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-03_Rodogune – Act – IV.htm

 

Act IV

 

The Palace in Antioch. Before the hills.

 

Scene 1

 

Cleopatra’s chamber.

Cleopatra, Zoyla.

 

CLEOPATRA

Will he not come this morning? How my head aches!

Zoyla, smooth the pain out of it, my girl,

With your deft fingers. Oh, he lingers, lingers!

Cleone keeps him still, the rosy harlot

Who rules him now. She is grown a queen and reigns

Insulting me in my own palace. Yes,

He’s happy in her arms; why should he care for me

Who am only his mother?

¨

ZOYLA

Is the pain less at all?

 

CLEOPATRA

O, it goes deeper, deeper. Ever new revels,

While still the clang of fratricidal war

Treads nearer to his palace. Zoyla,

You saw him with Cleone in the groves

That night of revel?

 

ZOYLA

So I told you, madam.

It is long since Daphne’s groves have gleamed so bright

 

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Or trembled to such music.

 

CLEOPATRA

They were together?

 

ZOYLA

Oh, constantly. One does not see such lovers.

 

CLEOPATRA (shaking her off )

Go!

¨

ZOYLA

Madam?

 

CLEOPATRA

Thy touch is not like Rodogune’s

Nor did her gentle voice offend me. Eunice,

Zoyla retires.

Why hast thou left me, cruel cold Eunice?

She walks to the window and returns swiftly.

God’s spaces frighten me. I am so lonely

In this great crowded palace.

Timocles enters the room reading a despatch.

TIMOCLES

He rushes onward like a god of war.

Mountains and streams and deserts waterless

Are grown our foes, his helpers. The gods give ground

Before his horse-hooves.

Millions of men arrayed in complete steel

Cannot restrain him. Almost we hear in Antioch

His trumpets now. Only Nicanor and the hills

Hardly protect my crown, my brittle crown!

 

CLEOPATRA

Antiochus comes!

 

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TIMOCLES

The Macedonian legions

Linger somewhere upon the wide Aegean. Sea

And land contend against my monarchy.

Your brother sends no certain word.

 

CLEOPATRA

It will come.

Could not the Armenian helpers stay his course?

They came like locusts.

 

TIMOCLES

But are swept away

As with a wind. O mother, fatal mother,

Why did you keep me from the battle then?

My presence might have spurred men’s courage on

And turned this swallowing fate. It is alone

Your fault if I lose crown and life.

 

CLEOPATRA

My son!

 

TIMOCLES

There, mother, I have made you weep. I love you,

Dear mother, though I make you often weep.

 

CLEOPATRA

I have not blamed you, my sweet Timocles.

I did the wrong. Go to the field, dear son,

And show yourself to Syria. Timocles,

I mean no hurt, but now, only just now,

Would not a worthier presence at your side

Assist you? My royal brother of Macedon

Would give his child to you at my desire,

Or you might have your fair Egyptian cousin

Berenice. Syria would honour you, my son.

 

Page – 273


TIMOCLES

I know your meaning. You are so jealous, mother.

Why do you hate Cleone, grudging me

The solace of her love? I shall lose Syria

And I have lost already Rodogune:

Cleone clings to me. Nor is her heart

Like yours, selfish and jealous.

 

CLEOPATRA

Timocles!

 

TIMOCLES (walking to the window)

O Rodogune, where hast thou taken those eyes,

My moonlit midnight, where that wondrous hair

In which I thought to live as in a cloud

Of secret sweetness? Under the Syrian stars

Somewhere thou liest in my brother’s arms,

Thy pale sweet happy face upon his breast

Smiling up to be kissed. O, it is hell,

The thought is hell! At midnight in the silence

I wake in warm Cleone’s rosy clasp

To think of thee embraced; then in my blood

A fratricidal horror works. Let it not be,

You gods! Let me die first, let him be king.

O mother, do not let us quarrel any more:

Forgive me and forget.

 

CLEOPATRA

You go from me?

 

TIMOCLES

My heart is heavy. I will drink awhile

And hear sweet harmonies.

 

CLEOPATRA

There in the hall

And with Cleone?

 

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TIMOCLES

Let it not anger you.

Yes, with Cleone.

He goes.

CLEOPATRA

I am alone, so terribly alone!

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Scene 2

A hall in the Palace.

Phayllus, Theras.

 

THERAS

His fortune holds.

 

PHAYLLUS

He has won great victories

And stridden exultant like a god of death

Over Grecian, Syrian and Armenian slain;

But being mortal at each step has lost

A little blood. His veins are empty now.

Where will he get new armies? His small force

May beat Nicanor’s large one, even reach Antioch,

To find the Macedonian there. They have landed.

He is ours, Theras, this great god of tempest,

Our captive whom he threatens, doomed to death

While he yet conquers.

Timocles enters with Cleone, then the

musicians and dancing-girls.

TIMOCLES

Bring in the wine and flowers; sit down, sit down.

Call in the dancers. Through the Coan robes

Let their bright flashing limbs assault my eyes

Capturing the hours, imprisoning my heart

In a white whirl of movement. Sit, Cleone.

Here on my breast, against my shoulder! You rose

Petalled and armed, you burden of white limbs

Made to be kissed and handled, you Cleone!

Yes, let the world be flowers and flowers our crown

 

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With rosy linkings red as our own hearts

Of passion. O wasp soft-settling, poignant, sting,

Sting me with bliss until I die of it.

 

PHAYLLUS

I do not like this violence. Theras, go.

Theras leaves the hall.

TIMOCLES

Drink, brother Phayllus. Your webs will glitter more brightly,

You male Arachne.

More wine! I’ll float my heart out in the wine

And pour all on the ground to naked Eros

As a libation. I will hide my heart

In roses, I will smother thought with jonquils.

Sing, someone to me! sing of flowers, sing mere

Delight to me far from this troubled world.

Song

Will you bring cold gems to crown me,

Child of light?

Rather quick from breathing closes

Bring me sunlight, myrtles, roses,

Robe me in delight.

Give me rapture for my dress,

For its girdle happiness.

 

TIMOCLES

Closer, Cleone; pack honey into a kiss.

Another song! you dark-browed Syrian there!

Song

Wilt thou snare Love with rosy brightness

To make him stay with thee?

The petulant child of a fair, cruel mother,

He flees from me to crown another.

O misery!

Love cannot be snared, love cannot be shared;

Light love ends wretchedly.

 

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TIMOCLES

Remove these wine-cups! tear these roses down!

Who snared me with these bonds? Take hence, thou harlot,

Thy rose-faced beauty! Thou art not Rodogune.

 

CLEONE

What is this madness?

 

TIMOCLES

Hence! leave me! I am sick

Of thy gold and roses.

 

PHAYLLUS

Go, women, from the room;

The King is ill. Go, girl, leave him to me.

All go, Cleone reluctantly, leaving

Phayllus with Timocles.

TIMOCLES

I will not bear it any more. Give me my love

Or let me die.

 

PHAYLLUS

In a few nights from this

Thou shalt embrace her.

 

TIMOCLES

Silence! It was not I.

What have I said? It was the wine that spoke.

Look not upon me with those eyes of thine.

 

PHAYLLUS

The wine or some more deep insurgent spirit

Burns in thy blood. Thou shalt clasp Rodogune.

 

TIMOCLES

Thy words, thy looks appal me. She’s my brother’s wife

Sacred to me.

 

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PHAYLLUS

His wife? Who wedded them?

For not in camps and deserts Syria’s kings

Accomplish wedlock. She’s his concubine.

Slave-girl she is and bed-mate of thy brother

And may be thine. Or if she were his soul-close wife,

Death rends all ties.

 

TIMOCLES

I will not shed his blood.

Silence, thou tempter! he is sacred to me.

 

PHAYLLUS

Thou needst not stain thy hands, King Timocles.

Be he live flesh or carrion, she is thine.

 

TIMOCLES

Yet has she lain between my brother’s arms.

 

PHAYLLUS

What if she were thy sister, should that bar thee

From satisfaction of thy heart and body?

 

TIMOCLES

Do you not tremble when you say such things?

 

PHAYLLUS

We have outgrown these thoughts of children, king:

Nor gods nor ghosts can frighten us. You shake

At phantoms of opinion or you feign

To start at such, forgetting what you are.

The royal house of Egypt heeds them not,

Where you were nursed. Your mother sprang from incest.

If in this life you lose your Rodogune,

Are others left where you may have her bliss?

Your brother thought not so, but took her here.

 

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TIMOCLES

I’ll not be tempted by thee.

 

PHAYLLUS

No, by thyself

Be tempted and the thought of Rodogune.

Or shall we leave her to her present joys?

Perhaps she sleeps yet by Antiochus

Or held by him to sweeter vigilance —

 

TIMOCLES (furiously)

Accursed ruffian, give her to my arms.

Use fair means or use foul, use steel, use poison,

But free me from these inner torments.

 

PHAYLLUS

From more

Than passion’s injuries. Trust thy fate to me

Who am its guardian.

He goes out.

TIMOCLES

I am afraid, afraid!

What furies out of hell have I aroused

Within, without me? Let them do their will.

For I must have her once between my arms,

Though Heaven leap down in lightnings.

 

Page – 280


Scene 3

 

Before the Syrian hills. Antiochus’ tent.

Antiochus, Thoas, Leosthenes, Philoctetes.

 

PHILOCTETES

This is Phayllus’ work, the Syrian mongrel.

Who could have thought he’ld raise against us Greece

And half this Asia?

ANTIOCHUS

He has a brain.

 

THOAS

We feel it.

This fight’s our latest and one desperate chance

Still smiles upon our fate.

ANTIOCHUS

Nicanor yields it us

Scattering his armies; for if we can seize

Before he gathers in his distant strengths

This middle pass, Antioch comes with it. So

I find it best and think the gods do well

Who put before us one decisive choice

Not lingering out their vote in balanced urns,

Not tediously delaying strenuous fate, —

Either to conquer with one lion leap

Or end in glorious battle.

 

THOAS

We ask no better;

With you to triumph or die beside you taking

 

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The din of joyous battle in our ears,

Following your steps into whatever world.

 

PHILOCTETES

Have we not strength enough to enforce retreat

Like our forefathers through the Asian vasts

To Susa or the desert or the sea

Or Ptolemy in Egypt, —  thence returning

With force of foreign levies, if Phayllus

Draw even the distant Roman over here,

Dispute with him the world?

 

ANTIOCHUS

No, Philoctetes.

With native swords I sought my native crown,

Which if I win not upon Syria’s hills

A hero’s death is mine. Make battle ready.

Our bodies are the dice we throw again

On the gods’ table.

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Scene 4

The same.

Antiochus, Eunice, Rodogune.

 

ANTIOCHUS

I put my hand on Antioch. Thou hast done well,

O admirable quick Theramenes.

This fight was lionlike.

 

EUNICE

And like the lion

Thou art, my warrior, thou canst now descend

Upon Seleucus’ city. How new ’twill seem

After the mountains and the starlit skies

To sleep once more in Antioch!

 

RODOGUNE

I trust the stars

And mountains better. They were kind to me.

My blood within me chills when I look forward

And think of Antioch.

 

ANTIOCHUS

These are the shadows from a clouded past

Which shall not be repeated, Rodogune.

This is not Antioch that thou knewst, the prison

Of thy captivity, thou enterest now,

Not Antioch of thy foes, but a new city

And thy own kingdom.

RODOGUNE

Are the gods so good?

 

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ANTIOCHUS

The gods are strong; they love to test our strength

Like armourers hammering steel. Therefore ’twas said

That they are jealous. No, but high and stern

Demanding greatness from the great; they strike

At every fault they see, perfect themselves

Labour at our perfection. What rumour increases

Approaching from the mountains? Thoas, thou?

Thoas enters.

Thy brow is dark. Is it Theramenes?

Returns our fortune broken?

 

THOAS

Broken and fallen.

We who are left bring back Theramenes

Upon whose body twenty glorious wounds

Smile at defeat.

 

ANTIOCHUS

Theramenes before me!

How have you kept me lying in my tent!

I thought our road was clear of foemen.

 

THOAS

The gods

Had other resources that we knew not of.

Within the passes, on the summit couch

The spears of Macedon. They have arrived

From the sea, from Antioch.

 

ANTIOCHUS

The Macedonians! Then

Our day is ended; we must think of night.

We reach our limit, Thoas.

 

THOAS

That’s if we choose;

 

Page – 284


For there are other tidings.

 

ANTIOCHUS

They should be welcome.

 

THOAS

Phraates, thy imperial father, comes

With myriad hosts behind him thunder-hooved,

Not for invasion armed as Syria’s foe,

But for the husband of his Rodogune.

Shall we recoil upon these helpers? Death

Can always wait.

 

ANTIOCHUS

Perhaps. Leave me awhile,

Thoas; for we must sit alone tonight,

My soul and I together. Rodogune,

Thoas goes.

Wouldst thou go back to Parthia, to thy country?

 

RODOGUNE

I have no country, I have only thee.

I shall be where thou art; it is all I know

And all I wish for.

 

ANTIOCHUS

Eunice, wilt thou go

To Antioch safe? My mother loves thee well.

 

EUNICE

I follow her and thee. What talk is this?

I shall grow angry.

 

ANTIOCHUS

Am I other, Eunice,

Than once I was? Is there a change in me

Since first I came into your lives from Egypt?

 

Page – 285


EUNICE

You are my god, my warrior and the same

You ever were.

ANTIOCHUS

To her and thee I am.

Sleep well, my Rodogune, for thou and I,

Not sure of Fate, are of each other sure.

To thee what else can matter?

 

RODOGUNE

Nothing else.

Rodogune and Eunice enter the

interior of the tent.

ANTIOCHUS

A god! Yes, I have godlike stirrings in me.

Shall they be bounded by this petty world

The sea can span? If Rome, Greece, Africa,

Asia and all the undiscovered globe

Were given me for my garden, all glory mine,

All men my friends, all women’s hearts my own,

Would there not still be bounds, still continents

Unvanquished? O thou glorious Macedonian,

Thou too must seek at last more worlds to conquer.

Hast thou discovered them?

This earth is but a hillock when all’s said,

The sea an azure puddle. All tonight

Seems strange to me; my wars, ambition, fate

And what I am and what I might have been,

Float round me vaguely and withdraw from me

Like grandiose phantoms in a mist. Who am I?

Whence come I? Whither go, or wherefore now?

Who gave me these gigantic appetites

That make a banquet of the world? who set

These narrow, scornful and exiguous bounds

To my achievement? O, to die, to pass,

 

Page – 286


Nothing achieved but this, “He tried great things,

Accomplished small ones.” If this life alone

Be given us to fail or to succeed,

Then ’tis worth keeping.

The Parthian treads our land!

Phraates’ hooves dig Grecian soil once more!

The subtle Parthian! He has smiled and waited

Till we were weak with mutual wounds and now

Stretches his foot towards Syria. Have I then

Achieved this only, my country’s servitude?

Shall that be said of me? It galls, it stabs.

My fame! “Destroyer of Syria, he undid

The great Seleucus’ work.” Whatever else

O’ertake me, in this the strong gods shall not win.

I will give up my body and sword to Timocles,

Repel the Parthian, save from this new death,

These dangerous allies from Macedon

Syria, then die.

But wherefore die? Should I not rather go

With my sole sword into the changeful world,

Create an empire, not inherit one?

Are there not other realms? has not the East

Great spaces? In huge torrid Africa

Beyond the mystic sources of the Nile

There must be empires. Or if with a ship

One sailed for ever through the infinite West,

Through Ocean and still Ocean for three years,

Might not one find the old Atlantic realms

No fable? Thy narrow lovely littoral,

O blue Mediterranean, India, Parthia,

Is this the world? I thirst for mightier things

Than earth has.

But for what I dreamed, to bound

Upon Nicanor through the deep-bellied passes

Or fall upon the Macedonian spears,

It were glorious, yet a glorious cowardice,

Too like self-slaughter. Is it not more heroic

 

Page – 287


To battle with than to accept calamity?

Unless indeed all thinking-out is vain

And Fate our only mover. Seek it out, my soul,

And make no error here; for on this hour

The future of the man Antiochus,

What future he may have upon the earth

In name or body lies. Reveal it to me, Zeus!

In Antioch or upon the Grecian spears,

Where lies my fate?

While he is speaking, the Eremite enters.

EREMITE

Before thee always.

 

ANTIOCHUS

How

Cam’st thou or whence? I know thy ominous look.

 

EREMITE

The how inquire not nor the whence, but learn

The end is near which I then promised thee.

 

ANTIOCHUS

So then, defeat and death were from the first

My portion! Wherefore were these thoughts gigantical

With which I came into my mother ready-shaped

If they must end in the inglorious tomb?

 

EREMITE

Despise not proud defeat, scorn not high death.

The gods accept them sternly.

 

ANTIOCHUS

Yes, as I shall,

But not submissively.

 

Page – 288


EREMITE

Break then, thou hill

Unsatisfied with thy own height. The gods

Care not if thou resist or if thou yield;

They do their work with mortals. To the Vast

Whence thou, O ravening, strong and hungry lion,

Overleaping cam’st the iron bars of Time,

Return! thou hast thy tamers. God of battles!

Son of Nicanor! strong Antiochus!

Depart and be as if thou wert not born.

The gods await thee in Antioch.

He departs.

ANTIOCHUS

I will meet them there.

Break me. I see you can, O gods. But you break

A body, not this soul; for that belongs, I feel,

To other masters. It is settled then.

Tomorrow sets in Antioch.

 

Page – 289


Scene 5

The same.

Philoctetes, Thoas, Leosthenes, Eunice.

LEOSTHENES

Surely this is the change that comes on men

Who are to die.

PHILOCTETES

O me! it is, it is.

 

THOAS

Princess Eunice, what think you of it?

 

EUNICE

Thoas, what matters what we think? We follow

Our king; it is his to choose our paths for us.

Lead they to death? Then we can die with him.

 

THOAS

That’s nobly spoken.

 

PHILOCTETES

But too like a woman.

Antiochus enters with Rodogune.

ANTIOCHUS

To Antioch! Is all ready for our march?

PHILOCTETES

Antiochus, my king, I think in Egypt

We loved each other.

Page – 290


ANTIOCHUS

Less here, my Philoctetes?

PHILOCTETES

Then by that love, dear friend, go not to Antioch.

Let us await the Parthian in his march.

What do you seek at Antioch? A mother angry?

A jealous brother at whose ear a fatal knave

Sits always whispering? lords inimical?

What can you hope from these? Go not to Antioch.

I see Death smiling, waving you to go,

But do not.

 

ANTIOCHUS

Dearest comrade, Philoctetes,

Fate calls to me and shall I shrink from her?

I know my little brother Timocles,

I feel his clasp already, see his smile.

But there’s Phayllus! Shall I fall so low

As to fear him? Forgive me, friend; I go to Antioch.

PHILOCTETES

It was decreed!

ANTIOCHUS

But you, my friends, who have no love

To shield you and perhaps great enemies,

Will you fall back until I make your peace,

To Egypt or Phraates?

 

THOAS

Not a man

Will leave your side who followed your victorious sword.

We follow always.

 

ANTIOCHUS

Beat then the drums and march.

 

Page – 291


But let an envoy ride in front to Timocles

And tell him that Antiochus comes to lay

His victor sword between a brother’s knees

And fight for him with Parthia. Let us march.

All go except Philoctetes.

PHILOCTETES (looking after him)

O sun, thou goest rushing to the night

Which shall engulf thee!

Page – 292