo. What wouldst thou do? Dio. I'd have revenge, altho' it cost my life! Theo. And so would I — but what Can women do when thus depised? 3o Dio. Listen. — Let us secrete ourselves by yonder bush ; There will we wait and watch, and with Our very eyes behold the lovers meet — Drink to our fill of hatred, and then While I remain to guard my daughter, Thou shalt away to camp to tell the tale to Draco, And bring him back to witness their intrigue! Thus shalt thou be revenged ! Theo. A fury's in me! Love is sweet, but sweeter still's revenge! I'll do it! Let's wait, and, if 't is true — If Marcius and Zenobia meet — Love shali not stay me, but jealous rage Shall speed me on my errand! Dio. Hush! — someone comes — let us retire. (Theodosia and Diomed retreat behind bushes, left. Zenobia enters from right.) Zen. It is the hour, and this the place ; 'T is here Marcius promised to bring Lysander. The gods grant no mishap may befall them, For delay is torture, and moments, while they come not, 3i §ciwbi;t : it j^ntyecfn. Seem like leaden hours. How still's the night! The air is heavy, and a tearful dread Rests on my heart. What if Marcius is betrayed, Or Draco has divined the truth! Oh, foolish heart! It is a woman's way to think of ills When naught but happiness awaits. They'll come — I know they'll come — Lysander loves me far too well To tarry when I bid him hence. Ah, Lysander! It were a crime to love thee — yet My heart can love none else. Thou art my life, my soul, my other self— I cannot live without thee! {Nightingale sings. Zenobia listens. ) What's that? Marcius? Nay, 'twas but a nightingale on yonder bough. Sweet songster of the night, I pray thee Sing again and give me courage! Why do they stay? Good Marcius, I wait thee — come, And with thee bring my love, Lysander! {Enter Marcius from centre. ) Mar. Zenobia! Zen. Is it thou, Marcius? 3 2 Mar. Yes, 't is I, Zenobia. Zen. The fates be praised! I 'gan to think thee false, Or else that fortune had betrayed us. Mar. That were a cruel thought — I have risked much to aid thee. Zen. I know thou hast ; forgive me ; In my heart I knew that thou wert true. — But, where's my brother? — where's Lysander? Mar. In the shadow of yonder wall. I feared to bring him here lest his garb betray him. Zen. Good Marcius, thou art the best of friends, And thus I show my gratitude. {Impulsively kisses him.') Thou hast this night a kindness done me That I will well repay ; but now, I pray thee, Take me to Lysander. I am all impatience, And would see my brother! Mar. Then come ; 't is but a step away. 33 Thou shalt speak to him alone, while I Will wait within the shadow of the trees. When thy brother's ready to return A signal will recall me. {Exit together, centre. Diomed and Theodosia enter from left.') Dio. Did I not tell thee true? Theo. Alas, he loves her, and my heart is scorned! Let's watch a little longer — then I'll away ; Revenge shall give me strength ! Dio. Lead on — I'll follow. ( Theodosia cautiously exits, centre, followed by Diomed. Zenobia and Lysander enter, right. ) Zen. Lysander, dear — art thou in truth Lysander? And am I Zenobia? Do I but dream, And is this thy shade, and not thyself, That holds these arms about me? Kiss me, my love, that I may know Thou art a substance, by the pressure of thy lips. Lysander {Kissing her). It is no dream. Thou art my own Zenobia, and I, Lysander! 34 These arms that now embrace thee Are the arms that held thee long ago In that sweet time when all the earth Was filled with joy, and all the flowers sang, Because the gods had joined our hearts. Zen. And is thy love for me, Lysander, As deep and true as in those vanished days, When every loving speech of thine Was a vow of everlasting constancy? Lys. Deeper, by far, Zenobia ; for then I was a boy, And, with the fickle fancy of a youth, A face more lovely than thine own — If such a one in Sidon had been found — Might then have wooed me from thy side ; But parting made me what I am to-night — a man! And tho' thy father, apostate as he is, Renounced his country and became a citizen of Athens, And by that self-expatriation hoped To cut the bonds that bound thy heart and mine, In all the passing years my heart has held But one sweet image — thine! Without the missives Fondly writ by these dear hands, I should have grieved my heart away, Or, in desperation, risked my life, genabid : # §rugcdg. And come to thee in Athens. Zen. And now thou art here. Lys. Yes — with thrice ten thousand Of thy countrymen and mine. Zen. Soft! — thou wilt be overheard ; All here think I am a Greek. Lys. And what if they knew else? Zen. Why — my husband Lys. Thy husband ? Zen. Yes ; dost thou not know I am the wife of Draco? Lys. A wife? Thou a wife? Ah, Zenobia, how quick thou didst forget me! Zen. Hush, my love! Lys. Thy love? Nay, 36 §cnobm : n ^rnqcdg. Never more will I be love of thine! Why didst thou bring me here? Was it to tell me this — that thou, The woman whom I loved — Whose face has been my guiding star On many a bloody field of war — Pledged to be mine, by all that's good above And all that's pure below — Is now the wife of this rich Greek? Farewell ! {Starts away.) Zen. {Clinging to him.) Nay, Lysander, thou shalt not go! Hear me first, Then, if thou wilt, condemn me! By all the good within me do I swear That, while my hand belongs to Draco, My heart is truly thine! Lys. But still thou art his wife! Zen. ? T is true, Lysander ; yet I do protest 'T was by no wish of mine. My father, For some purpose which I know not of, Compelled my marriage with the Greek. For months I struggled to escape, And on my very knees implored release ; The love I bore thee gave me strength, But nothing could avail against his will. — 37 gctwlmi : u Mnigcdg. This mockery of marriage did prevail, And Draco is, within the law, my lord ; But, while the fetters bind my hands, They cannot bind my heart! Lys. Oh, that thy father were not thy father, That I might reckon with him! ~ , Zen. ■ Nay, my love, speak not against my sire. He may have seen the future as we lovers see it not, And in my marriage thus with Draco Thought to keep me safe from harm. Lys. Then thou art content? Zen. Content, my love? Content only as I lie within thine arms, And feel thy kisses on my lips! Content with Draco? A question thou doth ask To which thy very self doth make reply! Why art thou here to-night? — and why Do I dishonor brave to meet thee? Because I am content with Draco? Ah, Lysander, how canst thou be so blind? Lys, No longer blind am I ! Truth is in thine eyes, 38 Mmabm : a j^rngcdg. And I know I am beloved ! Now that I have found thee I will not let thee go! Zen. What wilt thou do? Lys. What wouldst thou have me do? Zen. What thou wilt. Lys. Then, thou shalt depart with me! In Phoenicia Thou wilt forget thou ever had a father Or an Athenian for thy husband. Zen. Wherever thou goest, I will go with thee! Lys. Then come. (Lysander starts to exit centre, leading Zenobia by the hand. Diomed enters and confronts the/n.^) Dig. Stay! Zen. My father! 39 gcnobm : a grnqtig. & Lys. (Covering Ins face luith his cloak.} Diomed ! Dio. Who is this gay gallant who tempts thee From thy duty as a wife — Marcius? {Lysander uncovers his face.) Not Marcius? — who, then, is this? Lys. One who might teach thee duty to thy country And justice to thy daughter! Dio. An insolent slave! Lys. Thou - Zen. Hush, Lysander — hush! Revile him not — He is still my father. Dio. Ay, thy father — and thou the wife of Draco. ( Turning to Lysander. ) So, thou art Lysander? Lys. Ashamed I never yet have been To own my name. I am Lysander! 4o gcnabm : it §rnijcttiJ. Dio. {Starting toward exit, right.} A Phoenician!— an enemy to Attica! A spy! What, ho! the watch! (I'll have thee apprehended !) What, ho! the watch! {Lysander draws his sword and bars the way. Zenobia springs between themS) Zen. Lysander! father! Diomed! Wilt thou make thy daughter's heart bleed more? And thou, Lysander, wouldst thou kill my sire? Dio. What, ho! — the watch! Treachery! What, ho! the watch! {Rushes toward opposite exit. Lysander follows, brandishing his sword. Zenobia throws her arms about Lysander' s neck and restrains him. ) Zen. Stay, Lysander, stay! Let not bloodshed Mar the happiness of this night! Get thou back to Marcius — quick — Before my father can return, And, if the gods so will, meet me here, To-morrow night, at this same hour, And by the stars above us do I swear To follow thee where'er thou wilt! genabid : a ^rxgetlg. Go, Lysander, and I will overtake my father, Ere the guard is nigh, and give thee time To get away from Athens. Lys. Then, to-morrow night, at this same time, Come vict'ry or defeat, thou 'It find me here. 'Til then, farewell ! {Embraces her.*) Zen. Farewell, Lysander! Lys. {As he exits centre.) Farewell ! Zen. Now must I find my father. Father! Diomed! father! {Runs off left.) Scene 2— Before Draco's Tent, in the Grecian Camp, on the Hills above the Plain of Marathon. Two Hours Later. Theo. {Entering with Philander, left. ) This must, indeed, be Draco's camp, And here, I take it, is his own marquee ; But, now I'm here, my courage fails, And makes me fear my uncle. Phil. Then take an humble slave's advice — Bottle anger — throw jealousy to the winds— 42 §enobm : n j^rxgcdg. Return to Athens, and — go to bed. Theo. Nay, nay, Philander, I'll never sleep again Until the fickle heart of Marcius feels The penalty of his treason. Phil. Ah, well, a woman's way is not a man's way — Nor a slave's way, either. My way lies yonder. I'll leave thee to master Draco. (Starts to retire, right, and encounters Leonidas.*) Leon. Stay, slave! What brings thee hither? Phil. That which hath taken many a wiser man Hence and hither a woman. Leon. (Looking at Theodosia, who hides her face. ) A woman! Thou rogue — her name? Phil. Now canst thou prove I am indeed a fool ; I know her well, and yet her name I cannot say. Ask her thyself, good soldier. (Leonidas advances to centre, thus barring the way to the tent. Theodosia throws back her drapery. ) Leon. Theodosia! Sweet cousin, whither goest thou? 43 Theo. To General Draco. Leon. To General Draco? 'T is a strange hour To visit our uncle in camp. Theo. Still must I see him. Leon. I fear he'll not receive thee. Theo. He'll not refuse to see his niece. Let me pass, Leonidas. Phil. Ay, let us pass, Leonidas. Leon, {to Philander.} Slave! advance a step, and through thy body Will I pass this good spear! . - Phil. Then, indeed, will I be passed, and thereby Saved the trouble of passing henceforward. Leon. Hold thy tongue, thou crack-brained babbler! Phil. As thou wilt. True philosophy teaches men- gmolm : d §rnqc(h. And women, too, for that matter — To bridle their tongues. {Puts dagger in his month.*) Now, being bridled, wilt thou not say I am a philosopher? Theo. Time flies! — precious minutes wasted! Let us pass, Leonidas. Leon. Not 'til I know thy errand. Theo. Thou didst not treat me thus in Athens. Leon. I do but execute our uncle's orders. Theo. Once I thought thou didst care for me. Leon. Thou knowest I love thee. Theo. Then by that love I do implore thy help. Take me to the General. 'T is A matter which concerns him near. Leon. A matter that concerns our uncle? gcjwbht : Can give no reason, 't will but confirm The jealous fears of Draco. Dra. {Impatiently.} Come,, come— I wait for thee to speak! Mar. Alas! I cannot answer thee. Dra. Then thou art false! Nay, more — Thou art a traitor to thy country's cause! Mar. A traitor? Dra. Ay, traitor! There is a law in Attica which decrees That he who leaves the camp upon the eve of battle Shall pay forfeit with his life! Thou art a traitor, and shalt die — The law shall give me my revenge! {Rushes off. ) Mar. Is this a dream, and am I Marcius? 'T is indeed a nightmare, and when awake I'll laugh to think of what I've seemed to suffer. Alas, it is no dream — I am awake, And what doth seem a dreadful vision Is an all too true reality! §enobm : d W ni 8 e( h* Guiltless tho' I am; for that dear lady's sake I dare not speak. Ah, Zenobia, sad it were to think That, while I may not speak, because My promise binds, yet my silence cannot save thee ; But thou wilt confess the truth, and thus Thy honor and my fair reputation save; For tho' the law is stringent, and my act a crime, Draco will shield me when he knows the truth. What spying eyes beheld me in the garden? What sland'rous, lying tongue has brought To Draco's ears the story of a false intrigue? Oh, shame upon his venomed tongue! May palsy seize upon his arm, And Jupiter's thunderbolts blast his sight! Had I the wretch before me now The infernal powers of earth and air Would not stay my hand! I'll go to Draco And force from him the coward's name — Once found, I'll kill him, tho' he be My nearest kin! {Starts toward entrance. ) Theo. ( Whispering. ) Marc iu s ! Mar. (Pausing.) Thou here yet? — I thought thou hadst gone 55 gcnabm : d gmqcdg. (A sudden thought strikes him ; he gazes at Theo- dosia in horror ; then shakes his head.) No, no, it cannot be! And yet Her coming here to-night, at such a time! — It must be she! Altho' I'd rather death should strike me Than to learn that Theodosia was so false! Theodosia, say it was not thou! (Theodosia springs from the conch, and falls on her knees at his feet.) Speak, speak — I bid thee speak! Theo. Mercy — mercy — it was I! Mar. Thou, Theodosia? Theo. Yes ; I saw thee in the garden with Zenobia ; I saw her kiss thee — saw her take thy hand — And then, inspired by Diomed, came And told the tale to Draco. Mar. And thou didst this — thou, Theodosia? Oh, shame! I'd rather see thee dead. Theo. Oh, Marcius, turn away thine eyes — I cannot bear to feel them looking into mine. 56 genabid : d %m$tdg. I am too weak to face thee — on my soul There rests the burden of my guilt! Mar. Ah, Theodosia! Little dost thou know what thou hast done! A soldier does not fear to die — It is disgrace that wounds him most. Theo. Forgive me, Marcius ; I loved thee, And my heart was filled with envy When I saw thee with Zenobia, My crime is black — but jealous. love's the cause. It is not modesty to speak, but speak I will — I love thee, Marcius — I love but thee! Mar. Thou lovest me — me — Marcius? Oh, say those words again — look up — Give me thine eyes, and let me read within thy soul That thou dost speak the truth! Theo. I love thee, Marcius ; it was my love That brought me here. Mar. Thou lovest me? — thou, Theodosia — The niece of Draco, and the sweetest maid gcnobm : a §ntgcdg. In all fair Athens? Ah, thou dost but jest with me. Theo. 'T is true — I love thee — Canst thou not see how much I love thee? Mar. The gods be praised! A moment since I could have slain thee ; now, Altho' I know thy jealous heart Has peril'd my life and stained a woman's honor, Yet, is love so strange a thing, I can forgive thee even this. For, in truth, I've always loved thee, tho' I did not dream That thou couldst ever stoop to care for me. Theo. {Rising and throwing herself into his arms) Thou wilt forgive me? Mar. {Kissing her.) Already art thou forgiven. I am condemned, and thou the cause, But, tho' I die, my latest thought Shall be for Theodosia! {Enter Draco with guards. ) Dra. There is the traitor — seize him! [Soldiers advance toward Marcius with extended spears. Theodosia bars the way.) §cnolm : n §Lraqcda. Theo. Stand back! You shall not have him! 'T was I condemned him — let me die instead! END OF SECOND ACT. 59 gmobm : a gragcttg. & ACT III. Scene i — Before the Temple of Justice, Athens. Soldiers Guarding Entrance. Mob Grouped About. Two Days Later. First Soldier. They say it fares ill with young Captain Marcius. Second Soldier. And ill be it, say I ; A traitor's a traitor whoe'er he be. Phil. (Approaching from /eft.) 'Tis not every traitor receives his due ; Thou art a traitor to thy captain, Marcius! Second Soldier. Rash slave, begone! Jest not with free men. Phil. The wiser man am I. I know I am a slave ; Thou thinkest thou art a free man. First Soldier. Now, by m' life, he had thee there! 60 But 'tis no time for jesting — Here comes one from within. {Messenger approaches from temple.*) What's new? Messenger. Question me not — I'm in much haste! First Sol. What say the judges? Mes. Well, have it then: they have agreed — Marcius must die. {Exits right.) The Mob. The traitor dies! — death to all traitors! Long live Athens and the Athenians! First Sol. Disperse! — the judges come. {Soldiers force back the nub. Judges come from Temple of Justice, followed by Marcius, bound, and surrounded by soldiers. Draco comes last, with his head bowed ) Mar. One moment, good friends — Let me speak to Draco. The Mob. Away with him! — away with the traitor! 61 Dra. Nay, let him speak. — What wouldst thou of me? Mar. Draco, thou hast done me wrong ; I am no traitor, either to my country or to thee! No terror has the thought of death, And welcome would it be did I but know Thy head and not thy heart condemned me. Dra. Thy silence hath condemned thee. Mar. Then farewell — thou hast murdered thy friend! {Soldiers resume march, and all exit right except Draco and Phila?tder. ) Dra. Now, to Zenobia's chamber, To force confession from her guilty lips. {Exits left.) Phil. Now, let who will face Draco's rage — The Tragic Muse still has the stage! {Follows Draco off, left. 62 Scene 2-Z2nobia's Morning Room. {Zenobia, Lydia aitd other maids discovered. Lydia dressing ZenobicCs hair. African slaves waving fans ) Zen. {Reading letter, aside.') Sweet news! Lysander's safe! And tho' another day must pass Ere we may find a ship to take us hence, The hours will glide away in happy expectation. {To Lydia.) Where is our good niece, Theodosia, to-day? Lyd. A while since I saw her in the garden, Looking sore distressed. Zen. Poor niece — a sleepless night, perhaps — Short dreams make heavy eyes. So bright a morn as this Should bring content to all the world. Oh, content enough am I! Lyd. And merry, too, my lady. Zen. Ay, and merry! So merry, I'd have thee sing some roundelay ; But gay indeed must it be 63 §cnabm : & §[r- In the beautiful valley beneath him, As the vapors rolled away, He saw the City of Friendship — His vision of yesterday ; And the heart of the weary dreamer Was filled with a joy divine : " The world may do as it wills," he said, " Since love and content are mine." So here's to the voice of friendship, And here's to the helping hand, And here's to the sun of Bohemia That kisses the dreamer's land! CISSY CLARE. "If ever I marry a horrid man I hope to die as soon as I can !" Thus said Cissy Clare. And the sun came down with brightest ray And kissed her cheeks that summer day, And golden made her hair. Over the hills came Billee Gray, From a country village far away, To woo sweet Cissy Clare. He looked upon her roguish face, And fell a prey to her airy grace, And loved he Cissy Clare. 9 2 He fetched her posies every day- He drove her other beaux away — But to speak he didn't dare ; But eyes said things that lips could not, And go away he fain would not — Away from Cissy Clare. At last, when flowers bloomed again Beneath the Queen of Summer's reign, And the days were sweet and fair, He took her hand with a soft caress, And said in tones of tenderness, "I love thee, Cissy Clare!" "Wilt go with me, my bonnie maid, And see the parson now," he said — "'Tis not so far away." Then paled her face like highland snow, And spake she bitterly and low, "I cannot marry, Billee Gray." "I've made a dreadful vow," said she, "And nevermore shall I be free," Said pretty Cissy Clare. " 'If ever I marry a man,' said I, 'As soon as I can I hope I may die!' " And weep did Cissy Clare. "You need not marry me," said he, "But I, forsooth, will marry thee, My charming Cissy Clare." 93 %V;wsidc flowers. Then smiling grew her face, and bright, And, somehow, in the summer light His arm went 'round the golden hair. MIDNIGHT, Midnight! the bell tolls out the solemn hour ; Across the moorland and the vale, Across the mountain and the dale, It rings with sweet, majestic power. One! two! with intonation loud and deep Its chiming music seems to say, < 'Sleep safely on until the da) 7 , For I will o'er thee vigil keep!" Three! four! upon the startled silence ring : A weary soul takes eagle flight To soar above in realms of light, And heavenly voices sing. Five! Six! oh, what a thrill It seems to waft far o'er the deep, As tho' 'twould waken from their sleep The silent forms so cold and still. Seven! eight! a robber shudders at his toil ; For to his startled soul the bell Is ringing out his own death knell, His wicked deeds to foil. 94 Nine! ten! upon the air the echoes swell, Then, rich with music, die away ; The watchman's weary footsteps stay, And loud he thunders, "All is well!" Eleven! twelve! at last 'tis o'er ; The night wind rushes by and sighs, The fleeting echo swells and dies — Then all is silent as before. THE EDITOR. With shuffling feet on the creaking floor, And a thoughtful look in his cold,: gray eyes, To the dingy realm of the compositor The stooping form of the editor hies. A suggestion here, a misprint there, Or a dash that is out of place — A letter or line that looks can spare, And a "cap" with a battered face. Perhaps a line from a tardy friend Must be squeezed in the form some way; Or the "leader" the editor would extend With thoughts that have come to-day. Oh, mystic realm of type and pen ; Oh, home of the thoughts that stay ; Oh, potent molder of plastic men ; Oh, king of the modern day — 9S Thy mission lies in the path of fate ; Thy calling is one from God — And the press shall praise with its endless life The editor under the sod. THE "COM P." MAN AND THE POET, Frank Stanton sez to me, sez he, " 'Pears like I never did git t' see Th' las' show was here, 'cause he, (Th' comp. man,) wa' no ways free Wi' tickets, like show folks ustah be." Sez I, " I reckon Tkin fix it so Yo'-all kin git t' see th' show — With a' extry seat on the lowes' row, Ez clos' t' th' rings ez yo'r 'lowed t' go, 'Les' yo'r travelin' wi' th' show." An' Frank, he sez, with a smile, sez he, "I reckon that J u'd jest suit me, For there's nothin' in Georgy I'd ruther see Than a circus show — when seats ur free : When yo' all reckon th' show '11 be? , 96 Wm ;iHf*T« * .. H ifilifi 015 905 030