GIFT OF 
 
 En hi i tin fjluntni\6 
 
 9s4 
 
 FH-5S 
 A- 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 witii funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.archive.org/details/accusertristandeOOfielricli 
 
THE ACCUSER 
 
 It 's past the size of dreaming 
 
, J , o » » » » 
 
 THE ACCUSER 
 
 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 
 
 A MESSIAH 
 
THE ACCUSER 
 
 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 
 A MESSIAH 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 ^BORGIA* 
 
 7/U^i^^^l "TU^^, j^'-^ 
 
 LONDON 
 SIDGWICK AND JACKSON, LTD. 
 
 3 ADAM STREET, W.C. 
 191 1 
 
Sn^liik ifiwwnuS 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The author of these books of drama is dead. He had 
 been slowly dying for some years : then, of a sudden, 
 he started on a journey of desire to Rome, that he 
 might reach it before he died. Soon after his arrival 
 death came ; and he is buried in an uninscribed grave 
 under Roman cypresses. He had always said he 
 should go to Rome to die ; and he carried out his 
 dream with his will. Before starting he had revised 
 and printed most of the work he felt he had but short 
 time to care for. It is probable he intended to issue 
 the two volumes at different times : the weight of 
 circumstance has compelled the friend, who is now 
 acting for him, to publish at once all the work that 
 lay in sheets or was still in the Press. 
 
 Among the papers left at home a sketch was found 
 of a play entitled The Temple, designed to complete 
 the Herodian series, that began with Mariamne, 
 published in 1908, and was continued in The Accuser, 
 among the plays now published. The unfinished 
 play dealt with the effort of Herod Agrippa to 
 preserve the Jewish Temple from the pollution of a 
 
 b ^i 
 
 3 v> ^ vi 
 
viii PREFACE 
 
 statue of Caligula, set up to be worshipped as divine. 
 It promised a vivid presentation of the mad Em- 
 peror. The sketch found was incomplete, but it is 
 believed that a complete, but unrevised, copy is in 
 existence. The author was so secret in all his ways, 
 almost stealthy, that hidden manuscripts may be 
 found, like a squirrel's hoard; they may even be 
 lying forgotten in some publisher's drawer. 
 
 The subject of Tristan always had for the author 
 of Borgia a haunting incitement. He felt he could 
 treat the story from many points of view. Two 
 essays of varied interpretation are to be found in 
 these volumes, and were set in separate volumes by 
 the dramatist himself. 
 
 So intense was his desire to be nameless that 
 those to whom his memory is a force on their love 
 cannot bring themselves to divulge a personality so 
 guarded from discovery. 
 
 The friend who writes this note is as unskilled in 
 words as Horatio ; but, unlike Horatio, has had no 
 charge to tell the story of Hamlet, no injunction to 
 speak out anything of truth before that breadth of 
 finality : 
 
 ' The rest is silence.' 
 
THE ACCUSER 
 
 ERRATA 
 
 The Accuser 
 
 Page 1 6, line 4,/^r ' my love,' read ''your love.' 
 
 Page 47, line 17 ^ for 'Aristobulus,' r^// * Alexander.' 
 
 Page 61, line 18, /^r 'if no patience,' read ^ 0/ no 
 patience.' 
 
PERSONS 
 
 Herod the Great, King of Judea. 
 Antipater, his eldest son. 
 
 ' !-His younger sons, the children of Mariamne. 
 Aristobulus, J 
 
 Augustus Caesar, Emperor of Rome. 
 
 Tero, a Councillor. 
 
 CORINTHUS, his son. 
 
 Shemiah, ^ 
 
 Babbas, V Other Councillors. 
 
 NiCHOLAUsJ 
 
 A Centurion. 
 
 A Condemned Criminal. 
 
 A Jailer. 
 
 Doris, an Arabian, Herod's first wife. 
 
THE ACCUSER 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene 
 
 Jerusalem : a room in the King's house, giving on a 
 marble terrace, which is seen through columns of 
 marble. Pomegranate-trees, in blood-red floijser, 
 stand formal along the terrace ; scarlet curtains 
 are looped back with purple cords against each 
 column, 
 
 Herod leans over the terrace eagerly, paces it several 
 times, and then looks out still more eagerly. 
 After a while, he turns from the parapet and faces 
 the room, his hands wrapped in his purple robe. 
 
 Herod. Accused — 
 
 How freshly in my heart, as spring accuses 
 Some winter mom with all her windy light ! 
 Accused . . . that I have left 
 My first-bom son behind me with my youth, 
 Antipater, my Arab ! Almost Roman 
 My sons by Mariamne, and they mock me 
 A little for the wildness in my heart, 
 A 
 

 2 THE ACCUSER [act i. 
 
 This wildness growing wilder now in age, 
 When all the deserts spread their boundaries. 
 My Arab son — 
 
 And reared as I was reared, and of my race, 
 And shy ... oh, that will be a bond ... my 
 Arab! 
 
 [Perceiving his sister, who enters and 
 prostrates herself before him. 
 Salome ! 
 
 Salome. Herod, and a suppliant too, 
 And of the moment's opportunity, 
 .\nd pleading by the pressure of the moment. 
 Are you not watching for your Arab son, 
 Antipater, and, wistful as a lover, 
 Roving from column on to column ? 
 
 Give me 
 My Arab lover, Herod, though he may not 
 Become a Jew, lest he be stoned to death 
 By his own people . . . 
 
 Say that I am old 
 And in the shadow — but he seeks my shade. 
 As it were comfort from the noontide sun ! 
 Give him to me, and for my sole delight. 
 As his delight is in me. 
 
 Herod. No, Salome. 
 
 Two generations of our father's blood 
 Part us alone from Arab heathendom : 
 We must be Jewish in our nuptials, and 
 Our offspring Roman in the breath they draw. 
 
 Salome {jrom the ground). For whom, my brother, 
 
ACT L] THE ACCUSER 3 
 
 For whom are your eyes listening, as the Hghts 
 In a roused lion's face ? — Antipater, 
 The child of Doris, the Arabian Doris, 
 Daughter of Esau with red-threaded hair, 
 Doris, whom you abandoned. . . . 
 Herod. Ay, abandoned . . . 
 
 And drew a roseleaf of God's rose, as amber 
 Draws such a roseleaf, to my heart — as amber, 
 Drew the red roseleaf Mariamne, Peace ! 
 
 [Alexander and Aristobulus enter 
 along the terrace. 
 Her children ! Ah, their names, the royal names, 
 Aristobulus, Alexander. . . . 
 
 [Salome rises sullenly. Herod involun- 
 tarily makes a movement toward the 
 young men. Salome draws hack to 
 the parapet of the terrace, where Herod 
 had before been keeping watch. 
 Alexander [advancing). Father, 
 
 You called us ? 
 Herod. No. 
 
 Alexander. Our names — I heard our names ! 
 Herod. I did not call. 
 
 Alexander. And yet I heard my name, I heard my 
 brother's, 
 I heard . . . 
 Herod. Eavesdropping ! 
 
 Alexander. No ! — Not that . . . her name. 
 
 You spoke it, father, as you loved its measure. 
 
 [There is silence. 
 
4 THE ACCUSER [act I. 
 
 Aristobulus. And you did call us, father. 
 Herod. No — 
 
 Come here, you have not kissed me. 
 
 [He takes Aristobulus' face in his 
 hands. 
 
 Like your uncle, 
 The priest, your uncle . . . 
 
 [He stops speaking and dreams. 
 
 Kiss me, Alexander ; 
 
 But kiss me. . . . And you heard your mother's 
 
 name ? 
 Fie, you were listening ! Go ! 
 
 [The young men pass down the terrace 
 between the pomegranate - flowers and 
 the red curtains. 
 . . . Her obstinate, still death — shut in her doom, 
 As water locked up in chalcedony ! 
 
 [Turning toward Salome. 
 Is he not like his mother ? 
 
 Ha, these pictures 
 Of the dead that loved us so, these living things 
 That do not love us ! And the beauty cold 
 And stubborn on their faces. Mariamne ! 
 — That was the name I called. 
 Salome [advancing quickly and again kneeling). 
 Your watcher, Herod ! 
 Antipater is here ! Now my reward ! 
 Oh, joy ! This is a portent and precursive — 
 Behind, at your recall, there is my lover. . . . 
 Herod. I will not see that laughter in your eyes. 
 
ACT I.] THE ACCUSER 5 
 
 That rich cajoHng for another. Wistful 
 Be you to please me ! Greet Antipater ! . . . 
 Tell me a little ; you have seen him. Speak ! 
 Is his hair silvered ? 
 
 A Eunuch e^tters 
 
 Eunuch. Sire, 
 
 The young prince from the East world come to 
 you. 
 Herod. Bring the yoimg prince. 
 
 [Exit Eunuch. 
 [Herod watches the door. As the cur- 
 tain opens, Salome, after making in 
 vain a gesture of suppliant appeal, 
 moves away from Herod. She meets 
 Antipater, who hows low, hut she turns 
 from him, sweeping her cloak away from 
 him, and goes out. Antipater stands 
 in the midst of the room. 
 Herod. My son — your father ! 
 Antipater. Majesty ! 
 
 [He prostrates himself. 
 Herod. Your father I 
 
 Stand ! Let me know you. 
 
 [Antipater rises and faces the King. 
 . . . Seasoned ! In my dreams 
 I saw you as a lad, Antipater ; 
 Not of my height, my building in the frame. 
 And round the eyes and temples mastership. 
 Thin ! You have hunted daily ? 
 
6 THE ACCUSER [ACT I. 
 
 Antipater (with a smile). Ibexes, 
 
 Wild asses, the gazelle . . . 
 
 Herod. And your gazelle-hounds, 
 
 Had one of them my name ? 
 
 Antipater. No, Majesty, your name 
 
 Was never lightly heard : or by the hearth, 
 Or by the fountain of the sands, or under 
 The shadow of the night-clouds, ever whispered ; 
 I heard it, and I feared it, Majesty. 
 
 Herod. You had protection ? 
 
 Antipater. Obodas, 
 
 King of Arabia, fed us. In his wars 
 I was made warrior — all my camel-droves 
 Caught from their pastimes on spear-rattling 
 nights. 
 
 Herod. Mature of body and of wits provided 
 And sharpened for the pinch. . . . You have 
 loved women ? 
 
 Antipater [again with a smile) . All must have some 
 suspension, Majesty, 
 Some respite in the hollows of the sand. . . . 
 
 Herod. You bring no wife ? 
 
 Antipater. Great Majesty, no wife — 
 
 My filial love 
 
 From the far- vanishing, the unblest plains : 
 Although I drank you as a legend there, 
 Although my mother told me of your youth. 
 Although upon the desert was your name. 
 
 Herod. My name upon the desert ? Oh, the shrill. 
 Shrill solitudes ! 
 
ACT I.] THE ACCUSER 7 
 
 You must not speak so fast, 
 As crowding up the entry of my brain : 
 If a long throng 
 
 Of loaded dromedaries pass the gate, 
 They must file two and two, not all at once. 
 She told you of my youth : there let me linger I 
 
 [Repressing Antipater. 
 No, no ! Her voice 
 Soft as the flow of spices — hush ! — 
 Do not break on me your impetuous voice, 
 A hurricane of that sweet spice . . . 
 
 [He looks at Antipater, as if gauging the 
 years. 
 
 She is dead ? 
 Antipater. Dead ! — waiting duteous at your palace- 
 door, 
 Waiting that in her eyes she may receive 
 Again the mirror of your eyes, and then 
 Home to her grave . . . 
 The years are falling on her heavily. 
 Herod. The way is very long for her ! 
 Antipater. But swifter 
 
 She travelled than my swiftness and more eager. . . 
 Herod. She must go back. What should she do 
 among us — 
 Among the Mariamnes of to-day. 
 Young wives, fresh voices ? My Antipater, 
 Being your mother, I must prize her so 
 As the green sacred jade, no longer quarried. 
 She must be hidden. 
 
8 THE ACCUSER [act i. 
 
 Antipater {bending low). At your pleasure, lord, 
 She will return ... by stages very slow . . . 
 Without my aid. . . . That will not trouble her, 
 My lord, for she approaches to the shrine 
 Of a dear idol : let her snuff your image, 
 Fondle your feet, and creep back to the desert. 
 
 Herod. She told you of my youth. . . . Have you 
 yet found 
 The thing she said, Antipater ? 
 
 Antipater. My lord, 
 
 I am the thing she told me of — your son. 
 She has reared me for you, father ; for your 
 
 pleasure. 
 Each hour I passed beside her was religious. 
 By heart she knew your first campaign — the 
 
 marching 
 On Idumaea, held with three thousand foot. 
 Four thousand horse. . . . The push toward Galilee, 
 Its garrisons. The city Sepporis 
 Seized as by magic in a wondrous snow : 
 The sudden fight with robbers, the defeat. 
 And then your left wing bearing down their right, 
 So that they fled. . . . 
 
 Herod. The left wing of my army — No, my right. 
 No, no ! . . . But fetch her in ! 
 
 [Antipater glides out. 
 How marvellous 
 She should remember — and the critical, 
 Grave point forgotten I . . . 
 
 [Antipater brings in Doris : she falls at 
 
 % 
 
 ^^^.. 
 
ACT I.] THE ACCUSER 9 
 
 Herod's feet. Her veil is thrown hack, 
 and a woman with terrible head-dress 
 is revealed. Herod recoils. A low 
 voice is heard. 
 Doris. Is he not fair, our son ? 
 
 Is he not wrought to your desire ? My lord, 
 Your blessing on him, yea. 
 Your blessing on your first-bom ! 
 
 [Herod sets Antipater at his right hand. 
 He will guard you 
 From all your enemies ; no fear that any 
 In secret any more shall trouble you. 
 Now may I speak a little to my lord 
 Of what this is to me to see his face ? 
 
 [Doris gazes up : there is a long silence. 
 Blessing it is to me to see your face ! 
 Herod (uneasily). You are not dazzled ? . . . And 
 it is not seemly 
 That you should look upon a King so long . . . 
 Doris, for I am King of Jewry now . . . 
 You must not . . . We are aged : time is be- 
 tween us. 
 And I would spare you, Doris. It afflicts me 
 To see your darkened cheeks. 
 
 What do you see ? 
 Doris. I see all that you bid me see — the King. 
 Before a crown 
 
 Was on your head I saw it on your head ! 
 And it is not so high as I have seen it. 
 Nor are the gems so bright. 
 
10 THE ACCUSER [act i. 
 
 Herod. Your eyes are bright, your eyes that were 
 my gems, 
 Your eyes are brightening on me, and your face 
 Is still as a still pool when stubbornly 
 It shapes in its unruffled depths the sun. 
 Doris, I thrust you to Arabia, 
 So, in such youth. . . . What in Arabia 
 Has been your fate ? 
 Doris. Herod, to guard our son. 
 
 Herod. You had no second husband, when, still 
 handsome, 
 My little one, I left you ? 
 Doris. I was Doris, 
 
 I was a flower, and the flower fades, my lord : 
 You must not vex yourself that I am old. 
 Herod. Depart, go home, go from my presence home ! 
 Salute your son. 
 
 [Doris, without a glance at Antipater, 
 clings to Herod. 
 Doris. Your feet ! 
 
 [Then she rises, veiling herself, and moves 
 away, as if set toward the desert. 
 Herod (nodding). Farewell ! . . . 
 
 Antipater, 
 This is a royal creature, of the wisdom 
 There should be found in woman, of the beauty 
 That is eternal in her. Royal, royal ! 
 And she shall be the first among my wives. 
 Antipater, my first-bom, draw her to me ! 
 [Antipater runs after his mother and leads her back. 
 
ACT!.] THE ACCUSER li 
 
 Sit, Doris, sit beside me, and our son 
 Thus on the lower step at my right hand. 
 Now I am made secure, now at the last 
 I shall draw even breath. 
 
 [Suddenly rising from his throne. 
 Ho, eunuchs ! 
 
 Several enter 
 
 Bring me 
 A fanlike robe of state ; bring me the chain 
 Of amethysts, a pearl by every grape ; 
 And golden shoes and female crown of gold. 
 Some others call 
 The Princes to an audience instantly. 
 
 [Antipater has lifted a hem of Herod's 
 rich robe, and has been staring at the 
 jewels. 
 You catch my cloak — what is it ? 
 Antipater {quickly dropping the cloak). Your pro- 
 tection ! 
 
 [The royal dress is brought in and laid 
 on Doris. 
 Herod. Queen over every other queen ! 
 
 [The young men Alexander and Aris- 
 TOBULUS re-enter, but draw back. 
 
 My sons, 
 Come to my feet and make obeisance here 
 To this my wife and Queen restored to me ; 
 Then from my hand receive your brother's hand, 
 My eldest, much-loved son's. Antipater, 
 
12 THE ACCUSER [act i. 
 
 Your younger brothers . . . Alexander this, 
 Aristobulus this. 
 
 Alexander. I know 
 
 Nothing of what you say . . . 
 
 Father, I cannot 
 Touch what is strange, and give away the name 
 I call Aristobulus. . . . And this lady ! — 
 O father, I have counted every grape 
 And every pearl she wears about her neck, 
 When I was in the Queen my mother's arms. 
 She wears that robe . . . the very robe 
 My grandmother has worn. Queen Alexandra, 
 Worn by my mighty ancestress her mother, 
 And by my mother of the royal race. 
 One day for this 
 
 May she be dressed in sackcloth and be shut 
 So close that she may never see the light 
 That comes by the sxm's shining ! . . . 
 
 O my brother, 
 This woman is a crow that trails the glory. 
 Our mother wore, before her children's eyes. 
 
 [Herod, who has listened with growing 
 admiration on his face, steps down to 
 Alexander. 
 
 Herod. Mariamne ! 
 
 (Softly in his ear.) Oh, beware ! 
 
 My Alexander, 
 You are all mine, my creatures from your birth. 
 To raise and to set down even as I will : 
 You breathe upon this earth but of my will. 
 
ACT I.] THE ACCUSER 13 
 
 I love you, Alexander — bow to that 
 As to an empire ; to that eagle-ensign, 
 I stream above you, bow I 
 
 This ag^d Queen, 
 This brother from the desert — circumstance, 
 Nothing for you to stir against ! My love 
 An empire over you. 
 
 [Alexander sobs on his father's shoulder. 
 Child, by your race 
 Of kings, and by the charge of you that Caesar 
 Took side by side even with the world itself, 
 Do homage to your lord's authority. 
 Your father's. Show to this old Queen respect. 
 Antipater, come here ! Receive this hand. 
 -Antipater. I am in such amazement even as 
 you : 
 Forgive me that I breathed before your birth, 
 Who never thought to see your faces, brothers. 
 
 [To Aristobulus. 
 But as bewildered and as in the dark, 
 Let our hands touch, by the King's Majesty, 
 
 [Aristobulus silently gives his hand. 
 Herod, taking Alexander's, lays it 
 in Antipater's. At the touch of Anti- 
 pater's fingers Alexander lifts his 
 head, his eyes flash into Antipater's, 
 and he snatches hack his hand. 
 As in the dark. . . . 
 Herod {to his Eunuchs) . Lead forth 
 
 Queen Doris, of the Women's Palace Queen. 
 
14 THE ACCUSER [act l 
 
 We all salute her. 
 
 [Antipater kisses her hand; Herod 
 leads her down the steps of the throne ; 
 Alexander and Aristobulus slightly 
 incline as she is led out. 
 Sons, 
 We shall all hunt together in three hours. 
 Your brother is a cunning himter — ibex, 
 Wild asses, and gazelles he has hunted daily. 
 (To Antipater.) Have you set chetahs on gazelles, 
 
 my son ? 
 I have often loosed a chetah . . . 
 
 [Alexander and Aristobulus have 
 moved away down the terrace between 
 the pomegranate- flowers and blood-red 
 curtains. Herod turns from Anti- 
 pater. 
 
 Gone ! 
 Antipater laughs low. Herod shrugs 
 his shoulders, and, putting an arm 
 round Antipater, moves away down 
 the room. 
 
ACT II.] THE ACCUSER 15 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene 
 
 A large, pillared hall, toward evening. Enter Herod 
 and Augustus C^sar through an archway at 
 the far end of the hall. They come forward 
 talking, and stand together in the midst of the 
 hall. 
 
 Herod. Loved of Caesar ! 
 And this from Caesar's lips, in Caesar's action — 
 Have you not given me gifts, 
 Trachon, Batania, and Auranitis, 
 With power upon my kingdom that my choice 
 Confirm it to what heir I yearn unto ? 
 Caesar, on my new land. 
 At Panium, of white stone of Zenodorus, 
 Above the cavern magically deep, 
 Prodigiously abrupt, full of still water, 
 A temple shall be reared, guarding its symbol. 
 That fulness of still water, and to you 
 The temple shall be votive. Loved of Caesar ! 
 
 CiESAR. With all the world to choose, his foremost 
 choice ! 
 
i6 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 Herod. But, Caesar, you 
 
 Who are as foster-father to my sons. 
 Who are to me almost a foster-father, 
 Enlarge the borders of my love, receive 
 This stranger son, this likeness of me made 
 So far away in youth. Admit him, Caesar, 
 Among my offspring to an equal place. 
 
 C^SAR. Not with the royal children — no ! 
 
 Herod. Augustus, but the progeny is mine. 
 They are all mine and of the royalty 
 Conferred of Rome inherit. 
 
 C^SAR. You forget 
 
 The Asmonaean blood ; the royal gift 
 To Mariamne's children, you forget. 
 Herod, if I could soften you ! Your heart 
 Is rebel to her sons. 
 
 Herod. But Alexander 
 
 Makes no contention for my love . . . 
 He and his brother are in league together. 
 They do not walk away from me — their absence 
 Is a discovery that tempts pursuit. 
 Prove me this love of which there is no proof, 
 Prove me my children's love ! That they love you 
 Leaps to the eye ; that they adore their mother : 
 That they are careful to displeasure me 
 In every action, that they pass from me 
 As the stars pass at dawning from the heavens. 
 Yet am I never left ! My first-bom son. 
 Whose mother from his birth was sure and faithful. 
 Is ever in my presence, at my side. 
 
ACT II.] THE ACCUSER 17 
 
 Achieve him with your favour ! 
 
 [An arrow is shot through one of the left 
 arches, in front of Herod and C^sar. 
 Antipater runs in, hut drops his how, 
 seeing his father and Cesar. 
 Cmsar. Is the palace 
 
 A ruined theatre, or a ruined temple. 
 
 This most uncourtly hunter pierces through ? 
 
 Antipater, King Herod 
 
 Desires for you a place among your brothers. 
 
 See that the place rank high ! 
 
 [Antipater prostrates himself. There is 
 silence. 
 Herod. Is this the boon, Antipater ? 
 Antipater. My father. 
 
 In these wide halls, and many coming in. 
 
 And many going out. 
 
 The footsteps but bewilder me. There is 
 
 One footprint to my track, and one conception ; 
 
 I am my father's son ; King Herod's son. 
 
 Hold, hold me here ! How should I profit Cgesar, 
 
 How, exile, dwell at Rome who from my desert 
 
 Looked upon mortals as a cavalcade 
 
 Of perilled merchants ? Keep me at your side. 
 
 Close as your shade, supreme in confidence. 
 
 And with no other hope to my ambition 
 
 Than to remain supreme. 
 Herod (stooping to kiss Antipater). He fills the eye. 
 
 Look on him, Caesar, look, how dupHcate 
 
 I live in him ! 
 
 B 
 
i8 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 C^SAR. The young man has your voice, 
 
 As musk, they say, carried a thousand miles, 
 Will permeate that thousand miles, betrayed. 
 As musk, in the rich currents of the sea. 
 Herod, an irresistible appeal ! 
 (Shrugging his shoulders.) Let us to Nicholaus to 
 see the scripts. 
 
 [C^SAR moves up the hall. 
 
 Herod {lingering behind C^sar, to Antipater). 
 Put by the arrows ! Are you still a child ? 
 Quiver the arrows ! Lay them by ! 
 I cannot hatch you into princeliness. 
 As ostriches by looking at their eggs. 
 For shame, Antipater ! 
 
 {Joining C^sar.) The scripts are written 
 
 In choicest Greek — all I have done, and all 
 That I, at price of labour, have erected. 
 With thoughts that turn towards hope. But 
 you shall read. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 A hissing shriek breaks from Antipater 
 
 Antipater. He is ashamed . . . Ho, ho, he hates 
 me ! I am dispersed, I am shaken as the dust 
 from his mantle. He is ashamed of me before 
 this Csesar. And the Greek ... I will creep into 
 the library. I will steal his manuscripts ; I will 
 pilfer . . . That one he hugged ; I will keep the 
 fragments in my bosom. He is ashamed of me. 
 [Mechanically he breaks his bow over his 
 
ACT II.] THE ACCUSER 19 
 
 knee as he snarls imprecations. Doris 
 darts from an obscure corner. 
 
 Doris. Do not chide me, do not be angry ; I have 
 waited in the darkness ; have waited to spring 
 on you as a pard. You are mine. Embrace me ! 
 
 Anti PATER. A queen, you can embrace me any- 
 where — before Caesar. You must not creep in, 
 fugitive. 
 
 Doris. What has befallen you, my son ? Your 
 voice ! Has a wolf looked at you and made it 
 hoarse ? 
 
 [Taking him hy his shoulder boldly and 
 giving him a shake. 
 But you shall not speak like that to me, as 
 though you were not my son. A husband can 
 say to a woman, * You are not my wife,' he can 
 deny her ; but a son can never say to his mother, 
 ' You are not my mother.' Always a man must 
 cherish his mother. His tent is her tent : till 
 death they are together. 
 
 Antipater. We are not in the desert now ; we are 
 in the court of a great King. 
 
 Doris. A great King's court, where there are plots. 
 I have discovered a plot. 
 
 Antipater. Then discover it to my father : you are 
 his Queen. 
 
 Doris. It is not a plot that concerns the King's life. 
 
 Antipater. Whose Hfe ? 
 
 Doris. It is a plot of the Princes Alexander and 
 Aristobulus. Thev are most discontented. 
 
20 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 Antipater. They are naught ! Do not vex me 
 with shadows. They are ghosts, as Queen 
 Mariamne is a ghost. Doris, my Httle mother 
 of the tents, you are a queen ; you are wearing 
 the ornaments of the dead. Of old we talked of 
 nothing but this King ... in the long nights, 
 on the days when the sand did not move. Kiss 
 me, for your lover is my lover. There is no one 
 in the world like this King. 
 
 Doris. Yes, indeed, Antipater, except you. You 
 are more to me than the King. The King does 
 not love me any more ; he hates the movements I 
 make, he watches my shadow . . . These orna- 
 ments are too heavy for me. I am not a Queen. 
 But you shall be a King, my Antipater, and your 
 brethren shall wait on you, as Joseph's brethren 
 did obeisance to him in a dream. 
 
 Antipater. Ha ! 
 
 Doris. I am all ear for you, my Prince, in my 
 anxiety . . . and the faithful Bathylus. . . . 
 
 Antipater. Well ? But I would rather you did 
 not consort with slaves. 
 
 Doris. It is a letter from Prince Alexander's wife. 
 Bathylus has picked it up . . . The Princess 
 Glaphyra wrote it to the King of Cappadocia, 
 her father. So Bathylus has told me . . . 
 {Watching Antipater as he reads.) He says that 
 the Princes are discontented and are making 
 complaint. (Antipater whistles as he puts the 
 letter in his bosom.) Antipater, Bathylus says the 
 
ACT IL] THE ACCUSER 21 
 
 Princes hate you with bitter hatred. Is there 
 
 anything of this hate in the letter ? 
 Antipater. It is a long letter. The Princes are 
 
 children. 
 Doris. Antipater, you must not despise the Princes. 
 
 Herod is fond of them as of young roses ; they 
 
 are to him as the roses of Mariamne's garden. 
 
 Antipater, see ! the King is coming back and 
 
 Alexander is with him. {She touches Antipater 
 
 on the chest.) But you have the letter. It shall 
 
 be as an arrow. Shoot it ! 
 
 [She disappears through a near arch. 
 Herod {to Alexander). Then that shall be the 
 order of the feast 
 
 To-morrow ! Caesar dull ! 
 
 We have hunted overmuch and wearied him. 
 Alexander. Caesar is used to the arena, father. 
 Herod. My little amphitheatre . . . here and there 
 
 Clogged with disuse — furnish it, you know how. 
 
 Being half a Roman. 
 
 Well, Antipater, 
 
 You have wearied Caesar with wild game — your 
 drove 
 
 Round Etham of a hundred ibexes. 
 
 He cavils at my hospitaHty, 
 
 That proudly as a mirror held the pleasure 
 
 Of Cleopatra mirrored . . . She departed . . . 
 
 And shall the mirror now distort the glory 
 
 Of Caesar ? Why, Mark Antony returned me 
 
 Continual wonder at my entertainment. 
 
22 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 Mark Antony, who lived upon great cities. 
 Drawing their luxury to flower ; and Greeks, 
 King Archelaus among them, made me equal 
 With high Olympians in my pomp of feasts. 
 
 [Impatiently stamping before Antipater. 
 You have abashed me . . . Ignorant, untrained. 
 You must consult your brother, what he rules 
 Being as an instant order. 
 
 {To Alexander.) Star of fashion, 
 If I were perfect in imperial modes, 
 As when our Caesar young, and Antony 
 Held banquets for me, I myself should stablish 
 The feasts, the entertainments of the hour. 
 To-day the ritual failed. I am abashed. 
 
 Alexander [to Antipater). Fillets of boar and sea- 
 fish following — 
 Rome ! what could Caesar think ? 
 Your oysters should be shipped alive from Pyrrha : 
 They lay stale on the tongue. 
 
 Herod. Enough ! 
 
 Be steward and dispenser of my welcome 
 To Caesar, my young Roman ! 
 
 {To Antipater.) Well ? 
 
 Antipater. If the dessert were mean, we were 
 awaiting 
 From Syria figs and dates from Jericho. 
 
 Alexander. Caesar will taste no dates from Jericho ; 
 The yards of Egypt fill his chalices. 
 But, father, in my garden 
 I have a vine of grapes like those in cluster 
 
ACT IL] THE ACCUSER 23 
 
 That hang upon the doors of God, gold, fragrant 
 
 As cassia by the beehives. I will cut them 
 
 With my own hands, an offering to Caesar. 
 
 [He runs out. 
 Herod. How glorious ! 
 
 To pleasure me — the speed ! 
 Antipater. a glorious flight — 
 
 A slippery ostrich, truly a swift bird. 
 
 And very capable in flight — and all 
 
 To pleasure Caesar. 
 Herod {still looking after Alexander). My young 
 Romans — not 
 
 As you, Antipater, malign and wary. 
 
 My panther, not as you. They are young Princes 
 
 At any court, and where they are is Rome. 
 
 I feared they would despise me ; I am wrong. 
 
 They are a little shy, a little jealous, 
 
 A little haughty. 
 
 (Putting his finger on Antipater's mouth.) Soft ! 
 
 Do not accuse them ! . . . They will hint a fear 
 
 Caesar will laugh at certain entertainments 
 
 Esteemed a decade back . . . slip in new forms ; 
 
 And set aside, but not 
 
 With jeering comment, what fastidious Time 
 
 Has set aside. It is their pride in me. 
 
 [Herod turns sharply, disconcerted by 
 Antipater's sudden laughter. 
 Antipater {holding out one of his father's long plats) . 
 
 Forgive the action ! Alexander thus 
 
 Held forth a trapping of his brother's hair. 
 
24 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 And laughed, ' Our father's hair is deeper black. 
 
 Is dyed so sumptuously that it shines 
 
 A substance in itself, not variant 
 
 As our young hair.' Is this their pride in you ? 
 Herod. It is their pride. 
 
 They would that I should dye my hair more 
 featly ... 
 
 Doris' white hair disgusts me — leprosy, 
 
 White hair — the plague ! 
 Antipater {laughing again). And they complain a 
 little they must bend 
 
 To walk beside you, so from age you stoop. 
 Herod. You may in this take pattern of your 
 
 brothers. 
 Antipater. I was built of you a column, not a reed . . . 
 
 Forgive it, father — thus you fashioned me. 
 Herod. Antipater, I fear 
 
 I set you up too high in privilege. 
 
 Mark this : I have not drawn you from the desert 
 
 To be a spy upon our royalties. 
 
 I fear I have done ill so to remember 
 
 Earlier, before my greatness, in my youth, 
 
 I had a son . . . 
 
 I drew you from my own obscurity : 
 
 It is immense ! The years I had condemned. 
 
 My years, low-breathing to me with the breath 
 
 Of sighing prisoners underneath the groimd. 
 
 Were yet my years of youth : Doris was there ; 
 
 And there, strange as the future to me, full 
 
 Of promise as the future, was my son. 
 
ACT II.] THE ACCUSER 25 
 
 Doris I guard for her fidelity — 
 Though but a winter-bough beside my throne, 
 Nor shadow, nor delight, Why are you here, 
 Save as a well of water from the desert. 
 That I may drink in secret from its source ? 
 What are you ? By your brothers you are nothing. 
 [Antipater watches his father with twitch- 
 ing eyes ; he keeps his mouth covered, 
 with his cloak, 
 Antipater i^n the folds of his cloak), I will not 
 speak of them . . . 
 
 [He moves away ; hut returns, dropping 
 the cloak from his mouth. 
 
 Father, I dare not 
 Leave you so unprepared, before a purpose 
 That will defeat you, as your heart laid open 
 Before an enemy . . . and yet this letter — 
 A letter from the Princess Glaphyra, 
 Writ to the king her father, Archelaus, 
 As any letter full of cries for home, 
 And messages . . . and one from Alexander . . . 
 To your fond eyes and from a wife, though aimed 
 Against your peace, may not disturb your peace. 
 [Herod would snatch the letter. 
 Not yet . . . not thus ! So unprepared . . . 
 (Struggling.) I will not, for I know your love is 
 
 fixed 
 On these fair Romans ... No ! 
 Herod. What is it they have writ of me ? Such 
 things 
 
26 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 We write of one another in the frenzy 
 
 And record of the soul ! We write such words 
 
 Of accusation when we love. 
 
 I know 
 That they would never plot against my life . . . 
 They would not ? . . . Torture ! 
 The torture that will never be suspended, 
 That has no limit to its term, my torture. 
 The question as I put it to myself — 
 Could they so hate me ? 
 
 Antipater. No ! 
 
 It is not that : but as you make demand. 
 
 And tax for revenue the secret treasure. 
 
 And to its limit-riches, of the realm 
 
 Your heart is lord of — in your sight the wrong 
 
 Your sons have done is such a wrong to nature, 
 
 It is so opposite to all your prayers. 
 
 It answers to your fondness as a stone 
 
 Thrust in the hungry hand, stretched forth for 
 
 food . . . 
 A purpose — oh, but inconceivable ! 
 A purpose in relation to such fondness 
 As you have lavished on my brothers . . . Father, 
 You dote on them, you follow as a dog, 
 Pine in their absence as a dog, make ring 
 The palace with your cries if at a meal 
 They fail or from reluctance shun the chase. 
 You do all this, and . . . 
 
 Herod {turning angrily on him). Well, Antipater, 
 What do they do ? 
 
ACT II.] THE ACCUSER 27 
 
 Antipater {looking straight up as if in prayer). 
 They purpose flight to Pontus ; 
 They ask for refuge from you at the court 
 Of Archelaus . . . Inconceivable ! . . . 
 From you, their father, from the great King 
 
 Herod, 
 Loving them in his heart and with his pride. 
 
 [Drawing nearer anxiously and laying 
 the letter on Herod's knee. 
 Father . . . they ask but refuge . . . 
 They say you have no pity on their youth. 
 Speak to me, father ! 
 Herod (standing erect on the steps of his throne). 
 Bid them all come in ! 
 Caesar . . . bid Caesar come ! . . . 
 And Alexander . . . Have you heard my bidding ? 
 Antipater. Aristobulus ? 
 
 Herod. All, by any names . . . 
 
 They have no names. Drag me the treason in ! 
 
 [Exit Antipater. 
 
 [Herod descends from the throne and 
 
 paces to and fro : then pauses in front 
 
 of it, looking up. 
 
 . . . They have fled from me, my throne ! You 
 
 are set up 
 As a great marble seat among the sands, 
 Idle and floated over by the dust. 
 . . . This flight ! It is more deadly than re- 
 
 beUion. 
 Had they caught me in a gin and led me bound 
 
28 THE ACCUSER [act il. 
 
 To the court of Archelaus — a wild beast, 
 We should have breathed hot on each other's faces, 
 We should have injured one another : now 
 They flee me and they are not injured. God 
 Is injured in this thing that they would do. 
 That would efface me. Or I am a father 
 Bent over them, even as God bent over 
 His creatures in creation, or I breathe 
 With no significance, without avail. 
 
 [Laughter is heard : Alexander and 
 Aristobulus run in, each carrying a 
 hunch of grapes tied to an olive-branch. 
 They pause as if they encountered 
 their fathers mood. He speaks very 
 low. 
 Not parricide, but more unnatural. 
 This fleeing from me . . . Honey of the rock 
 The wild bees know and murmur of, and feed 
 Deliciously about it : from the substance 
 That is their life they do not make escape. 
 Pulled downward to the virtue, nor of instinct 
 Deny it . . . Blank before your sin, 
 I see myself a king set up, and then 
 Of death set down and not a king for ever. 
 This crown — even Mariamne 
 Lifted her noble eyes on it ! Her children 
 Flee for adoption to a bastard kingdom. 
 And would be almsmen to a foreigner. 
 Aristobulus {throwing down his grape-hung wand 
 and clinging to Herod). Father, we love you I 
 
ACT II.] THE ACCUSER 29 
 
 If you loved us back — 
 We fled from your unkindness. 
 Herod {to Alexander). Very haughty 
 
 You, with your tribute, and unmoved. For 
 
 Caesar 
 This offering of your first-fruits. 
 
 [Alexander is silent. 
 Stubbornness ! 
 [Alexander purses his lips up to the 
 grape-cluster above his head and bites off 
 a grape. 
 But thus your mother stood upon her trial, 
 Her eyes above her judges, and, it seems. 
 They said, I gave the whisper she must die. 
 Aristobulus. No, no, we love you ... No ! 
 
 Do not so thwart us from you. It was terror. 
 Herod (to Alexander). And you ? 
 Alexander. Father, there is a condition to my 
 love : 
 You are abused to dream I do not love you, 
 As you were deep abused, doubting my mother. 
 Herod. But you have done this thing — you wrote 
 
 these words. 
 Alexander. Where was my place ? When you had 
 slain my mother 
 You slew her place — ah, then you truly slew her — 
 For you had kept her honoured on her throne 
 Long as that throne was vacant : in white robes 
 I saw her, and the movement of her robes. 
 I cannot see her any more : her absence 
 
30 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 Is violated by an effigy — 
 
 You have the stranger wife, the stranger son. . . . 
 Herod. You love me . . . stay ! 
 And Mariamne loved me ? But these words 
 Are as great victories in lands so far 
 The distance makes a glorj." in itself. 
 You never gave me sign 
 Of any love you bore. If this were truth ! 
 Alexander. Truth. But there is condition in my 
 love . . . 
 Banish Antipater, that I may love you, 
 For I am jealous, father. 
 Herod (suddenly folding his right arm round Alex- 
 ander). Are you jealous ? 
 Are you indeed come back to me from Rome ? 
 Jealous and angry for me — you, her children ? 
 You are indeed come back to me from Rome ! 
 
 [He draws them both into his arms. 
 Conceive ! ... If you should fail 
 This my infinity of love and shrink 
 From this confusion of you with my being . . . 
 
 [Binding them closer. 
 For you had fled from me to Archelaus, 
 You would have kissed the lips of strangers, 
 
 breathed 
 Air that I did not breathe . . . Your feet were 
 
 turned. 
 Pointed away from me, as feet of corpses . . . 
 There, do not trouble . . . There, you must not 
 weep ! 
 
ACTIL] THE ACCUSER 31 
 
 If it should be my doom ! Conceive ! 
 
 [His voice dies away, as he loses his sons 
 from his clasp. 
 
 (In a whisper.) They cannot ! 
 [As C^SAR, with Antipater, enters, 
 Herod moves forward, trailing the 
 Princes along with him in each arm. 
 I called you, Caesar, 
 
 To be our judge and to decide among us — 
 And yet I fear you cannot. By a tempest 
 Being suddenly subdued, the elements 
 So writhe in me I can but call on you 
 To listen to the moaning of a wind. 
 Will you not call this madness ? 
 C^SAR. The offence ? 
 
 What have these children done ? 
 Herod. Nothing — indeed, 
 
 A thing too small for punishment ; and yet 
 Revolted soldiers shrinking from their legion 
 Need not so blench. 
 C^SAR. Accuse them — 
 
 For either they will clear themselves, or clear 
 Their bosoms of their guilt. 
 
 [The night falls. 
 Herod. If I accused them. 
 
 How should you take account ? You have not 
 
 brooded 
 Over a word through solitudes as long 
 As Time itself. You draw to a tribunal 
 Defects and flaws so delicate, their nature 
 
32 THE ACCUSER [act ii. 
 
 Is perished ere they reach the Judgment Seat. 
 How shall I speak it ? I had waked alone 
 To-morrow, I had sought them as my love 
 Led me to seek them furtively in sleep, 
 Or in their morning laughter : and the slaves 
 Had stretched the carpets to my face and 
 
 feigned 
 They knew not of this flight from my unkindness. 
 My palace had been sorrowful, as if 
 Death had been planted there, and presently 
 The happy news had come that they were 
 
 safe 
 From me, in refuge from me ! They desired 
 To live with Archelaus. 
 
 C^SAR. Then banish them 
 
 A little while to Archelaus' court. 
 They will repent. 
 
 Herod {covering the Princes with his eyes) . O Caesar, 
 One does not banish children. I am old : 
 I love but roses ... I am growing old. 
 
 Alexander. Banish Antipater ! 
 
 Cesar. It is well spoken. 
 
 Banish him, Herod. 
 
 [A cry like a fierce wild animal's is heard. 
 
 Herod. How has he offended ? 
 
 Where is his lack of love ? And his ambition 
 Is to be ever at my side. So quickly 
 Can I forget ? 
 
 CiESAR. Among our idols, Herod, 
 
 One must be master-idol. Break your heart, 
 
ACT II.] THE ACCUSER 33 
 
 If it must be in twain ; let not twain break it ! 
 
 [There is a deep silence, Herod looks 
 round; an obscurity of the suddenly- 
 fallen darkness is on all the faces. 
 Herod. Why is this silence ? Is it that the night 
 Is coming on, when all contention yields ? 
 Armies lie down, with hatred in their breasts, 
 Almost together for the sake of sleep. 
 So must my sons lie down . . . And for the sake 
 Of the great power that would renew them kindly. 
 And all their gifts invigorate. 
 
 [Silently the Princes steal away and 
 Antipater crouches on the ground. 
 This council 
 Is broken up ! [He waves his hand. 
 
 I cannot see their faces . . . It is faded. 
 I cannot see them . . . and they are not banished. 
 [He makes a groping movement and is 
 approaching Antipater, when C^sar 
 arrests him and leads him hack down 
 the hall. Their tread is heard, and the 
 sharp breath of Antipater. 
 
34 THE ACCUSER [act hi. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene 
 
 A half-dark lower room in the Palace, filled with dim, 
 antique treasure. A door at the hack ; far down 
 to the right another ; and in the wall to the left a 
 narrow door and a high, grated window. 
 
 Alexander, Aristobulus, Corinthus 
 
 Alexander. But you must examine this treasure. 
 Corinthus. I have no mind to examine it. It comes 
 
 from the sepulchre of a dead King. 
 Alexander. It comes from the sepulchre of David. 
 
 My father has visited the sepulchre. 
 Corinthus. He has rifled the sepulchre. 
 
 [Alexander and Aristobulus walk 
 among the sunken objects, as if they were 
 kicking dead leaves. 
 Alexander. Confusion ! And what strange images 
 decay has set upon these heaps . . . this glitter 
 among the dust and this breaking to pieces at a 
 touch ! 
 Corinthus. It is horrible. 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 35 
 
 Alexander. Fie, Corinthus, you are old before your 
 time. It is not horrible to secure these jewels 
 from the dust. 
 
 Corinthus. Would you be buried with them ? 
 
 Alexander. I shall be buried royally. I have no 
 fear for my funeral. Heigh ! But we have here 
 a magnificent canopy. Come, Corinthus, help us 
 to set it up. You will not ? Aristobulus ! 
 
 [The youths set up the half -broken canopy. 
 It is royal ! Have you not observed my father 
 has been much more intimate with us of late ? 
 (Patting Aristobulus' head.) Younger! Twin 
 monarchs in a little while. And all this golden 
 furniture our own. 
 
 [He opens the lid of a coffer. 
 
 Corinthus. It is very gloomy here and desperate. 
 Can you not wait till the slaves have received 
 orders concerning the distribution of the furni- 
 ture ? Must you come here, like spies, picking 
 over the jewels ? Do not touch them. Come 
 away. 
 
 Alexander. No, let us pick, pick, and rifle . . . 
 Kings, you know, rifle the sepulchres of Kings. 
 It is a royal custom. Belts and jewelled swords ! 
 See, Corinthus, a present after your first campaign. 
 But this \ ... (he takes up a crown) the sockets for 
 the jewels in this diadem are empty. 
 
 Aristobulus. Yes, they are empty. 
 
 Corinthus. They are staring like empty eyeballs of 
 the dead. 
 
36 THE ACCUSER [act iil 
 
 Alexander. That is how it looks to you, pale 
 Corinthus. I am in favour with my father now, 
 and I shall present him with this unfurnished 
 coronet for repair. Amethysts . . . and again 
 emeralds. 
 
 [He turns the crown about with his fingers. 
 
 Corinthus. Where is Antipater ? 
 
 Alexander. Banish Antipater ! 
 
 Corinthus. Antipater does not steal down into these 
 chambers to handle the gems in the King's 
 treasuries. 
 
 Aristobulus (lifting an old sceptre). Do not concern 
 yourself with Antipater. I no longer concern 
 myself with him. We have the secret . . . 
 flattery ! We can flatter our father to his bent. 
 He believes, he actually credits, that we are only 
 happy in his presence. We repeat that he is our 
 darling, that we only value existence for his sake. 
 He credits us. 
 
 Alexander (crossing the room restlessly). I shall 
 never flatter my father. It is natural he should 
 love us. Fathers do set their hearts on their 
 children. 
 
 [Alexander, who has been playing with 
 the crown, sets it on his head. 
 
 Corinthus. The King ! 
 
 [Enter Herod at the back ; he comes 
 along, straining as if with a burthen, 
 though he carries nothing. His head 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 37 
 
 is bare ; and his long, black hair wild 
 in disordered plaits. He stops before 
 the canopy. 
 
 Herod. Spectres ! 
 
 [He passes on, turns back as if to assure 
 himself he had seen true. The sceptre 
 drops from Aristobulus' hand. 
 Herod rushes out. Those who have 
 followed him pass out after him. 
 
 CoRiNTHUS. Why did I consent to come to this 
 place ? Should my father find me here he would 
 rank me impious. 
 
 Alexander {dashing the crown from his head). 
 Impious, but we are impious. I fear we are 
 ghostly children to our father. He took us for 
 spectres. 
 
 Aristobulus. We are doomed. 
 
 Alexander. He is doomed, the King, our father, 
 Caesar's friend. His face ! And he thought we 
 were spectres. We are to him as ghostly children. 
 We have broken from him, ; we have fled from him. 
 {Stopping suddenly in horror.) We have been to 
 him, he said, as young roses, as the smell of the 
 roses of Mariamne's garden. He has said to us 
 again and again that we were as the balsam of the 
 balsam-trees, that we wafted spice to him as from 
 the lost balm-yards of Jericho. He has said we 
 were to him as Rome, as the days of his lusty- 
 hood with Mark Antony. 
 
38 THE ACCUSER [act iil 
 
 Aristobulus. But his hatred . . . Alexander, it 
 struck the sceptre from my hand. 
 
 Alexander. No, no — he does not hate us. He 
 turned back with that face, I remember, when we 
 were children, and our mother dead, we implored 
 he would send us to Rome. So great a King and 
 we have dishonoured him. 
 
 CoRiNTHUS. If he were reasonable like my father 
 
 Alexander (staring with contempt at Corinthus). 
 He gives alms to the world of his unreason. 
 He is immense, and has the movements of a god. 
 Caesar is astonished at him, and trembles at his 
 tenderness. The whole world is astonished. 
 
 Aristobulus. You speak so ? He murdered our 
 mother. 
 
 Alexander. Peace, peace ! He did not murder 
 her . . . peace, peace ! 
 
 Corinthus. Then you judge she deserved her death, 
 that she did mingle the poison-bowl ? 
 
 Alexander [striking Corinthus). My mother, 
 Queen Mariamne ! But there is not in our blood 
 anything that could injure him. He overwhelms 
 us — he is too terrible . . . My mother ! Did she 
 once plead for her life that you should think that 
 the King murdered her ? 
 
 Enter Tero from the hack 
 
 Tero — speak ! For I fear my father is gone 
 mad. I fear we have undone him. He spread on 
 before his retinue like a wild, limping bird. He 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 39 
 
 was alone . . . without ceremonial. Have you 
 missed him ? Is there truth in this apparition ? 
 
 Tero. Come away from these accursed things ! 
 I came from a tomb, and I beheld you, young 
 creatures, as in a tomb. Away with you ! Go ! 
 
 Aristobulus. We cannot go up to the Palace — the 
 King clanged the door behind him. We cannot 
 move. It is forbidden. 
 
 Alexander (going up to Tero). What has befallen 
 my father ? 
 
 Tero. It is almost forbidden to speak what has 
 
 befallen him . . . There was stench from the 
 
 tomb and dishonour. I heard groaning, and then 
 
 a great whistHng noise like a curse. He issued 
 
 with a cry of ' RebelUous children — Absalom, 
 
 Adonijah — children that were a-hungered for his 
 
 throne, children that would have put him to the 
 
 sword.' . . . And you were here, playing with these 
 
 baubles. He passed you in his frenzy — you are lost ! 
 
 [The door into the treasury is thrown open 
 
 and filled with the spear-points of 
 
 soldiers. There are soldiers also at the 
 
 outer door, 
 
 Aristobulus. I knew we were doomed. We are in 
 this tomb for ever. 
 
 Alexander. Tero, let me see my father ; entreat 
 him to speak with me. Pass these soldiers. 
 
 [Tero advances. 
 
 Tero. Why are you here ? Give place ! I would 
 speak with the King. 
 
40 THE ACCUSER [act hi. 
 
 The Centurion (advancing). You shall speak with 
 the King and of what nearly concerns him. 
 Follow me . . . Let your son come too ! 
 
 [He advances toward the little door in the 
 left walL 
 Aristobulus. Do not leave us, Corinthus. 
 CoRiNTHUS. My father is arrested and my place is at 
 
 my father's side. My place is with him. 
 Tero. Is the King there? I would speak with 
 
 him. 
 Centurion. He will question you, Lord Tero. He 
 is within. 
 
 [The little door shuts behind them. 
 Aristobulus {creeping up to Alexander). It is the 
 door 
 
 Of the torture-chamber. ... 
 Alexander. Yes. 
 The other door barred and with Gaulish spears. 
 [With a low laugh.) Scylla — Charybdis. . . . 
 Aristobulus. We shall hear ? 
 Alexander. Tero is constant in his faithfulness. 
 
 Dear, noble Tero. . . . 
 Aristobulus. He will save us. Listen ! 
 A throng of voices ... I must see ! 
 
 [He draws a golden stool to the wall and 
 
 stands on it that he may look through 
 
 the grating; hut the old seat collapses 
 
 into dust and he falls. 
 
 Alexander {raising him). No, no ! Not spies ! 
 
 No. it will come to us 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 41 
 
 Over the air through stone . . . 
 
 Hush ! A low rumble like a hornet's nest . . . 
 
 I can hear nothing but the anger — nothing ! . . . 
 
 Tero's reply, lost in his beard ! 
 
 A Voice (helow the grating.) My father, 
 
 True, they would wear your sceptre and your 
 crown. 
 
 Oh, you beheld the truth. 
 
 And what you have yourself beheld, uncensured, 
 
 I may affirm. 
 Aristobulus. Antipater ! 
 Alexander. The asp ! 
 
 Antipater {within). And I affirm they hate you 
 from the blood 
 
 That bred them ; of their mother's life they hate 
 you; 
 
 And by her death they hate you deadlier still. 
 Aristobulus [shuddering). A groan ! 
 Alexander. Not Tero . . . Hush ! 
 
 Antipater [within). And I affirm they hate you in 
 the surfeit 
 
 And steadiness of youth : to glut elation 
 
 Of their cold arrogance, they crave your life, 
 
 Your sceptre plundered from their mother's race. 
 
 [A deep groan. 
 
 You fed them with your heart's 
 
 Red blood-drops, with your wounds, as in the 
 desert 
 
 The pelican, vulning itself for offspring, 
 
 Bleeds in its piety . . . and they ! 
 
42 THE ACCUSER [act iil 
 
 My father, but to speak their thanklessness, 
 Should turn the tongue into a cruel stone. 
 They crave your death and they would murder 
 you. [A cry. 
 
 Alexander. He must believe it, having seen us. 
 
 Aristobulus. Tero 
 Will save us — Tero, 
 You know, will save us — Tero . . . 
 Why are you silent ? 
 
 Ai^TivATER (within). Proof! — 
 
 You ask ? A picture still before your gaze ? 
 
 Did you not see the sceptre of King David, 
 
 The crown wherewith he crowned King Solomon 
 
 Held in possession of their hands ? The sceptre 
 
 Of David and the crown wherewith he crowned 
 
 King Solomon, his son ? 
 
 Kings of Judaea, virtual as the line 
 
 Of Asmonaeans, with whose blood your sons, 
 
 Being fruit of Mariamne, are composed. 
 
 Kings they would be by right and not through 
 
 Caesar : 
 Nor is there accusation of their love 
 That is not of hot truth. They seek your life 
 By impUcations so implacable 
 They are as murder ; and abhor your presence. 
 That is to me unweariably sweet ; 
 They jest at your great majesty. My father, 
 For them you need no proof . . . perchance for 
 
 me. 
 Unhappy, torn from the wide desert-plains. 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 43 
 
 Set 'mid the jar of royalties, for me 
 You need, alas, a surety . . . who might seem 
 A serpent to destroy the pelican's 
 Heart-cherished brood . . . This man. 
 This Tero, private to your children's hours, 
 Told me, when in a crevice of the hills . . . 
 You found us there . . . that with great bitter- 
 ness 
 The Princes had besought from his tried bow. 
 Amid the neghgence of hunting-hustle, 
 An arrow fatal to your life, my lord. 
 
 [Turning to Tero. 
 Is it not true that when we were hunting to- 
 gether, yesterday at noon, you confessed that the 
 Prince Alexander had urged you to cast a dart 
 at his father, as if by chance, to murder him ? 
 
 Herod's Voice. O David ! Rebellious children, de- 
 siring my blood. Absalom, Adonijah ! The 
 curse from thy tomb . . . O David ! 
 
 Alexander. I cannot hear Tero's reply. . . . 
 
 Antipater (within). You hear he confesses he spoke 
 with me at noon yesterday ; but he says it was 
 on far other matter — that I should withhold you 
 from visiting King David's tomb. He makes me 
 a liar. We will have the truth. 
 
 Herod's Voice. Bind him ! 
 
 [A pause and scuffle of feet. Alexander 
 hushes Aristobulus. 
 
 {A Voice rings out.) The Princes are innocent. 
 
 Antipater {within). And now, and now ? 
 
44 THE ACCUSER [act hi. 
 
 A Voice. Innocent ... Ye Gods . . . innocent ! 
 Slay not the innocent blood . . . 
 
 Aristobulus. Tero will save us . . . will he not 
 save us ? Why are you silent ? 
 
 Alexander. Through this man's courage we are 
 saved. 
 
 A Voice {in a faint scream). Innocent ! 
 
 [There are cries and sobs, then a terrible 
 shriek, 
 
 A Voice [high and wild). I cannot bear it any longer 
 ... I will confess all ... I have heard the 
 Princes wish you were dead ; for the sake of their 
 dead mother they have wished it again and again, 
 hating converse with her murderer and that they 
 should live with him. . . . Again and again they 
 have yearned to appease the ghosts of the dead. 
 Again and again they have coveted your crown ; 
 again and again they have told me your wives 
 should be shut in tomb-prisons, alive and de- 
 spoiled . . . They would bury you as a slave . . . 
 they deride you as an old man ; they laugh 
 when they have jdelded to you in the hunt some 
 creature they could themselves have killed long 
 before you perceived it. They laugh at your 
 Roman fashion of long ago. They reproach your 
 justice as wild and polluted ; they swear, they will 
 accuse you to Caesar. 
 
 Alexander (to Aristobulus, who falls by his side). 
 These are moments of our Hves . . . these are 
 words of our lips . . . We must die. 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 45 
 
 Herod's Voice (within). Unbar the door . . . 
 Give me my liberty. 
 
 He enters, his Guard behind 
 
 By youth you are condemned, not by old age ; 
 By this Corinthus, by this boy, who could not 
 Suffer his father's straining cries . . . 
 
 {Panting.) who snapt 
 The Hving bond of fellows and the fancies 
 That bind the young with threads of gossamer. 
 How should they hold ? [Advancing nearer. 
 
 He is traitor to you, children ; 
 He has unpacked your wild, exasperate thoughts, 
 Your curses, your contractions, all you muttered 
 Against me as I turned to mount my horse. 
 I often speculated — now I know — 
 What of conspiracy behind your teeth 
 Was hissing at me ; for he poured forth all, 
 As Tero waxed and shrivelled in his pain. 
 He could not see his father at such strife ; 
 And to the torturers, who stayed their hands 
 To bide his chanting, sung us all your story. 
 False from the first — false each of you, and 
 
 then 
 Confederate in your falsity. Sometimes 
 Laughing in note of my infirmities, 
 Sometimes forecasting the felicity, 
 With smile and golden candour, of my death ; 
 And in my softer moments, when I clung 
 And fondled on your beauty, sometimes feigning. 
 
46 THE ACCUSER [act hi. 
 
 But Mariamne did not this, she feigned not ; 
 She never feigned to love . . . O eloquent ! 
 He could not bide his father's pain ! And 
 
 you — 
 This my exposure were an entertainment, 
 And a diversion to you ; it were matter 
 For many foolish jests, save for this power 
 Within the substance of my flesh to doom. 
 You tremble ... it is well ... for now my 
 
 trembling 
 Is not a hollow beating to itself. 
 Aristobulus, you are pale. 
 
 My sons, 
 You shall be put far from me at Sebaste — 
 Some day you shall be strangled there : that 
 
 day 
 Live you expectant of . . . not of my death. 
 Your death. 
 
 I shall not fix the day of doom. 
 Agenor has the death-ring safe. And while 
 You wait in torment and suspense, my torment 
 Shall ghost beside you. [Coming still nearer. 
 
 Have no fear — your tombs 
 Shall be most royal ; you are sons of Kings. 
 
 [Madly he weeps, stretching out his hands 
 toward them. 
 Alexander. Hear me ! 
 
 Herod {turning his head hack and closing his eyes). 
 I will not break your beauty up 
 By torture, and I will not hear your cries. 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 47 
 
 Be still ! Laid by your mother's side for ever, 
 One on each side, at Alexandrium . . . 
 How often have I seen this in the night ! 
 Be still ! It is a vision ... It prevails. 
 
 [He makes a movement of blessing over 
 them, and is drawn hack fainting into 
 the Torture-Chamber. The young men 
 for a while remain speechless. Then 
 Aristobulus sobs, while Alexander 
 stands, with his eyes fixed on the closed 
 door. 
 Aristobulus. Corinthus ! 
 
 My age within a day, our follies grown 
 As on a single stem ... he took the babble, 
 The fleeting malice of our tongues to kill us. 
 
 miserable ! 
 
 Aristobulus. We must forgive Corinthus. 
 Would I could serve my father in his sort ! 
 
 [The Guard enters by the inner door of the 
 Treasure-Room, led by Antipater. He 
 mutters a few words, among them 
 ' Sebaste* to the Guard, then props 
 himself against the wall, white as a 
 spectre. At the sight of the Guard and 
 its leader both Princes hold themselves 
 indomitably firm ; they are bound in 
 silence and are led away, following each 
 other, through the outer door. 
 
 Antipater. I wonder — is his voice still in the vault? 
 
 1 heard it from behind as a sea's roar 
 
48 THE ACCUSER [act iil 
 
 Before me in a cavern . . . Terrible ! 
 
 I have not trapped him to the heart — my sen- 
 tence 
 
 ' Go from me, leave me, see them bound.' My 
 sentence. 
 
 My condemnation ! And these miscreant chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Doomed to Sebaste, he was blessing them ; 
 
 His heavy, heaving breath 
 
 Was laden with their names — ' Aristobulus, 
 
 . . . Her children . . . Alexander . . . Mari- 
 amne.' 
 
 While I, who am himself. 
 
 And of himself and like himself, a shadow 
 
 In the dark water of his very substance, 
 
 I am dismissed to bind them for Sebaste. 
 
 Shall I escape ? No — he shall not escape ! 
 
 An Arab, he has knit his kingdoms up 
 
 Into a kingdom, and I am himself. 
 
 And I am famished as he famishes. 
 
 Am lonesome of his lonesomeness — my father ! . . . 
 
 The hate, the broken blood about my brain ! 
 
 [The door above is opened ; Herod gropes 
 
 down with a lantern, though the light is 
 
 still blue daylight in the doorway through 
 
 which the Princes have passed. 
 
 Herod. Why are you here, Antipater ? Where are 
 
 your brothers ? 
 Antipater. You have doomed my brothers to death ; 
 
 they are passing out by yonder door. 
 
ACT III.] THE ACCUSER 49 
 
 Herod. Ay, banished — it was the will of Caesar. 
 
 [He passes his hand over his eyes and 
 laughs with closed mouth, Antipater 
 shudders. 
 What are you doing here, Antipater ? 
 Antipater {shrilly), I am picking up the echoes in 
 the Hall of Judgment ... I am ready to follow 
 my brothers. Father, an outcast ! 
 
 [Herod looks for a long time at the wide- 
 open door ; then he takes up some 
 jewels, running his -fingers through 
 them. 
 Herod. Do you prize these things ? 
 Antipater. Not these ! 
 
 {He raises his eyes and fixes them on his 
 father. 
 I desire to be with you, to be your only one. 
 Herod. You desire my crown . . . 
 O Antipater ! 
 
 \B.e, in his turn, shudders ; then climbs 
 heavily, hut with speed, up the steps, 
 Antipater rolls on the ground, biting 
 the dust. 
 
50 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Scene 
 
 Beside the fountain Callirrhoe, in the desert by Jericho. 
 
 A black Arab tent, the skirts drawn aside, discovering 
 a throne and cushions in a half-circle. On the 
 left of the tent, the fountain fills a basin in the 
 rock ; on the other side, stretches a desert-horizon, 
 barred by a ruinous, little turret. In front of the 
 tent a brazier is alight. Herod bows over the 
 fountain. 
 
 Herod. It is my new toy, this fountain of Callirrhoe, 
 and it gives me power to be alone . . . For they 
 will leave the old man by the springs for his heal- 
 ing. Doris does not plague me. They think I 
 am comforted of the murmur . . . This fountain 
 is my new god. It laments for ever : its woe 
 never stanches. I should like that my God 
 should have a never-stanching woe, I should like 
 to comfort my God ! I should like to listen to the 
 story of His wrongs. If indeed He were a Father ! 
 If He knew how the heart clogs ! . . . There is 
 such loving in me ! I should like to be as Abishag 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 51 
 
 to David : I should like to be as a maiden to 
 , warm the heart of some old god. There is such 
 loving in me ! I figure to myself this fountain as 
 soothed that I remain at its brink ... I will be 
 faithful. 
 
 [Doris comes from within the folds of 
 
 the tent and stands by the brazier. 
 
 There is Doris ! She is shivering, and she looks 
 
 over the sands. Doris, little wife, what are you 
 
 straining for ? 
 
 Doris. Herod, the wind blows too hard by the 
 
 fountain. You should return to your tent. 
 Herod. Yes, presently. 
 
 [He tries to catch her hand. 
 Doris (throwing back his caress) . Do not heed me — I 
 am old. 
 
 [She goes back into the tent. 
 Herod. ' I am old — do not heed me.' She says 
 we should not heed the old. Well, we are all 
 white-headed ; we must all begin to live to our- 
 selves. Snowy councillors ! Nothing but snow 
 round me ! Doris, snow-white ! Balbus and 
 Nicholaus, snow-white too ; all my councillors, 
 snow-white. The old are so silent to one 
 another. It is snow, snow ! 
 
 [A troop of children runs round the tent 
 
 and dances round the brazier. Then 
 
 the troop runs off. 
 
 {Calling.) Children ! . . . They do not heed ; and 
 
 an indulgence in me lets them alone. They will 
 
52 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 come presently and let me down into their world 
 and transform me. I shall become like a goldfish 
 among a darting group of goldfish in the pond. 
 They have no interest in anything I have done, 
 and yet I have never displeased them. 
 
 [Little Herod Agrippa returns from 
 among the children and stands square 
 before the King. 
 
 Herod Agrippa. Grandfather, you have built the 
 Temple at Jerusalem — what shall I build to God ? 
 Shall I build another Temple ? 
 
 Herod (drawing the hoy to him). You shall protect 
 the Temple I built ; you shall keep it safe as 
 King David kept his flock — safe from the bear. 
 You are stronger than the lion or the bear. You 
 shall protect the lovely House. 
 
 Herod Agrippa. Will that please God ? 
 
 Herod. It will please God. 
 
 Herod Agrippa. I shall be made High Priest, and 
 enter the Holy Place when I am King. 
 
 Herod [groaning). No, no ! You can never be 
 High Priest : it is forbidden to the Race of Edom. 
 
 Herod Agrippa. Grandfather, I shall be made 
 High Priest, and I shall set up the Golden Eagle 
 the young men have plucked down from the 
 roof of the Temple. Do not groan any more. I 
 shall set up Caesar's Golden Eagle to protect the 
 Temple. 
 
 Herod. God would have none of my images. You 
 must not set up the Roman Eagle : it is accursed. 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 53 
 
 Herod Agrippa. But Caesar, grandfather, is always 
 the friend of God. 
 
 Herod. You must not be dreaming of Caesar. 
 God holds I have desecrated His Temple with 
 the Golden Eagle ; He has cast it down ; He has 
 cursed it ; and I have fled to the desert. You 
 must love the Temple, you must be ready to lay 
 down your life for the Temple — but remember, 
 child, God will have no images . . . 
 
 [The boy fidgets and slips off. 
 Just as one could pour into youth some wisdom, 
 some power for its seasoning, youth escapes. 
 
 [Herod Agrippa' s laugh is heard behind 
 the tent. 
 I perceive there can be no exchange of gifts 
 between the young and the old. How I abhor 
 these children ! We shall play no more together, 
 for I have confessed to them I have offended 
 God. O my God, how I love Him and have 
 offended ! . . . They are all dead that trampled 
 my Golden Eagle, for if my people deny me the 
 care of God's House, then shall my people perish ! 
 ... I have come to the desert to die, and I have 
 none to die with. One should keep one's chil- 
 dren for this hour. When we die we are in the 
 desert and we need that one should give us drink 
 . . . some passing caravan . . . some relief ! 
 Antipater ! Antipater ! Now I have grasped his 
 name, I am saved as if from drowning ! There is 
 rumour he has left Rome, and, uncommanded, 
 
54 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 returns to Judaea. He is on his way ... I will 
 send messengers to speed him . . . Now I am 
 sick I must remember my first-bom. Easy to 
 my faults, overcome by my excess of power — 
 Antipater ! Ah ! shall I draw to me those eyes 
 that glittered, fastening to the sapphire on my 
 brow ? Those void eyes that stared at me for 
 the crown-jewels, as if I were dead ? It shall 
 be a test to tell him I am eaten of the worms. 
 Will he be my nurse — Antipater ? 
 
 [Doris has been standing behind him. 
 He turns and sees her. 
 O Doris, you quicken at the name. We are old 
 ... It is lonesome . . . See, there is a little 
 fire ; they have lighted a fire. 
 
 [He crouches down by her under the brazier. 
 It is long since your Antipater went away to Rome. 
 Let us speak of him. (Spreading his hands out 
 in the flame.) Let us speak of him and his 
 return. 
 Doris. You have forbidden me to speak of him. 
 Herod. No, no ! I have forbidden you to speak of 
 the dead. [He surveys the fire.) It is very lone- 
 some, and in the flames there is nothing of the 
 future. We sit by the flames and they glow . . . 
 and they speak to us of their young days ... of 
 all they have wrought, the cities they have 
 destroyed, the sacrifices they have consummated ; 
 how they have played with the tombs, how they 
 have had their pleasure with the dead. (Rising.) 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 55 
 
 Not with my dead ! No, my dead are not buried 
 Roman ! They are very fair. No, no ! they are 
 not murdered of the flames. 
 
 Doris. Herod, you have a hving son ; do not speak 
 of the dead. 
 
 Herod. I would be patient with you, Doris You 
 have been very faithful. You have waited my 
 pleasure and I have sufficed you. Doris, it is 
 hard on you I am so sick ; it is like slow dying to 
 you . . . For you would not care, would you, to 
 live any more when I am dead ? Doris, why 
 are you stammering ? 
 
 Doris. My lord will not die. 
 
 Herod. Yes, little Arab, httle Arab Queen ; 1 am 
 dying before your eyes. You have watched me 
 and you have not wept. 
 
 Doris (at his feet, caressing him). Let him come back 
 to the fountain : let him drink the waters of heal- 
 ing. My lord is my life ; he is the hght of my 
 days. 
 
 [Herod suffers himself to be led back to 
 the fountain. 
 
 Herod. Will you give me to drink, Doris ? 
 
 [But Doris is standing petrified before 
 Salome, who comes suddenly from 
 behind the tent, with a phial and parch- 
 ment in her hand. 
 
 Salome. Hold, hold ! Herod, you must not take 
 anything from her hand. There is conspiracy. 
 You must trust no one about you. 
 
56 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Herod. O Salome, this is an old word — conspiracy ! 
 
 You have arrested me from drinking many a 
 
 draught that would have healed me. I will not 
 
 be arrested by your lies — so familiar the voice of 
 
 this temptation, bidding me believe Mariamne 
 
 unfaithful, and my slaves unfaithful, and my 
 
 children unfaithful. Leave me alone ! I will 
 
 drink. 
 Salome. Then my business shall be with the Queen. 
 
 I am the bearer of a letter to her from her son. 
 
 And I must read it to her alone, for she cannot 
 
 read. 
 
 [Herod m^s to grasp the letter ; the cup 
 rolls into the fountain. 
 Herod. Do not shiver, Doris ! You are faithful. 
 
 There is some miscarriage, and whatever the 
 
 children have done you are faithful. 
 
 [He takes her hands. 
 
 Doris, these hands were warming at a brazier ; 
 
 Why have they sunk so cold ? 
 
 Patience, Salome I 
 
 There are some words the aged must not hear. 
 
 They must not hear of children that are false ; 
 
 Nor must they be accused, not in their age. 
 
 Patience ! 
 Salome. No patience — for they are in league — 
 
 My Arab lover and your Arab son ; 
 
 And Sileus has himself . . . 
 Herod. Ah, Sileus, is it ? 
 
 All plotting and mirage I Do not be childish ; 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER ' 57 
 
 We must not be so childish any more. 
 If Sileus in his wrath with me, because 
 I would not wed you with him, seeks revenge, 
 That were a little thing. 
 
 [Turning slowly away from Doris. 
 It is not Sileus 
 Can set my brain to rock in dizzy circles. 
 Can set my heart to moan among the hills. 
 If from the north, the south, the east, the west 
 Spreads apprehension, it is all the same. 
 All from one quarter : . . . 
 
 Shall I read your scroll ? 
 Salome. No, no ! you cannot see. These are the 
 words : 
 ' Mother, there is for thee within this box 
 That which will make Antipater a King — 
 Sileus' young mistress in Arabia hath _ 
 
 Devised the poison. Sileus is my friend.' 
 Herod (grasping her wrist). You have played at this 
 before ; my cupbearer 
 Would poison me, you said, and Mariamne, 
 You said, had mixed the cup . . . 
 
 She, innocent ! 
 I have come to see so wide an innocence. 
 Spreading like sunlight on the battlefield . . . 
 I will not be impatient. Presently 
 A criminal shall drink this in my sight. 
 Salome. So did one drink before — so falling down — 
 B.EROD (raving distracted) . . . . This letter, stay !.. . 
 
 [She unrolls it before him. 
 
58 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Each reed-stroke on the page Antipater's . . . 
 Has never reached its goal. 
 Salome. But question Doris. 
 
 Do you not see she trembles ? 
 Herod. She is old, 
 
 And she is very fond ; needs must she tremble. 
 If this [lifting the scroll) should prove its nature as 
 
 a truth, 
 How should she bear the truth — she is too old. 
 
 [Doris falls, clasping Herod's feet. 
 Doris. Herod, but you will spare Antipater ? 
 Have mercy ! ... He is hasting to your tents. 
 Do with me what you will . . . His enemies 
 Are thick upon him, and your ears so quick. 
 So open to all evil . . . Herod, listen . . . 
 We have such terror of you, and the phial . . . 
 I am ready. I will drink it in your sight — 
 Drink it, if first 
 You will make oath to spare Antipater ! 
 
 [Herod stands erect, silent ; Doris rises 
 startled. As if unconsciously, he begins 
 to strip Doris of her ornaments. 
 Herod. Salome, 
 See that the sentries keep guard, but if 
 This son that, as it seems, is drawing home, 
 Approach, at his demand, let him pass free. 
 
 [He goes on stripping Doris of her 
 jewels. 
 Go- 
 Salome, call my counsellors to aid me. 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 59 
 
 Let Balbus come and quickly Nicholaus 
 To aid me : draw them round me in my 
 tent. 
 
 [Exit Salome. By now the ornaments of 
 Doris lie in a heap on the floor. 
 Doris. Is it for death ? What would you do with 
 me ? 
 Is it for death ? 
 Herod. Chains ! Amulets ! 
 
 I am unfreighting you, my camel, I 
 Who loaded you so costly. 
 
 [He examines the jewels one by one as he 
 takes them off; some he wrenches, 
 others he lifts in the air and smiles as 
 they glitter. 
 
 Ah, a thing 
 I had forgotten, I remember now — 
 I bought it from an Ishmaelitish lad. 
 I am glad to have it back. 
 
 Ho, amulets ! 
 To work their fascination and effects. 
 As still birds on their nests — these chains, pro- 
 tections, 
 I armed you with all these ; these kept you 
 
 faithful— 
 Away ! 
 
 This pearl that rose between the breasts 
 Of Mariamne, like a valley-dome. 
 Now among ruts and gritty warts . . . 
 
 Be patient ! 
 
6o THE ACCUSER [ACT iv. 
 
 These are my bridegroom-hands and should be 
 
 deft . . . 
 The knot miscarries of the jasper-stones ; 
 And here a collar that I cannot snap ! 
 Let it alone ! 
 
 Are you quite stripped, quite bare ? 
 [He takes her by the shoulders and 
 pushes her out behind the rock of the 
 fountain. 
 Now you shall go back to the wilderness. 
 
 [Covering her face with her hands, she runs 
 out toward the desert. 
 I thought she would be tethered to my grave, 
 Chained as my camel, and to rot beside me . . . 
 But she is gone, is strayed . . . 
 
 Antipater ! 
 Would that these sands 
 Would sweep up solid round us as a wall, 
 That I might hang upon his neck and spread 
 A deafness through my senses to aught else. 
 Save that he is my son ! 
 
 [His Councillors begin to file in. 
 But even now 
 The pitiless, wise faces congregate ; 
 And in my bosom it is growing stranger 
 Than any foreign land. I cannot kill, 
 I cannot give award . . . 
 
 There is Shemiah — 
 He pleaded with me once for Mariamne ; 
 He pleaded I should put her in Masada, 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 6i 
 
 Not take her life. 
 
 [He goes up tottering to Shemiah. 
 Shemiah, I have use 
 For something that you offered. 
 
 [He takes and fondles Shemiah 's hands 
 and paces a little along with him. 
 
 At that hour 
 I could not use it. Offer it again, 
 Shemiah ! Look, it is a day of doom : 
 I must make accusation. But your part 
 Has ever been that of petitioner. 
 Of me you made entreaty for the Queen 
 That I should spare her . . . Your unanswered 
 
 prayers 
 Have broken in upon my sleep . . . The hour 
 Is now propitious . . . 
 
 {Pointing to the others.) They will give a judgment 
 Remorseless, if no patience. Counsel me 
 Your way of gentleness. 
 
 When they condemn, 
 As presently they will, beseech my mercy. 
 Shemiah. I cannot, King ! 
 
 [Herod turns swiftly away from Shemiah 
 and faces the Councillors : he stops 
 before blind Babbas — then slowly takes 
 the throne. After a struggle, he begins 
 to speak. 
 Herod. It is not of one matter I would speak. 
 It is of many kingdoms, the revolt 
 Of many kingdoms, and an amnesty 
 
62 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Is in my breast ... a pardon. 
 
 Do not tempt 
 
 To make my breast a den of raging lions. 
 
 I cannot bear the noise. 
 
 I am accused ; 
 
 And many are accused. Antipater, 
 
 And Doris — and Salome — and myself. 
 
 Give me protection ; let me feel your presence 
 
 Around me as great wings. O my beloved, 
 
 Wait with me on the moment ! In my bosom 
 
 There are such changes as from day to night ; 
 
 More fervent and of peril more extreme 
 
 Home from the night to day. 
 
 I judged in darkness : 
 
 Now as the light shoots down on me it shows 
 
 A spectacle so wondrous, in my awe 
 
 And in my joy and terror at the vision, 
 
 I watch, I guard the vision, but for judgment 
 
 I have no faculty. 
 
 Be round me, let 
 
 No fury slash into the glassy sea ! 
 
 Sustain me of your love ! 
 NiCHOLAUS. We cannot. King. 
 
 Herod. Aid me ! 
 
 NiCHOLAUS. We cannot aid you : not to mercy. 
 
 Herod. No, no ! You are not aiding me. No, no ! 
 
 You cannot aid. 
 
 [He descends the throne. 
 Babbas, I saved your life, 
 
 I spared you, I was gentle . . . 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 63 
 
 There is darkness 
 Now in my heart, so fierce an eddying pool 
 Of darkness ! I am striving for my wits. 
 We all should be at prayer, making atonement 
 For this great evil that is done. I would 
 Abase myself in penance : but no instant 
 Is given me for my tears. 
 B ABB AS. You are weeping, Herod. 
 
 Herod. Babbas, you do not see . . . Antipater 
 
 Has ridden swift, is now at the tent-skirts. 
 Babbas. I hear 
 
 His slippery, quick feet. Is he alone ? 
 Herod. He comes in purple, and he beats the ground 
 Wildly as Cain . . . 
 
 [Herod drags himself back to the 
 throne, then hides his face in his 
 hands. There is a great silence: An- 
 tipater, entering, kneels at Herod's 
 feet. A voice is heard, as if a stranger 
 were speaking. 
 
 You thought to find me here 
 Dead at your feet. 
 
 (Bowing on his hands down lower.) I live . . . 
 And I can grant petitions : whisper me. 
 
 [Antipater half-rises, glancing round the 
 circle ; then he kneels again and 
 whispers. 
 Antipater. To be your son, your heir, to have no 
 rival, 
 To be your own for ever. 
 
64 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Herod (planting his hands on Antipater's neck). 
 
 Sycophant ! 
 O desert-tongue ! You thought to find me 
 
 here 
 Dead in my tent. And now we shall enact 
 Your deed in effigy. 
 
 Give me some wretch 
 The judges have condemned to death. 
 
 [Slaves are despatched. 
 Before 
 These holy men, you shall behold his death, 
 Even so effecting mine in effigy. 
 
 [An old condemned criminal is brought in. 
 The sentence of the law be done on you ! 
 
 [Herod takes a gohlet standing on a table 
 by him, and pours the poison into it : 
 but he draws back his hand from lifting 
 it and commands Nicholaus. 
 
 Give him the cup to drink 1 
 • Drink, as an infant from his mother's bosom ; 
 Drink as in happy confidence. O happy ! 
 A sucking child ! 
 
 [The man reels, falls convulsed, and dies. 
 This is an image ! You 
 And I and Prince Antipater are seeing 
 Another, not this criminal, another. 
 As old as he in years and many sins. 
 Look ! but the wrinkles straighten. All is judged 
 And done and imaged. 
 
 Take the idol hence, 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 6$ 
 
 Into the dark ... for we have seen the sight 
 Of which it is the carven stone, we all, 
 I, you, and Prince Antipater ! 
 
 Now speak, 
 If you can heave up action to the lips . . . 
 
 [He watches the corpse being carried out. 
 Ha, but this hanging face ! 
 The hair not dyed safe to the silver roots. 
 
 man ! O image ! Dust as yet of stone ; 
 Dust, dust ! elders . . . 
 
 Aid me ! 
 NiCHOLAUS. We cannot aid you — not to mercy. 
 We who have seen the picture in this deed. 
 The swiftness of the venom. 
 
 [Herod again covers his face with both 
 hands. 
 Antipater {in a shrill voice from the ground). It was 
 venom 
 Deadly and flashing deep : it was the venom 
 Bred for you drop by drop. It was a cup 
 For you to drink and was prepared for you 
 Out of my banishment. 
 
 {Kneeling upright.) I am your blood — 
 
 1 bear no absence and I bear no rival. 
 
 You drew me from the desert, from the race 
 You had forsworn, the race of Edom — slowly 
 You took my love out to yourself. As creatures. 
 Wild creatures, a wild horse. 
 With black-brimmed eyeballs, or a wild dog 
 tamed 
 
 £ 
 
^ THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Give passion of the desert to their master, 
 
 I gave my ecstasy . . . You had desired 
 
 That I should tarry by you in your sleep, 
 
 Lest any should assail. I watched you breathing, 
 
 I watched your sickness ; I have seen your 
 
 eyes 
 Ravished of fondness — you, so hard, you care 
 For waking and for sleeping and for breathing 
 Without my voice to waken you, my touch. 
 My kisses . . . 
 
 I contrived your death. 
 As you contrived the death of Mariamne. 
 Yet she could live without you and beyond — 
 I cannot live like that, an animal 
 That being left of you upon the shore 
 Dies on the shore. [There is silence. 
 
 [The silence continues unbroken. 
 And where you love you killed : — 
 Mariamne, doubting of her love, and jealous 
 That she should love the air by which she lived. 
 Your sons, who would have loved you had you 
 
 trusted 
 That love you levy, but you would not trust . . . 
 They plotted, grew more distant, and were 
 
 strangled — 
 You gave the word to me — within Sebaste. 
 So, in your likeness, of your very nature 
 And colour of your passion, in my rage. 
 Exiled from you at Rome, and knowing you 
 But as a mourner for my murdered brothers, 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER ^7 
 
 Being of your temper and your jealousy, 
 I could not think of you alive. You know, 
 Father, that lust — by Mariamne's fate, 
 And by the fate of well-loved Alexander, 
 You know that lust. And to extinguish it 
 You have another victim. 
 
 \B.e creeps close to his father's feet. 
 I will lick 
 These dregs up from the floor, in all their venom, 
 If you desire my death to satisfy 
 That great exasperation that in Kings 
 Craves massacre, or that a single object 
 Should perish slow and of deaths multiform. 
 
 [The attendants restrain him. 
 . . . But if indeed 
 
 Compunction take you, if you have such love 
 That you would grieve for me, and start on journeys 
 To turn home sudden — as for Alexander — 
 Then you may spare me, father ; I am yours ! 
 What will the days be to you if I perish ? 
 NiCHOLAUS (to Herod). Give judgment ! Speak ! 
 For Prince Antipater 
 The judgment of our wisdom is, he dies, 
 And for the sin God most abhors. He is, 
 Attested by his hand, a parricide. 
 
 [Unrolling the scroll of the letter in 
 Antipater' s face. 
 You sought your father's life, your father's throne. 
 What will the days be to him if you perish ? 
 Safe days ! 
 
68 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Antipater (addressing the Councillors). They had 
 been safe if he had made me 
 
 The apple of his eyes ! But his eyes turned 
 
 Away from me as from a bloody field ; 
 
 But his voice shifted in its tones the moment 
 
 It must respond to me. The way he moved 
 
 A little distance off at my approach, 
 
 Involved me in the silent certainty 
 
 I was an exile from his heart for ever. 
 
 I plotted for his hfe — ill have I plotted. 
 NiCHOLAUS. Give judgment, King. 
 Herod (removing his hand from over his eyes). 
 There was a counsel, elders. 
 
 And from young lips, Banish Antipater. 
 
 I will not take your counsel, but that counsel — 
 
 Banish Antipater ... a little way. 
 
 Almost within my sight and yet removed . . . 
 
 Yon little fort . . . not far. Remove him from 
 me, 
 
 If that to him is punishment. Remove him 
 
 A stone's throw from my presence and my love. 
 Antipater (in a murmur). You have tried Rome, 
 the miles of separation — 
 
 Venom, my full response. Near and yet severed 
 
 .... It whirls the death-sands ! 
 Herod. Take my son away. 
 
 And shut him in the little desert-fort. 
 Antipater. As Mariamne in Masada's fort, 
 
 Beside the Dead Sea beach. . . . 
 Herod. So, as I loved her ! 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 69 
 
 Antipater. And safe as Alexander and his brother, 
 
 Shut in Sebaste — safe ! . . . 
 
 Your fortalice is full of scorpions, owls, 
 
 Adders and stoups of water in the floor . . . 
 
 [He stands with outstretched arms, and 
 shrieks. 
 
 Sebaste ! No, my father, not a fort ! 
 Herod. I follow counsel sent in oracle. 
 
 And I have heard you speak of love as echoes 
 
 Speak of far voices to a listener — 
 
 Echoes about the rocks and little towers 
 
 Of wildernesses ... 
 
 Take my son away, 
 
 A stone's throw from my presence and my love. 
 Antipater. Sebaste ! Father, but they did not cry. 
 
 They did not tell their love. You heard no sound 
 
 From Mariamne, Mariamne's children ; 
 
 You do not know they loved you, and no echoes 
 
 Leap from the dumb. 
 Herod. They were of royal race — 
 
 Impenetrable — sealed. 
 
 {To the guard.) Take him away ! 
 
 He gnaws worse than the worms that eat my 
 life! 
 
 He would have killed me, as the worm that kills. 
 
 Away, away ! [He sobs, 
 
 Antipater. My mother, let her plead ! 
 
 Beside you, faithful — and no echo ! 
 NicHOLAUS. Prince, 
 
 The lady Doris, who had mixed the venom 
 
70 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 In treacherous wine, now wanders on the desert, 
 Bare of all honour and all ornament. 
 Herod. Away ! It sullies love to bandy words. 
 
 Away ! — to walls deaf-mute and deafened doors ! 
 Antipater. Your feet — one kiss ! 
 
 [They restrain him and he is forced away. 
 He turns at the tent door. 
 What will your life be to you if I perish ? 
 
 [Exit Antipater guarded. With a wave 
 of the hand Herod dismisses his 
 Councillors, hut holds hack Nicholaxjs 
 hy his cloak. 
 Herod. Bring me a draught of water and an apple. . . 
 It seems, I have not eaten for a month 
 An apple — 
 
 That red-blush sort that creams up to the knife. 
 [NiCHOLAUS whispers to a slave, and 
 himself goes out of the tent, returning 
 with water from the fountain. 
 An apple — 
 
 How slow you are, you do not give it me ! 
 NiCHOLAUS [as the slave re-enters with the fruit). 
 On the instant it is plucked, and from the bough 
 You shook but yesterday. 
 Herod [greedily) . They are ripe apples — 
 Yet ripening, snatched 
 From the voluptuous doting of the sun. 
 A little sharp . . . 
 
 I am fainting, Nicholaus. 
 This faintness of sick appetite — it goads me ; 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 71 
 
 It will not let 
 
 The sunken camel drop upon his knees ; 
 It will not give me privilege of death. 
 NiCHOLAUS. Wine, there is wine ! 
 Herod. The juices of the apple, 
 
 The curdling juice. 
 
 [He takes a knife and begins to fare the apple. 
 There 1 I am satiate. 
 How tenderly it eats. 
 
 NiCHOLAUS {watching him) . Why, King, this is your 
 wont ; you are recovered : 
 And we shall have you in our midst. 
 Herod (stopping in the paring) . We ? Who ? 
 
 Antipater ? 
 
 [With a sudden revulsion of feeling he attempts 
 to stab himself, wounding his arm as those 
 round him snatch the knife. Then he faints. 
 NiCHOLAUS. Hold, hold ! 
 
 Madman, you shall not ! This is sacrilege : 
 You shall not dare, you, an anointed King. 
 (Cries heard all round the tent.) The King is dead. 
 
 King Herod, he is dead — 
 Is dead ! The King is dead ! 
 Herod (opening his eyes). O Nicholaus, 
 
 God took the knife, and gave me of this 
 
 swoon, 
 As safe as balmy water : Jericho 
 Has no such balm. What is it I had 
 
 dreamed ? 
 And can I die as Moses of a kiss ? 
 
72 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Enter Jailer 
 
 Jailer {to Nicholaus). The Prince Antipater would 
 bid me loose him — 
 Is the King breathing still, O Councillor ? 
 
 Herod {suddenly raising his head) . Antipater would 
 come ? . . . Why would Antipater 
 Be loosed ? 
 
 Jailer {with a salaam). You being called, O King, 
 Across the sands as dead. 
 
 Herod. And in what heart 
 
 Would he be loosed to seize the crown ? 
 
 The Jailer. With fury, 
 
 And one long laugh. 
 
 Herod. His sentence — let him loose 
 
 To judgment, to the Dark of Hades, night 
 That swerves not ! Kill him, send him forth to 
 
 judgment ! 
 Call the Centurion of my guard, and with 
 
 him 
 Join half-a-dozen soldiers. Kill my son, 
 As you would kill a bear or straying Hon 
 Among the homes of men and vales of com. 
 His is not of our palaces. Strike swiftly, 
 But swiftly — for wild creatures give the slip 
 To death with stratagems. Then bury him 
 Ignobly, not within the royal tombs, 
 But in my city of Hyrcanium, 
 That looks from high upon the desert-strands. 
 The pits and the acclivities. [Exit Jailer. 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 73 
 
 A laugh ! 
 
 Nicholaus, and I had shut him up 
 With heat of secret visits in my heart . . . 
 
 Of how I should slip down to reach him, scarcely 
 
 Biding to-morrow in my loneliness, 
 
 He in his loneliness. Nicholaus, 
 
 When I was young I heard the cries and wailings 
 
 Of Arabs when their dead are carried out : 
 
 1 thought there were in him such cries for me ; 
 But on the air news of my death went forth. 
 And there was made no cry. 
 
 Call me Salome ! 
 Call her, for I am dying. 
 Call her ! I have a purpose lest I die 
 Too hard for one that dies in solitude 
 
 [A slave is despatched, 
 ... Is she grown negligent ? Year after year 
 I drew the creatures that I love down to me ; 
 I drew my doves to call. It is my wont, 
 It is my pleasure, and I love to seek them, 
 To find them in the chambers unaware. 
 Breathing without suspicion or asleep. 
 And in her niche 
 
 I ever found Salome. Not to-day . . . 
 Yet she is coming. 
 
 There are many tombs 
 All round me, and no mourners round the tombs ; 
 That is not well. 
 Nicholaus. Caesar will mourn you. King. 
 
 Should not that be enough ? 
 
74 THE ACCUSER [act iv. 
 
 Herod. No, no ! These times 
 
 Are so disordered they disorder God, 
 
 And He is grown unnatural ... 
 
 Hereafter 
 
 There will be none to love Him in my fashion, 
 
 So royally, with so vast a pomp. Hereafter 
 
 He will lament me. 
 NiCHOLAUS. He will bring to mind 
 
 Your zeal for Him. He will forgive your sins. 
 
 Salome enters 
 
 Herod (raising himself). He will avenge my wrongs. 
 (To Salome.) I have provided, 
 Salome, all my lands shall weep for me. 
 It is a sound that in my sepulchre 
 Will drive the winds away. 
 
 You are astonished ? 
 But I have ever comforted the dead 
 With lamentation ; all my leisure hours. 
 And in the night's long idleness, and when 
 My power hath rested on me as a crown, 
 I have lamented . . . 
 
 First for Mariamne, 
 First and for ever ... for the boys 
 Cut off, that bore her image ... for the child 
 Of Doris, and for Doris, that lone mother. . . . 
 Salome. What would you do, my brother ? I am 
 
 old— 
 Herod. Ay, it is that ! And I would have young 
 voices. 
 
ACT IV.] THE ACCUSER 75 
 
 And women's voices, and the cries of children, 
 
 As they had lost their mother in the wilds. 
 
 I would have young men wailing for their fathers, 
 
 And women wailing for their husbands slain. 
 
 If thou art faithful, thou wilt pledge this thing. 
 
 By Edom thou wilt pledge me, by my first. 
 
 Most ancient home . . . 
 
 There must be sacrifice ! 
 
 And all my chiefs once reverend to my heart, 
 
 Whom I had so delighted in, who would not 
 
 That I should rule them, in a host must perish. 
 
 They shall be gathered in the hippodrome 
 
 Slowly as twiHght musters on the plain. 
 
 It is my will that they should muster there 
 
 To hear some new decree, or for a council. 
 
 Or for the execution of some doom. 
 
 There let them tarry till my funeral. 
 
 There let my soldiers kill them one by one. 
 
 [Salome shakes, as if palsied. 
 
 You have but ill-conceived ... I must be 
 mourned. 
 
 Let there be many orphans in the land ! 
 Salome. They will but weep their fathers. 
 Herod. From those tears 
 
 A race will spring that shall outshine the sun. 
 
 I do not fear 
 
 To make of children orphans, or to lay 
 
 On any noble heart calamity . . . 
 
 No hurt done when the tents are broken up ; 
 
 There is no hurt 
 
^6 THE ACCUSER [ACT IV. 
 
 By fire or pillage ; it is when the slave 
 Makes accusation, when the child is hard, 
 When the wife gives no comfort of her beauty 
 That the land fades away. 
 
 Let there be orphans ; 
 Let there be many orphans in the land ; 
 Young ravens too that cry for bread, and bleating 
 Of many flocks unfostered on the plains. 
 My son Antipater 
 
 Struck at his chains, would burst them in his fury ; 
 He cried exultant when they cried me dead . . . 
 The world must be set right again. Salome, 
 The kingdom of the world cannot be saved, 
 Nor can the harvest-field yield up her fruit. 
 Nor can the moon rise up except in blood. 
 Unless the young with tears lament the dead. 
 Salome, are you faithful ? . . . Speak ! 
 
 {Re falls forward on her neck, dead. 
 
TRISTAN DE L^ONOIS' 
 
 * Yseult, ma vie, Yseult, ma mort.' 
 
 *Vidi Paris, Tristano.' 
 
 Inferno,, canto quinto. 
 
PERSONS 
 
 King Mark of Cornwall. 
 
 Sir Tristan de LfioNois, his nephew. 
 
 Duke Hoel of Brittany. 
 
 Sir Kaherdin, his son. 
 
 Duke Audret, a vassal of King Mark. 
 
 Queen Yseult la Belle, wife to King Mark, 
 Duchess Yseult aux Blanches Mains, wife to Sir Tristan. 
 Brangaena, the Queen's Bower-Maiden. 
 
 Courtiers^ Mariners^ Servants. 
 
TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Outside the apse of an old chapel, at either end, is 
 a tomb, one of chalcedony and one of beryl. 
 
 From the beryl tomb a rose-tree has broken forth : it 
 makes^an arch of red blossoms across the apse and 
 plunges its strong shoots into the tomb of chalce- 
 dony. 
 
 Under the arch Amor is standing with reversed torch, 
 and in his other hand a goblet, hung with sea- 
 weeds and tarnished. 
 
 Amor. Up from the sea-depths I have brought 
 This my cup in which was wrought 
 My spell long years afar — 
 Years that now are, 
 Underground, thy own. 
 And lie beneath thy throne. 
 
 Venus came forth from out the sea, . 
 Darkness and immensity : 
 Down thither have I dived, 
 From the gulf rived 
 This goblet hung with seeds, 
 The soundless sea- wrack breeds. 
 
 79 
 
So TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 
 
 And I have brought it to thee, Death, 
 Up from the deep where Love's breath 
 First had desire and rose : 
 thou, deep Close 
 Of Love's mortaUty, 
 A gift of love — to thee ! 
 
 Lo, this encrusted thing I hold 
 Is full of wine, new and bold 
 As these red roses' tide. 
 That spreads them wide ! 
 On thy old tombs I pour 
 From out my relic hoar. 
 
 [He makes libation on the tomb of beryl and 
 the tomb of chalcedony. Then he lifts 
 his torch. 
 
 There is no rose in the world Hke the rose-tree of 
 Tintagel, 
 
 The rose that leapt and fell 
 
 From a lover's tomb ; 
 
 Its thorn and leaves and bloom 
 
 Dreaming a goal and stirred 
 
 To flight as an autumn bird. 
 
 With a track to learn. 
 
 With a space to bum. 
 
 And the air to travel, 
 
 Till in her bed of gloom 
 The loved is straightly caught from the tomb, 
 
 Wherever the plunging rose finds room. 
 
PROLOGUE 8i 
 
 This rose will not fail of his goal ; 
 
 He has power 
 
 To push through the tower 
 
 Where the bells toll : 
 This rose is swept along by the power 
 Of his fragrance as by a soul. 
 
S2 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 
 
 ACT I 
 Scene 
 
 The Hall of the Castle of Tintagel. 
 
 King Mark and Queen Yseult la Belle sit side 
 by side on their thrones. 
 
 Brangaena sits on the steps of the Queen's throne. 
 
 The feast is over ; the Cornish Nobles still sit at 
 the long tables. 
 
 A Bard with oak-wreath and a great harp recoils 
 before the forbidding hand of Yseult, who, with 
 drooped head, yet silences his lay. 
 
 King Mark. You will not listen ? Autumn even- 
 ing-tide 
 Is pensive for its music — very heavy 
 At heart are autumn evenings. Will you not 
 listen ? 
 Yseult. No ! 
 
 [There is a long silence. 
 . . . Let autumn rouse to winter I What have 
 
 songs 
 To do with the unleafing branches ? Rouse 
 The jest ! Light up, light up ! 
 
 Bring in a fool I 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LfiONOIS 83 
 
 Mark. Ah, to be adverse to your will for ever ! 
 I cannot give command 
 For Triolet to come ; 
 
 I cannot say to the grave. Make mirth, restore 
 Our Triolet of France to ring his bells, 
 And draw his flock behind him, wheresoever 
 His tinkle find its pasture. 
 
 Triolet 
 Is gone ! 
 
 Will you not hsten ? 
 YSEULT. No ! 
 
 Mark. Then bring the chess-boards ! 
 
 (To YsEULT.) I will win our game. 
 Cries. Chess-boards ! Ay, ay, the royal game ! 
 YsEULT. Your king — 
 
 Can I check him, can I ever check your king ? 
 Mark. Lights, and the board ! 
 
 [They begin to play. Duke Audret 
 enters. There is silence, and the sound 
 of the pieces as they are moved. After 
 a while the King laughs. 
 Your knight is gone ! 
 
 [The Queen plays on languidly. After 
 
 making one of her moves, she clasps her 
 
 head with her arms and yawns. Then 
 
 with sudden and sharp animation she 
 
 makes another move. 
 
 YsEULT. Check to your king, my King ! 
 
 Mark. This castle, ah, this castle . . . Were you blind ? 
 
 Lord of Tintagel, to my aid 
 
84 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act i. 
 
 Another magic castle sweeps — safe, safe ! 
 
 [YsEULT again clasps her head round with 
 her arms and yawns. Brangaena 
 rises and listens. 
 The squires outside are noisy. 
 YsEULT. Tis some beggar, 
 
 Or some wild creature in their midst. Ha, ha ! 
 Your cruel squires . . . 
 
 But these are merry games, 
 Where there are shouts ! 
 Cries. Hue ! hue ! Whoop, whoop ! Hue, hue ! 
 YsEULT (rising). Brangaena, listen, 
 
 A hue and cry ! Whoop, whoop ! 
 Mark. It spoils the game. 
 
 Reprove them, Audret. 
 YsEULT. Hark — 
 
 The sound of little bells that jide aloft. 
 Like bubbles on a cataract. 
 Cries. Whoop, whoop ! 
 
 Fool . . . Rap his ears — 
 
 His pate ! 
 Whip him — and soundly ! 
 The bladder-skin, beat out his squeals. 
 
 Hoy, hoy ! 
 Whoop ! whoop ! The clown, the ugly clown ! 
 
 The gipsy ! 
 The solemn otter ! 
 
 Ha, ha, ha ! 
 [A Fool, fighting his way among blows 
 and jeers, is precipitated into the hall. 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LlfeONOIS 85 
 
 The Fool. Protection ! 
 
 Mark. Of the king's sceptre, since the jester's 
 cannot 
 Subdue the people ? 
 
 (To YsEULT.) Here is company, 
 Here your desire. 
 
 Now will the evening speed 
 As Christmas-time . . . 
 
 More lights about the Queen ! 
 Cheer, cheer ! 
 
 A carpet for the fool ! 
 
 A cloak 1 
 His rags will shame us. 
 
 Dignity must wait 
 On such portentous wrinkles . . . 
 
 Not even ocean 
 Digs brown sand in such curves. 
 YsEULT. Ha, ha, I never 
 
 Beheld a thing so laughable. Ha, ha ! 
 He fixes me ! 
 AuDRET. With otter eyes. 
 
 YsEULT. An otter, 
 
 A hunted, old dog-otter ! 
 
 Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Brangaena, this great fool is worth a thousand 
 Of little Monsieur Triolet de France . . . 
 Eyes — but these hunted things have eyes indeed ! 
 Mark. Friend, you are welcome ! 
 The Fool. Sire, 
 
 Noble and good among all kings of earth. 
 
86 TRISTAN DE L^ONOIS [ACT I. 
 
 My heart melts with its tenderness 
 
 Alas, 
 My folly ! Can I run away from tears . . . 
 Or can I fly my folly ? 
 
 [He lays his face on his arm and weeps. 
 With a sudden convulsive movement his 
 hells tinkle ; as if warned, he gets up and 
 makes obeisance. 
 
 God protect you. 
 Good Sire of Cornwall ! 
 
 God protect you, lady ! 
 Mark. Friend, tell us what should bring you to 
 Tintagel ? 
 Truth, fool ! 
 Fool. Yseult the Queen ! 
 
 YsEULT. I — for this hair's sake ? 
 
 [She holds out a glittering fold of her 
 tresses. 
 Fool. Gold of the sun, for that — 
 
 Lords, all must know 
 How I have loved the Queen. 
 
 [Close to Mark, and making the gestures 
 with his hands of one who bargains. 
 
 I have a sister, 
 A beautiful, dark sister, cloaked and hooded 
 In raven hair — wild sloes her blackest eyes. 
 And love a bloom, a dimness on them — love 
 For Mark the King of Cornwall. 
 
 She is named 
 Brunhilda, she is dark and beautiful. 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE L^ONOIS 87 
 
 This golden queen has dazzled you and wearied ; 
 But my Burgundian sister I will barter 
 For your Yseult, out of pure love and duty. 
 Swift ! Make exchange ! 
 
 Yseult. Close with his bargain, Sire 1 
 
 Take Brunhild, give Yseult to the brown fool, 
 That she may count his wrinkles in a month, 
 And his grimaces in a whole year's time. 
 Wife of a Fool — my part ! 
 
 [She laughs. The Fool advances with 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 Mark {laughing bitterly). And if I give her, 
 
 What would you do with her, where take her. 
 Fool? 
 
 The Fool. Yonder between the zenith and the 
 clouds — 
 They for her floor, the blue height for her roof — 
 In that large space through which the sun takes 
 
 air, 
 As in his garden and own solitude, 
 Where are no winds to make their quarrel, thither 
 I will lead up the Queen, and ask the sun 
 Gift of a crystal chamber, walled with roses 
 In tapestry of summer, full of light. 
 When Dawn plays on the crystal and the roses 
 The music of her freshness. 
 
 Mark. My royal lady. 
 
 No singing of my minstrels charmed your ear — 
 So for your punishment a fool turns poet ; 
 And you must hear who clamoured for a fool. 
 
88 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [ACT I. 
 
 YsEULT. Brangaena, in the fields of Ireland often 
 
 We saw that country. 
 Brangaena. O sweet Queen, a country 
 
 We found when the tall grass had buried us 
 
 In spires and clover ... ah ! 
 Mark. The prattling jester. 
 
 He loves his words and decks them bravely out. 
 Cries. Oh, a good fool ! Dwell with us at 
 
 Tintagel ! 
 Mark. Friend, what assurance have you that my 
 lady 
 
 Will follow you up yonder ? You are wizen 
 
 And hideous . . . 
 
 (To the Courtiers.) Look, what see you to com- 
 mend ? 
 YsEULT. His eyes — he plucked them from some sad, 
 wild creature 
 
 Under writhed forest-bark. ... 
 
 [The Fool comes close to her impulsively, 
 Brangaena. Fool, even by your eyes. 
 
 Why should my lady follow ? 
 The Fool. Why ? 
 
 Because I have accomplished for her sake 
 
 Many a labour, many a deed of glory. 
 
 Many a deed of daring, and for her 
 
 I have become a fool ... for her am mad . . . 
 
 A fool ! 
 Mark. Who art thou ? 
 
 The Fool. Tristan, I am Tristan, 
 
 He who so loved the Queen, who loves her yet. 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE L^ONOIS 89 
 
 Who will not cease to love when breath has 
 
 ceased. 
 You know, you all must know that I am Tristan ! 
 [He leads the laugh that runs round the 
 hall. Mark joins in it, glancing wrath- 
 fully at YsEULT, who gives one sigh, as 
 if a viol had been struck ; then, flushing 
 with wrath, starts to her feet. 
 YsEULT. Go, wretched fool, creature of e\dl, go ! 
 Who brought him in ? 
 
 Out from my presence — Mark, 
 Out from your presence send him. 
 Mark. Softly, Queen 1 
 
 You cried aloud for jests — this is the jest. 
 Now be you merry as at Christmastide ! 
 Deny not to the fool his privilege 
 To tongue whatever folly hfts the heart 
 By laughter and derision into ease." 
 With fools we play the fool. 
 The Fool. Do you remember, 
 
 How, dying of the venom that I took 
 From Morhout's sword, I landed on your shore. 
 Faint, with my harp, and how you healed my 
 
 anguish. 
 And healed me into health ? ... Do you re- 
 member, Queen ? 
 YsEULT. Hunt him away — out from my sight with 
 him ! 
 
 [The Fool chases the Nobles and Squires 
 to the door. 
 
90 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act i. 
 
 The Fool. Out of my sight ! 
 
 Dolts, wiseacres, leave me to use my hour 
 With Queen Yseult. I am come to love the 
 
 Queen. 
 Grant me her privacy. 
 
 [The King laughs. Yseult, red with 
 deeper wrath, stamps her foot. 
 Yseult. Sire, hunt him out, 
 
 As he was hunted in. Let him be lashed and torn. 
 Mark. Softly — a woman must not blench from light 
 
 Of drollery and wit. 
 The Fool [more passionately). Queen Yseult, 
 Do you remember, when you laid the splinter, 
 You found in Morhout's skull — your kinsman's 
 
 skull— 
 Against my mutilated sword, and lo. 
 It fitted close and you beheld me Tristan, 
 And raised my sword to kill, but did not kill me ? 
 I was a wondrous knight ! 
 
 Do you remember, Queen ? 
 
 Yseult. Cursed be the mariners of Cornwall, cursed, 
 
 Who brought you to this shore and did not throw 
 
 you 
 To the rolling quiet of mid-sea. My curse ! 
 
 [The whole room is gathered round with 
 strenuous attention, broken every now 
 and then hy a malicious laugh. 
 The Fool. Do you remember. Queen ? . . . 
 
 [Yseult descends the steps of the Throne, 
 taking Brangaena's hand. 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 91 
 
 YsEULT. Teller of tales, 
 
 What is there to remember in vain dreams ? 
 In prattle of delusion ? Yesternight 
 You drank too deep — and it is drunkenness 
 That spins for us these tales. 
 The Fool {with more passionate accents). True ! I 
 am drunk, 
 And of such draught, that never of its frenzy 
 My heart-throbs will be stayed. 
 
 Queen Yseult, 
 Do you forget that noon on the mid-sea, 
 That mid-May noon, so warm and beautiful, 
 When you were thirsty ? Daughter of a King, 
 Do you forget ? We drank from the same 
 
 cup ; 
 We dr^-nk, and ever has the fatal glory 
 Astounded me, as planet-struck. O Queen, 
 Do you not yet remember 
 
 — what we drank ? 
 [Yseult has been leaning on Brangaena 
 and gazing at the Fool with wide, 
 terrified eyes. At his last appeal she 
 hides her head in her mantle and breaks 
 from Brangaena. But the King, 
 holding her ermine cloak, draws her 
 back and seats her again at his side. 
 Mark. Wait, wait, a little, fair, impatient one ! 
 We will set fooUng to another tune ; 
 Or where is our festivity, where Christmas, 
 Where is the red-lit winter ? 
 
92 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act I. 
 
 Fool, your art, 
 Your trade ? 
 The Fool. To serve great kings. 
 Mark. And can you hunt 
 
 With dogs and with gyr-falcons ? 
 Fool. As I will 1 
 
 With traps I capture swans and geese and doves 
 Of the wild-wood ; with harriers in the cloud 
 I run the cranes and herons. [All laugh. 
 
 Mark. When you fish 
 
 What do you draw out of the freshets, brother ? 
 The Fool. Wolves of the night, great wood-bears ; 
 and my falcons 
 Drop goats before me, foxes and specked does ; 
 My hawks run hares to ground : and I can 
 
 brew 
 Herb-broths, and tune the harp and sing in 
 
 tune. 
 I can love queens — defend myself, with staff. 
 As you have seen to-day, and tell you tales. 
 Heigh for my sceptre ! 
 
 It can rouse slow blood. 
 Wake laggards . . . 
 
 Up, ye Cornish Lords, to hunt ! 
 You have already eaten — I have livened 
 Your long repose — Up, men ! . . . 
 
 The bells, the bells, the bells ! 
 Let out your hounds to echo them ! 
 Mark. Brave fool ! 
 
 To hunt — the trail lies well. 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 93 
 
 AuDRET. Sire, as you ride 
 
 I would ride with you and would somewhat 
 say. 
 
 [The Fool noisily drives all out, and 
 descends the steps. 
 Mark. Seek me ! — Yseult, this hour of bitterness 
 You roused, and I in vengeance kept awake, 
 May God forgive ! Let us forgive each other. 
 Seek rest — as I the holy dusk and dew 
 Through which I track the wolf. I am ashamed 
 Your lash could make me heat your cheeks. 
 Forgive ! 
 Yseult. I could not longer 
 Have listened to these follies ; I am weary. 
 I suffer, Mark ! 
 Mark. The evening give you grace, 
 
 Its grace ! 
 Yseult. Farewell, my lord ! 
 
 Mark. Farewell, poor Queen. 
 
 Repose — forget ! We were feasting — we are 
 men. 
 
 [He kisses her brow and turns away. The 
 Fool on the steps, leading down to the 
 passage, watches with lit eyes. As the 
 King passes he leaves the steps, doffs 
 and shows a hare head. 
 Fool, if she call, no more of thy chimeras ; 
 No more that name be mentioned to the Queen. 
 Amuse her with some tale of love — 
 Some debonair, gay plot. Serve me. 
 
94 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act I. 
 
 The Fool (kissing his hand to the King). Hunt first ! 
 [The King and his following go out. 
 Suddenly the Fool, covering his face 
 with his hands, sinks a heap on the 
 steps of the great hall that descends into 
 the passage. Yseult is in Bran- 
 gaena's arms. 
 Yseult. Why was I bom ? It is a bitter thing 
 When Hfe is dust and ashes and yet Hves 
 Beheld and laughed across. 
 
 Would this veil were 
 The stirless pall of death, laid over, over ! 
 There was — where is he . . . 
 That fool, wry monster, twisted in a cross ? 
 Brangaena, in ill-hour he came within : 
 He is a mage, enchanter, divinator : 
 He knows what you and I and — Tristan only 
 Can know ; by magic and by lot he knows. 
 I am undone. I perish . . . fall in ruins ! 
 Brangaena. O loved, but if 
 
 It should in truth be Tristan . . . 
 Yseult. Tristan — that ! 
 
 He has a brow the light makes shadow on, 
 And hair as ruddy and as full of leaf 
 As beech-leaves when they crisp and cling in frost. 
 This counterfeit of devils, 
 This hideous creature, Tristan ! 
 
 But God curse him ; 
 Cursed be the hour that he was bom, and cursed 
 The ship that sailed him nor with warping timbers 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 95 
 
 Could draw him to these salt depths where the 
 
 cup 
 Of my enchantment rolls ! 
 Brangaena. The mad magician 
 
 May be a chosen messenger from Tristan. 
 YsEULT. From Tristan who has blabbed, and told 
 what noon 
 Covered in cloth of gold, as a great harp 
 Is covered from corrosion. Vile the lips 
 That chirp what the great covered harp withholds ! 
 Brangaena. Perchance to win your credence, 
 
 Secrets are told 
 
 YsEULT. I do not think as you. 
 
 Nothing reminded me of life, no pressure 
 Or storm of the olden ages drove upon me ; 
 Nothing but wonder like the pain of death. 
 
 [She groans repeatedly. 
 But find him — learn if any recollection 
 Leap in you as you question him. 
 
 [Hearing voices the Fool has raised his 
 head, and listens with a face full of 
 despair ; as Brangaena comes down 
 the steps to him, he drops his staff and 
 hells, that roll down the steps, tinkling 
 faerily. 
 The Fool. Brangaena, 
 
 Brangaena, frank, adored, Brangaena, listen ; 
 Pity me, by the love of God ! 
 Brangaena {seized with panic). What fiend 
 Taught you my name — a hell-burnt, hideous fool ? 
 
96 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act I. 
 
 The Fool. Long have I known it. By my head 
 once ruddy, 
 Unless my reason with my hair was sheared, 
 Tis you who are the cause of all my sorrow. 
 Through you I am a madman and a fool. 
 Was it not you that failed to guard the philtre 
 I drank upon the sea, that Yseult tasted. 
 That was her mother's bride-gift to King 
 
 Mark? 
 Yseult, my life, my death — you gave us wine 
 Of love to drink — then gave yourself a victim, 
 A sacrifice vowed to atone your crime. 
 Do you no more remember ? 
 
 [He has risen up and sets Ms eyes on her 
 hurningly, 
 Brangaena {with a shriek of terror). No ! 
 
 [She turns and runs up the steps. He 
 follows her precipitately. 
 The Fool. Have pity, pity ! 
 
 Yseult— 
 
 [He finds himself facing Yseult. Bran- 
 gaena falls at her feet, hiding her face. 
 He opens his arms wide, as if to clasp 
 the Queen to his breast ; hut, shamefaced 
 and wrung with agony, she recoils. He 
 trembles and retreats towards the wall by 
 the door, against which he supports 
 himself. 
 
 I have lived too long ! Yseult 
 denies me — 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 97 
 
 Rejects me, scorns to love me, deems me vile. 
 She hears not, feels not, as the blind, who know 
 The flower by scent, the flower by touch ; who 
 
 know 
 The stranger by his breathing, and the friend 
 By the familiar breathing, as a power 
 Of the air coming forward. 
 
 Ah, the blind 
 Are fearless ; ah, the blind 
 Are sure — Yseult rejects me ! 
 
 [He advances again. 
 If you loved — 
 Yseult (creeping near him) . I doubt ; I cannot 
 
 teU . . . 
 I do not know you, Tristan. 
 The Fool. Queen Yseult, 
 
 I am Tristan — he that has so loved you. Queen ! 
 (With new energy.) Do you remember the false 
 
 chamberlain 
 Snowed flour between my bed and the King's 
 
 couch, 
 A lance-length severed, where you lay alone, 
 And the lance-length I leapt — our hearts were 
 
 joined : 
 But my fresh wound burst sudden, bled its drops 
 Upon your sheet, upon the mealy boards, 
 Betraying us to death ! 
 Yseult (she draws near, fascinated). And Tristan 
 
 pleaded 
 On his proud knees for me . . . His face was level 
 
 G 
 
98 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act i. 
 
 As a white river to the King's hard gaze, 
 While Httle waves of anguish moved his lips. . . . 
 The Fool. And then the King 
 Repented him of fire as instrument 
 To punish your offence and cast you forth 
 Among his lepers ? . . . Nay, forget, forget ! 
 Let me not see that memory on your face . . . 
 Think how you laid your head upon my body — 
 Your golden head, and I its pillow — 
 i The evening I had rescued you. Forget 
 
 The unbearable ! . . . 
 
 YsEULT. That Tristan took a wife. 
 
 The Fool. Virgin she is, God pardon me ! This 
 
 ring 
 
 Fell to the ground upon my marriage-night. . . . 
 
 YsEULT. The ring — the ring of jasper, the green ring ! 
 
 [She opens her arms wide. 
 Thine ! Take me, Tristan ! 
 
 [He enfolds her silently — then, after a 
 
 while he speaks in his own natural 
 
 voice, with uncontorted face, beautiful 
 
 under its dark stain. 
 
 Tristan. Love, what of the ring ? 
 
 A dog — old Husdent — 
 
 Had known me of his instinct ; but a semblance 
 Checked you . . . ah, woman, woman ! . . . and 
 
 a ring 
 Contents your unbelief, a bare, green stone. 
 YsEULT. It may be all enchantment, all illusion ; 
 But by my vow that when I saw this ring. 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 99 
 
 Though it should lose me, all that you commanded 
 Of wisdom or of folly should be done — 
 On my soul's faith, if this be wise or foolish — 
 You see me — take me, Tristan ! 
 
 [She falls in swoon on his breast. He 
 kisses her eyes and her face, till she 
 revives and smiles to his smile. 
 Tristan. Not to know 
 
 Love in his very person ! If the god 
 Of heaven comes as the lightning, as a Fool 
 Comes the great Lord of Jove. After wild Love 
 Men raise their hue and cry. He fills the ears 
 Of the beloved with eddies, with the sound 
 Of love as of a sea that tosses wrecks, 
 Where all is madness : and he comes half-white. 
 Half-black, with jangling pulses, all the air 
 And every current surging to the throb 
 Of frenzied bells — and when he looks like hatred 
 He is most Love, most god-like ; when despised. 
 He thinks of the old spheres he tuned at first, 
 That are the worlds. 
 
 Have you wept for me, Yseult ? 
 I have not wept ; I sicken 
 And waste away. My death is very near ; 
 I shall not come again, 
 
 A nightingale 
 I drew you, after parting, to the orchard ; 
 My anguish, like a thread, guided your steps 
 To our trysting-fir. 
 
 Then for three years I wandered ; 
 
lOO TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act i. 
 
 The earth around was silent ; you were silent. 
 I feigned myself a leper. You had listened 
 To tales that I had fled an enemy, 
 Conjured to stand in your all-hallowed name — 
 And when I asked you alms, beneath the leper 
 You saw me and refused me, and at last 
 Broke in a laugh that shattered me as levin 
 The doomed hearth it has struck. 
 
 YsEULT. That laugh ! O Tristan, 
 
 Within the church I fell upon the pavement, 
 My arms cross-stretched. 
 
 Tristan. You knew me as the bird 
 
 Of love ; you knew me as the death-in-life 
 Of love, even as a leper. When I came 
 For the last time, a Fool, you gave no sign. 
 
 YsEULT. I kept my vow of love — the ring, the ring ! 
 To you, O Love. . . . 
 
 Tristan. I promised on saints' bones, 
 
 Laid on God's shrine, your father and your mother. 
 That loyally I would bear you over sea 
 To Mark of Cornwall . . . and that oath was vain. 
 This Uttle ring has held. 
 
 YsEULT {in a low breath) . A virgin still ! 
 She is not wife — ah ! 
 
 [She lets her breath pass freely. 
 Strain me to your heart, 
 And let our hearts be broken in their mould, 
 And we be joined for ever. Lead me, Tristan, 
 Away, away to the Islands of the Blest, 
 To the coimtry where the song is never ended 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS lOi 
 
 That mightiest poets dream, from which no sighs 
 Return, where we shall be. Do you remember — 
 It was your promise when the sparrows twittered, 
 And when the wall Of air broke down with dawn, 
 And Tristan in the orchard from Yseult 
 Was driven away ? 
 
 Tristan. I said it was no sim 
 
 That lighted the alternate blocks of blue 
 And grey that build Tintagel. 
 
 Yseult. Tristan, Tristan ! 
 
 No more to part ! 
 
 Tristan. I soon will hold my promise. 
 
 Have we not drunk all joy, all misery ? 
 The cup is nearly void, the time approaches 
 When this deep prophecy within my spirit 
 Comes to its term ; and when I call, Yseult, 
 Will you be ready ? Will you come, Yseult ? 
 
 Yseult. Tristan, my faith ! You know that I shall 
 come. 
 Your hands, your hands — the ring ! 
 
 Tristan. Your tremulous lips, 
 
 Dearer than any faith a ring can plight ! 
 
 Yseult. Your eyes — what sorrow 
 And yet content — their love is so entire ! 
 You never seemed to look at anything 
 Save me you held within them. But your hair. 
 My glory — gone, gone ! 
 
 Tristan. Paid away — red gold 
 
 To buy this moment. 
 
 Yseult. And your paleness covered. . . . 
 
102 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act I. 
 
 Tristan. A gipsy stain for this mad wayfaring. 
 YsEULT. Tristan, your voice — its nearness ! Very 
 far 
 Are other voices. I could sob with wonder 
 To have beside my ear dehciousness 
 Of such warm shock. . . . To-night, to-night be 
 ours ! 
 Tristan. Ah, if to-night . . . one parts more utterly 
 If one must part at dawn. 
 
 Death, death, death ! 
 To drink the very soul in her, then part — 
 Better the jangled bells of folly, better 
 A jester's laugh ! Alas, for us ! 
 Brangaena [who has been watching by the door, 
 throws up her arms). The King ! 
 
 Mark enters with his following, Audret at 
 his side 
 
 Audret. You see — they sever ! 
 
 Here is the proof. My life on this disguise. 
 He is no Fool. 
 
 [Tristan throws back his hood, shows his 
 shaved head and contorted features, 
 Tristan. Old Fool, I am no Fool ! 
 
 I am Sir Tristan, Tristan de Leonois. 
 The Queen has heard my suit. She is a gentle. 
 Fond Queen ! Fair Lords, to-night I shall embrace 
 
 her. 
 Do you not know she loves me ? Ha, ha, ha I 
 Sir King, I thank you . . . Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
ACT I.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 103 
 
 Mark. Arrest him ! 
 
 He shall be punished for this insolence. 
 I bade him never more to name that name. 
 Tristan (springing through them as they advance to 
 lay hands on him) . She named the name, not I. 
 Fair Lords, you chase me ; 
 Fair King, you would condemn me to the lash — 
 Why, why ? I tell you she is won. To-night 
 I shall embrace her, and I go 
 Far, far away to set in readiness 
 The glassy house that I have promised her, 
 The roses, red as blood against the sun, 
 The crystal kindling. 
 Mark. Hunt him from the castle ! 
 
 He is a Fool indeed, but to our service 
 Intractable. 
 Cries. Hoy, hoy ! Hue, hue ! Whoop, whoop ! 
 Whoop and away. Hue, hue ! 
 
 [Tristan leaps down the steps, snatches 
 
 up his staff to defend himself, rings his 
 
 hells, and points upward. 
 
 Tristan. She follows me between the sky and clouds. 
 
 \The Squires draw hack from his hlows 
 
 and hegin to laugh : he joins their 
 
 laughter. Without haste, and kissing 
 
 his hand hack to them, he dances off. 
 
 Mark [to Yseult). What is this Fool — what did he 
 
 say ? 
 Yseult. He dances- 
 
 Look, dances still . . . What is he ? O my lord, 
 
104 TRISTAN DE L:6oNOIS [act i. 
 
 I cannot tell ... So hideous and so gay ! 
 Marc, in an evil hour he came to us. 
 My head ... oh, weary, aching ! . . . 
 I have heard follies and am dazed. I know 
 not. . . , 
 Mark. Brangaena, help! We will support the 
 Queen, 
 And you shall couch her. 
 
 Let no sound be made ! 
 No sound within the castle ! . . . Hush ! 
 
 [The laughter ceases near and then far. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 105 
 
 ACT II 
 Scene 
 
 A vessel on the sea. 
 
 Queen Yseult la Belle and Sir Kaherdin; 
 sailors moving about. The Queen is in hunting 
 green — a falcon on her wrist, 
 
 Yseult. O the wild sea ! 
 
 How like a misty juggler is the sea — 
 
 Such transformations ! Glass of deepest dew 
 
 For days, now wild and grievous. 
 
 Look, Sir Kaherdin ! 
 A dusky cloud, 
 
 With dusk below on ocean, like a nest 
 Deserted by a riding bird ! What strangeness. 
 What mischief and what strangeness ! 
 While little, deadly scuds wander the wind. 
 The adamantine wind. 
 
 What wild adventure, 
 From the wild instant in the casement-light. 
 When, at Tintagel, as a ring of Tours, 
 You sparkled on me my own jasper ring. 
 With whisper of command, and I a promise, 
 
io6 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act ii. 
 
 To journey to Sir Tristan ! . . . Wild the morning 
 
 I flew my falcon and she blocked 
 
 High on your mast, her mistress seeking her ! 
 
 Sir Kaherdin, 
 
 I flew my falcon to your ship and I 
 
 Followed my falcon's flight. 
 
 Simply because this ring was planted green 
 
 Upon my hand and on this ring my oath. 
 
 You are a stranger to me. 
 Kaherdin. fair Queen, 
 
 I carried on my hand your jasper ring, 
 
 Across this flood of sea ; 
 
 And my great friend, Sir Tristan, slipped it 
 there. 
 
 With story of his sorrow, 
 
 Murmured to tears I would not watch. Unsay 
 
 I am a stranger — but a friending stranger. 
 
 If you are bent to have me strange — your squire 
 
 And servant. 
 YsEULT [after a brooding silence). By what right, Sir 
 Kaherdin, 
 
 When I ascended to your ship with escort 
 
 Of the Duke Audret, did you shift the plank, 
 
 When I was safe, and plunge him in the sea ? 
 Kaherdin. Whew ! By what right ? 
 
 The right to kill Sir Tristan's enemy. 
 
 The man was feasting-fellow. 
 
 And counsellor and creature to King Mark : 
 
 Simply as I should kill a bird 
 
 Injurious to a country-side. And joy 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 107 
 
 It was to me to bring him down. What right ? 
 The right I have to carry you away, 
 To bear you over sea — 
 Love's right ! 
 
 [He moves away and looks over the sea. 
 His Captain joins him, and they talk 
 together anxiously. 
 YsEULT. Why then I am a captive — and of Love ! 
 I thought I was in freedom and to have 
 My will, my love's accomplishing, my pleasure, 
 As in some distant fairyland. I took 
 This ring, I asked no question. Haughtily 
 I swept down from Tintagel, in my garb 
 A huntress, and Duke Audret smiled at me. 
 And said the King would joy of my fresh 
 
 colour. 
 I am here, still in huntress's dress, though royal : 
 I am here and for my prey. 
 
 [She looses her falcon on a sea-bird. 
 Who-whoop ! Begone ! 
 Kaherdin (running to her). Queen, Queen ! . . . Too 
 late, the seagull is struck down : 
 There is blood upon the waves ! 
 
 These lowering skies 
 Already fright the crew . . . now this omen ! 
 Pray God the sailors do not mark the stain 1 
 This sport is deadly. 
 YsEULT. Ah, she scorns the flesh ! 
 
 Why lo, why lo ! What, Destiny, my merlin. 
 What, Destiny ! [The falcon comes to her fist. 
 
io8 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [ACT ii. 
 
 Kaherdin. Queen, is it only sport 
 
 That we are bound on ? Have you no compas- 
 sion ? 
 YsEULT. There has been blood upon the waves 
 before, 
 
 Duke Audret's blood : then you had no com- 
 passion ; 
 
 You did not mark the stain . . . 
 
 There, take my falcon, take her, 
 
 Destroy her . . . Let her not be captive — there ! 
 
 Let her not fail of her desire . . . 
 
 [She sobs over the bird and resigns it to 
 Sir Kaherdin, waving him from her. 
 
 How wet the rain is on my cheek ! 
 
 How I am left alone ! . . . 
 
 Like this I was led forth, 
 
 A captive to King Mark ; my Ireland left 
 
 Behind me, all I loved — my still-room, my long 
 halls. 
 
 My free-lipped people, my fond mother left 
 
 Behind. For me no more green land, no 
 more 
 
 Honour and youth ! I found myself a captive, 
 
 Snared on the sea and destined 
 
 Then for King Mark, as now for Tristan — destined ! 
 
 And now again a ship, and now the sea ! 
 
 [She gazes out on the water. 
 
 How great the sea is, and how full of rumours ! 
 
 How greater is the sea grown suddenly ! 
 
 I am alone, and out of all this water. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 109 
 
 And out of all this cloud, 
 
 I hear a tempest puling at its birth. 
 
 Brangaena ! 
 
 [There is no reply. Boatswain's voice rings out. 
 Boatswain. Tempest ! Braid up them sails, 
 
 Strike topmast to the cap ! 
 YsEULT. Tempest ! I am alone. What could Bran- 
 gaena 
 Do for me in these heavens ? 
 
 O Tristan, Tristan, 
 I am alone ! 
 
 And we must be together on the sea ! 
 Kaherdin [afar). The furrow of the vessel is a 
 torrent, 
 A whirlpool . . . Save the boat, hitch her 
 
 aboard, 
 Over the poop ! [He passes out of sight. 
 
 Sailors. A'heigh, a'heigh, a'heigh ! 
 There is no boat. 
 The ropes slide in — no boat ! 
 She is mid the waves. 
 She is under them. 
 She is lost. 
 Other Sailors. A hungering sea ! 
 What drip 
 
 Of the naked feet of surges as they rush 
 Across our planks. 
 This rain, this wind — this death ! 
 Our shrouds are almost broke and 
 blown away. 
 
no TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act ii. 
 
 Starboard ! Take heed ! 
 Starboard — so-ho ! 
 Be damned or help us ! 
 Peace ! God bless the man ! 
 Captain's Voice. Hold — keep her thus. Hold 
 there ! 
 A hand, my boys !' Lash sure the helm 
 
 a'lee ; 
 We can no more ! Make fast and let her 
 
 drive ; 
 Let her lie under seas and let her drive ! 
 
 [The storm closes down, 
 YsEULT. But this is like a charm — 
 
 I stand as fearless as in Africa 
 Among my lions ... I have stood thus in 
 
 childhood 
 Quite solitary when the nights were dark. 
 I call these elements about me softly. 
 As softly as a wizard . . . They are curds ! 
 I crush them in my hands. 
 Voices. We sink, we are lost for ever. 
 We are dead men. 
 Our light is out. 
 Blessed and Sacred Lady, 
 Pray our dear Lord ! 
 In Manus ... 
 Save ! 
 
 The current washes us. Alas ! We drown. 
 [Kaherdin tears through the veil of wind 
 and rain. He lashes her to a mast. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS in 
 
 Kaherdin. Queen, for your life ... for his ! 
 
 [He is driven away by the hurricane 
 toward the spot where the Captain and 
 some sailors are trying to save a man, 
 who has just been swept over. 
 YsEULT. It makes no change — 
 
 Only, now they have bound me, I look forth 
 On all that I have suffered as on spots, 
 And cities in a landscape. Tristan, Tristan, 
 I see thee as we parted on the edge 
 Of the forest and you led 
 My palfrey, and you held 
 The bridle ready in your hand to yield it 
 Back to King Mark. We parted from the forest, 
 Tristan, for what ? For cold and poverty, 
 For cold and hunger, as two peasants might : 
 The tempest was too strong for us, the wind 
 Blew through your ragged cloak — you lit a fire 
 Sometimes in the mid-forest and sat down, 
 And stared at it and dreamed as a dull hunter 
 By any winter hearth ! 
 
 . . . Here is a fire. 
 [She catches at the lightning. 
 An arrow and a momentary lamp ! 
 Here are the winds — 
 
 And here in some sharp crevice of my heart 
 Is Tristan . . . now indeed I am enchantress, 
 And hold him to me, as I hold the wind ; 
 And do not caU upon his name, but hold him 
 At pleasure, at my pleasure, in a niche — 
 
112 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act il. 
 
 Or chase him as a fowler for my pleasure. 
 
 O wind of fire ! 
 
 Tristan, no more in a far country — now 
 
 Swept inward on my heart, and we together, 
 
 Deaf to all noise, at the still roots of fire, 
 
 Where they branch living up, at the mid 
 
 core 
 Of whirlwind, where the winds are intercoiled 
 To break forth to their quarter ! Wind of fire 1 
 [Brangaena is revealed in a cleft of light. 
 Brangaena. What is this singing through the wind ? 
 {A clear laugh is heard.) Where is she ? 
 YsEULT. No eagle rides so high ; 
 
 No moon so fast flees through the clouds ; 
 Tristan, no little leaf upon the stream 
 Voyages on so buoyantly — the wind 
 Couches me on her plumes . . . This travelling 
 Is of Love's very pace. wind of fire ! 
 Brangaena. I have not heard her voice so jubilant 
 Since she sang free across the Irish lakes. 
 
 [Kaherdin, driven against her by the 
 
 wind, touches her ear with his lips. 
 
 Kaherdin. The wheel still stands . . . Three men 
 
 are overboard. [He is blown from her, 
 
 Brangaena. Each quite alone in the tides, then at 
 
 the base 
 
 Of the fathoms, still alone ! And she must 
 
 die 
 In these waters — these deep graves ; go down to 
 death ! 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 113 
 
 {To YsEULT.) loved, you will not reach the 
 
 shore — desist ! 
 The sea will overtake us . . . how it runs ! 
 The lightning — hoh ! — will drink our life ! 
 You will not reach Sir Tristan ; never more 
 Will you look upon his face. 
 YsEULT. Brangaena ! Close, 
 
 Knot yourself in my arms ! . . . 
 
 [They clasp : Yseult strokes Bran- 
 gaena' s head. 
 
 These voyages 
 Are very prosperous. You brought me fortune 
 On that dear voyage. I had drunk with Mark, 
 Except you had been faithless in your charge. 
 And on your bed-shelf laid the little phial : 
 But I have drunk with Tristan. Every breath 
 That I would breathe again — all of my years 
 That is not with the dust is of your sweet 
 And reckless error. 
 
 Cleave to me, beloved, 
 Adventure with me ! 
 Brangaena. Pray ! We are near death. 
 
 Let me not lose you . . . Pray ! 
 Yseult {shaking her head). I had drunk with Mark, 
 
 Save for your error : I have drunk with Tristan. 
 Brangaena. Consider but the moment. Loved, 
 the corpses 
 Are washing past . . . See, see ! 
 Yseult. The storm has sundered wide away. How 
 light 
 
 H 
 
114 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act ii. 
 
 They wash upon the waves ! 
 
 I am cut sharp, 
 . These ropes against my heart . . . 
 
 Brangaena, go, 
 
 Fetch me Sir Kaherdin, for the great wind 
 
 Is folding up its pinions, for the sky 
 
 Is massing thunderous . . . 
 
 The sun is scorching, and I feel the knots. 
 
 [Brangaena leaves her. 
 
 Am I deserted ? 
 
 My envoys fled ? This silence has no clefts 
 
 For the rock-pigeons . . . Brittany in sight. 
 
 So close at hand, so close — a monument 
 
 It looks — and I would sail away from it : 
 
 A foreign shore ; the ships 
 
 Are painted different, like flowers 
 
 Of another country. This is not the land 
 
 He promised me. Alack, I am the fool. 
 
 And what now is my errand ? O Tintagel, 
 
 It is a tame, low coast. What do I here, 
 
 And here in majesty ? Let them not dream — 
 
 Not dream . . . 
 
 I will not take the buffets of his Court. 
 
 I . . . O my fool ! 
 
 [Kaherdin approaches with Brangaena. 
 
 Kaherdin (at a distance to the sailors). Clear down 
 
 the decks, set south our wheel . . . Unroll 
 
 Our snowy sails to daylight ! Wide their wings ! 
 [Joyously approaching Yseult. 
 
 We have sighted land. ... 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 115 
 
 YsEULT. I am writhed, I cannot stir — 
 
 Oh, swift ! Unknot the cords. 
 Kaherdin {dazzled hy her beauty). Or shall I leave 
 you bound, my Sovereign Huntress, 
 And so deliver you to Tristan — heigh ? 
 You loosed the storm ; you have cost many 
 
 lives . . . 
 Shall I unknot you ? [He looks up at her. 
 
 YsEULT [straining from the cords). But who is it 
 
 speaks ? 
 Kaherdin [hastily unknotting the cord). What can it 
 matter, 
 My sorrow — who I am ! Has the rope 
 
 jarred ? 
 The little smart will heal ... I shall present 
 
 you 
 Safe to Sir Tristan — and so beautiful ! . . . 
 The rain has scarcely dashed your dress. Your 
 
 falcon 
 Is cherished for you. . . . Shall I fetch your 
 
 falcon ? 
 I did not listen to your cruel word 
 Let her not jail of her desire. She shall not ! 
 Nor shall lord Tristan fail of his desire. 
 Yseult. Who are you ? Tristan's friend ? 
 
 But I have never heard him name your 
 name. 
 Kaherdin. Nor had he uttered yours until the 
 morning 
 I stepped aboard my vessel. 
 
ii6 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act ii. 
 
 ... I have knowledge 
 Of many things that you must overcome. 
 There is no welcome for you on our shores ; 
 My father had no knowledge of my sailing — 
 Yonder is Carhaix — underneath that cloud 
 Sir Tristan lies. There are so many things , . . 
 If you can put them all away and voyage 
 To Brittany, as I sailed to Tintagel, 
 It will be nothing, when you see Yseult — 
 Nothing. 
 Yseult. Yseult ? There is but one Yseult. 
 Kaherdin. O Queen, there is Yseult of the White 
 
 Hands — 
 Nothing ! My sister — that is nothing too . . . 
 I gave that up in my great love for Tristan : 
 But she is fast his wife. . . . 
 Yseult {after a long pondering). I do not think I can 
 
 touch land again. 
 And very certainly I cannot live 
 In any ceiled house, in any palace. 
 Bear him down to me, we will take him in, 
 And we will give him tendance on the seas. 
 Kaherdin. No, lady, we must do Sir Tristan's 
 
 will. 
 He is our Prince ; my father is beside 
 
 him. 
 My sister by him — 
 
 We cannot banish these. No, you must climb 
 The steep, and then the stairs, and face the 
 
 crowd. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 117 
 
 And bear the whispers of the crowd, and 
 
 bear 
 My sister's face. [Yseult considers. 
 
 YsEULT. Then there must be procession, 
 
 And singing through the streets. I shall come 
 
 royal 
 To visit him in state. 
 Kaherdin. But he is dying. 
 
 We do not think of you and of your state ; 
 We only think of Tristan, we so love him, 
 We cannot let him die — 
 We cannot bear to hear him moan. O lady, 
 Slow in compassion, will you let him die ? 
 Yseult {rocking in anguish). Melt me ; you do not 
 
 melt ! 
 I have not left my state of sovereignty. 
 And my great honour as a queen, nor left 
 King Mark, my husband, nor have I deserted 
 Tintagel, nor have broken with my own 
 Bitter and sweet captivity, nor made 
 My throne a hollow place, that I should heal 
 One who is but impatient of his pain. 
 
 [She turns away and looks out. 
 The sun is sudden bright ... I see 
 Something that shines out hard ; it does not 
 
 stir. 
 Does not grow nearer ; it remains a speck. 
 (Turning back.) What is it ? 
 
 [Kaherdin at a sign from the Sailors has 
 left her side and is speaking with them. 
 
Ii8 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act ii. 
 
 [YsEULT takes Brangaena's hand in 
 hers and leans her other hand on the 
 wrist of the hand she has grasped. 
 
 Now I see that little speck, 
 And note the tiny dottings on the shore, 
 I recollect how I have left Tintagel, 
 And the wide breasts of the heaving sea, to 
 
 sit 
 Beside his bed — and presently 
 When he is healed, depart ; for I will give him 
 The things he asks for . . . But my feet are 
 
 held 
 Back at the heel : I cannot land, I cannot 
 Be so acclaimed — 
 
 We will sweep past the coast, 
 Until the ship shall enter its own kingdom, 
 And haven of itself. I cannot land ! 
 
 \To Kaherdin, who approaches. 
 Sir Kaherdin, you must put back the ship. 
 Kaherdin. No more commands ! I cannot serve 
 you more. 
 The sails hang to the masts ; 
 And we are strait becalmed. Will this not melt 
 
 you ? 
 He is dying, our great Tristan, dying, 
 And yet he cannot die. 
 And yet he will remain without your face. 
 
 [She takes the sail and wrings it in her 
 hands : then speaks, as if possessed, and 
 with the actions of a mime. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 119 
 
 YsEULT. There are so many ways ! Not come to 
 you! 
 But I will surely come to you in sleep, 
 And move about the room. . . . Not tend on 
 
 you! 
 I have seen you thus before. What, hide from 
 
 me? 
 You were worse-featured, as a fool, a leper, 
 My sunken One ! 
 There, there ! I will not look . . . The fire is 
 
 dead ; 
 You must have warmth. 
 
 [She kneels as if with faggots in her hand. 
 Tristan, I let my mother 
 Nurse you before. I was as green, young wood, 
 - Ill-furnished . . . and I let my mother nurse 
 you ! 
 But I am shaking now with jealousy. 
 Yseult's Yseult — Yea, I am Queen Yseult — 
 
 [She rises. 
 My raiment rustles soft. Tristan, but this 
 Is sweeter magic than the cup. You bless me ? 
 You must not — that must be when you are healed. 
 (Shrinking). Yes, presently 
 I look into your hurt . . . not so impatient. 
 So anxious ! You must let me raise your 
 
 head. 
 Now you must drink. Beloved . . . 
 
 [She falls back into Brangaena's arms 
 with a shrill cry. 
 
120 TRISTAN DE L:^0N0IS [act ii. 
 
 Brangaena. Is it a vision ? 
 
 YsEULT. No, no ! He may be dreaming and in 
 dreams 
 I must be talking to him ... It retires ! 
 Mute is the darkness, but more mute the sim. 
 I cannot labour to him any more. 
 Kaherdin. The whiteness of her mouth, her face ! 
 Brangaena, 
 Wine for your mistress. 
 YsEULT. I will drink no wine ! 
 
 She dare not brifig me wine upon the sea ; 
 She dare not with her woman's hands approach 
 Mine with the cup. [Brangaena trembles. 
 
 Kaherdin. Queen, Queen, but you will faint. 
 
 YsEULT. I shall not faint. 
 
 [Raising herself heavily and looking round 
 on the blue spaces. 
 Think of the draught ; think of that summer 
 
 sea, 
 The summits of the sea ! 
 
 Look yonder ! In no foam a porpoise rolls . . . 
 [Pressing to the side of the vessel. 
 Tristan had turned 
 Away from me, dumb in the over-measure 
 And the extravagance of his desire, 
 Having drained the magic draught . . . 
 
 I followed him . . . 
 How should I ? Drawn on forward, as a tide. 
 He heard me . . . and I heard my steps . . . 
 
 [She laughs as if she were alone. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE L:^0N0IS 121 
 
 Beyond 
 The bay a porpoise rolled for the sun's joy. 
 As still a noon as this — the elements 
 So wreathed together, as before us now, 
 And the still sea that beat up as a sun. 
 Brangaena, you 
 
 Cast down the cup into a void like this, 
 Into low, breezeless sea ! 
 Brangaena. Peace, peace ! 
 
 Turn from the blaze, kneel down with me and pray. 
 YsEULT. Brangaena, in a calm ? . . . 
 
 This moves me you can pray. 
 
 [She gazes out on the water. 
 Power of the Sea ! 
 It is a wall against me. Far away 
 Is Tristan, for a calm divides far more 
 Than leagues of air — 
 I shall not move to him, till, as a chapel 
 Wafted of angels, I am slided down 
 To lay my tomb beside him, in his tomb. 
 
 [She moves down the vessel, looking in 
 
 the water : Kaherdin follows her 
 
 anxiously. Brangaena kneels and 
 
 frays. 
 
 The ocean only of its movement heaves. 
 
 Not onward to the shore . . . We must take 
 
 temper 
 Of our condition, show its loveliness. 
 Who are within the firmament as spirits 
 Within a pearl . . . 
 
122 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act li. 
 
 (With low laughter.) We must beguile the time. 
 
 [Turning and speaking shrilly in Kaher- 
 din's ear. 
 Speak to me of Sir Tristan. He was young 
 When first my mother tended him, his hair 
 Deep as a bud is deeper than the flower : 
 His beauty startled me. 
 
 Is his hair grown again, 
 The beautiful, deep russet, deepening hair ? 
 
 [Kaherdin weeps. She lays her hand on 
 his shoulder. 
 You know he travelled to me as a fool ; 
 And once he travelled to me as a leper : 
 These images are blocked against the sun. 
 Have mercy on me, Kaherdin ! 
 Kaherdin. Behold ! 
 
 The sea is as a web we cannot pierce : 
 There is no comfort there, no mercy there. 
 But what of that ? 
 
 For he is white and blemished as a leper. 
 For he is wild and crazy as a fool ; 
 And, if the calm should break, he would affright 
 
 you 
 With his wild looks. His hair is colourless. 
 Is dead, his visage 
 Measled with venom. Queen, you would not 
 
 know him — 
 How should you, if you think but of his beauty ? 
 [YsEULT wrings her hands and turns from 
 Kaherdin. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 123 
 
 YsEULT. . . . We must beguile the time. 
 
 [She retraces her steps and disturbs 
 Brangaena at her prayer. 
 
 Tell me, Brangaena, of the roots you plucked . . . 
 
 He is wasted ; Kaherdin 
 
 Tells me he is sore-wasted. As a bird 
 
 Beating about my head I take this knowledge. 
 
 . . . You see the vessel 
 
 Stands still for ever. Let me hear the charms. 
 Brangaena. Loved, wherefore ? But the roots I 
 have forgotten. 
 
 I am so sleepy. Is it for my torture 
 
 You question me ? 
 YsEULT. The roots, the squeahng mandrake — 
 
 It must be painted all upon your brain. 
 
 . . . You see the vessel 
 
 Stands still forever. Let me hear the charms, 
 
 The incantations — sing to me some snatches 
 
 Of the invocation, of the stirring-tune, 
 
 The benison. Remember 
 
 You were preparing for my wedding-night. 
 
 Did you not laugh and jest and kiss together ? 
 
 I thirst as a parched honeycomb — 
 
 The little, ribald rhymes, the lullabies. 
 
 The couplets, the forbidding ! Queen Yseult, 
 
 How looked she on that day ? 
 
 A child, I heard 
 
 Your footsteps plodding in the upper room, 
 
 And roused and fed my dogs. 
 Brangaena. A child. Let be ! 
 
124 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [ACT II. 
 
 YsEULT. I had no waking 
 
 From childhood and no waking into love ; 
 
 It was all thrust on me. 
 Brangaena. Your lady-mother 
 
 Was clad that day in a deep brown, with spots 
 
 And currents in the web. 
 YsEULT. But of the philtre ! 
 
 Was there no burthen to the ritual, 
 
 Among the spurting juices 
 
 Of the alembic and the magic wheel — 
 
 No music for the shredding of the herbs ? 
 Brangaena. Your mother did not sing. 
 YsEULT. The deep-brown robe, 
 
 No music ? [She sighs deeply, 
 
 Brangaena. . . . Stay, there was 
 
 A music : I can give it you no more 
 
 Than the smell, the fresh smell of the herbs and 
 flowers 
 
 As they were bruised that day . . . There is a 
 music 
 
 Comes from the pain, 
 
 As it were startled and escaped. ... 
 YsEULT. No pain ! 
 
 [She looks down more wistfully into the 
 water. 
 
 Enumerate the flowers. 
 
 The flowers, the spices. Did you pluck the flowers ? 
 
 Tell me their names, 
 
 And how the sweet brew thickened from the cast, 
 
 And drenched leaves. 
 
ACT II.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 125 
 
 Brangaena. No, no ! I am too old, 
 
 And all that I remember of that day 
 
 Is that I pledged my faith. I cannot choose . . . 
 
 Yet, if I must — She bade me fetch sea-holly, 
 
 With poppies of the sand. 
 
 It was a marvel 
 
 To see her nip the little seeds and count them, 
 
 The innumerous, eyed seeds, and count them over 
 
 As clean as they were pearls. 
 YsEULT. You are smiling — ha ! 
 
 At last a smile ! 
 Brangaena. * And where the sphinx-moth hives, 
 
 Brangaena, rest you in the furzy wood, 
 
 And look for the long-throated. 
 
 Blandishing honeysuckle, that no bee 
 
 Can ever fathom — honey for my child. 
 
 And for her lover sweetness 
 
 So haunting, so reserved, even from his grave 
 
 He will desire her ; she shall be desired 
 
 While she draws breath and even from her 
 grave.' 
 YsEULT (who has been looking down intently into the 
 water) . Brangaena, 
 
 There is a music rising 
 
 From the sea and from the wedges of the rocks. 
 
 And from the sluices of these hollow homes, 
 
 I hear it — dolorous — 
 
 From the edges and the sliding parapets. 
 
 Would I were nearer — such a fringe of sound ! 
 
 I would descend. 
 
126 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act li. 
 
 And pluck the music to me as a flower. 
 Is it the Sirens ? 
 
 [Brangaena draws her violently away. 
 Brangaena. Oh, come back ! 
 
 What should I hear ? My faculties are dulled. 
 What should I know ? Have pity on me, turn 
 Away from these deceits. I lose you, sweet. 
 If you bend down so far. It is the Sirens ! 
 And I am loosing hold. In pity come ! 
 My arms relax — in pity, 
 Come back to me ! Loved, pray ! 
 
 [She sinks back, her arms stretched to 
 
 YSEULT. 
 
 YsEULT (laughing). It is the Sirens, if you are so 
 childish ; 
 It is the music sunken in the sea. 
 A multitude 
 
 Remote and singing — yet a drop 
 At the bottom of the flood that has one voice ! 
 No, do not fear ! 
 
 I must go down to it. Do not be scared. 
 Do not betray me any more. 
 
 [YsEULT dips her hands in the water and 
 bathes her forehead ; then nestles in 
 Brangaena's arms. 
 Now I can sleep. 
 Brangaena [with growing terror). No ! Should you 
 sleep, 
 These sounds you hear . . . Rouse, love, arouse 
 yourself ! 
 
ACTIL] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 127 
 
 YsEULT. Sleeping and waking are but as the shores 
 Of the peace that washes them on either side. 
 ... I never saw the orchard 
 So bright before and laden with such fruits — 
 Apples, and little, gadding cucumbers, 
 And vetches up the trees . . . Oh, see ! 
 But not with his disparkled hair. 
 Not stained and hurt — he is come down to his 
 
 pleasance. 
 And, my sad knight, he smiles ! 
 
 Brangaena. Child, these are dreams . . . 
 
 Yseult ! Yseult ! 
 
 YsEULT. I am awake. 
 
 Brangaena. What do you hear, what spell is on 
 you? 
 
 Yseult. Now 
 
 It is the thrush's voice — ah, inland, deep. 
 Sprung from the forest. . . . 
 
 Brangaena. Then a dream — 
 
 Not from the sea ! Then this is but a dream 
 Of the great Morais Forest and the whistling 
 Between the branches of the summer birds. 
 
 Yseult. No, no : this music, 
 
 I often heard it at my casement. Then 
 
 It broke my heart, so wildly 
 
 It sang of summer. It is Tristan sings, 
 
 Calling me to him for my death — the whistle 
 
 Of a bird lost at sea. It is Tristan, hark ! 
 
 Kiss me, Brangaena . . . For you see the calm 
 
 Is very wide, the landmark but a cry. . . . 
 
128 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act ii. 
 
 Brangaena. Why do you rise ? W'here would you 
 go? 
 
 [YsEULT moves a little way : then turns 
 hack as if from sight of a desert. 
 YsEULT. Kiss me, Brangaena. Let me feel your 
 hands ! 
 
 [Brangaena, with a piercing cry, falls. 
 Her flesh is warm — it tingles on my flesh. 
 
 \She looks round helplessly, trying to touch 
 things. 
 I have chilled the music and the breath of it 
 Cannot flow back . . . Yet I am firm and sound ; 
 
 And the ship is sailing on 
 
 [She starts in terror at the sudden heave of 
 the ship and lays her hand on the wheel ; 
 as Kaherdin and the helmsman spring 
 forward, she fronts them white as a 
 statue, and motionless. 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 129 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene 
 
 A hare room ; at the hack a terrace, with a wall breast- 
 high, stretches against the sea. A broad step runs 
 along under the wall ; below it a couch has been 
 made of wolf-skins, over which is laid an emerald 
 silk coverlid, broidered over with gold wheels. A 
 great golden harp stands behind the couch. There 
 is a deeply -recessed door to the left. 
 
 Tristan is clinging to the top of the wall by his hands, 
 clamped on the outer edge. His arms are sup- 
 ported to the elbow on the breadth of the wall. 
 The old Duke Hoel stands with his back to the 
 sea, close to Tristan, who wears a tunic of cloth 
 of gold. His face, when seen, is fever-struck, 
 under the mass of his russet hair. The hour 
 is toward evening. 
 
 Hoel. Rest, rest 1 
 Tristan. No sail ! 
 
 Clouds move across my sight. . . . 
 Hoel. I should be able to discern a speck. 
 
 The mast's first climbing, for my eyes have strength 
 \ I 
 
130 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act hi. 
 
 To see the stars at noontide. Let me watch^ 
 And, for God's love, lie down. 
 Tristan {speaking fast). The sea, stretched out 
 
 before me as a shield. 
 An unscathed shield ! What arrow pierces it ? 
 What dances round the rock ? 
 What glistening pennon and what sudden toss 
 Of fairy-roses ? I have seen her face . . . 
 I cannot leave such joy out there at sea. 
 Hold me up firm . . . 
 
 She is travelling, as God 
 Travels the heavens ; she is speeding on ; 
 The passion of her speeding stops my heart. 
 But though she travel fast there is such weakness 
 And such despair in me I can but call. 
 And call to her. It is my great lament 
 To call upon the name that cannot hear. 
 To call while I have any voice — and after 
 God make me but a moan across the wind, 
 A spirit at her ears ! Yseult, Yseult, 
 Yseult ! — A sail, a promise ! O the sea, 
 The sea-wind and the sea ! . . . 
 
 You know at last : 
 Thus was it with me, thus — the King of Cornwall 
 Kept her a priceless harp he could not play, 
 That every time I touched it was my own, 
 The instrument that useless 
 The King kept by him, mine, mine in its 
 
 music. 
 Each spark, the very form and hope of it. 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 131 
 
 I would have sold my God to buy that harp . . . 
 Thus, thus it was . . . 
 
 Yseult ! 
 [He bows his head on his strained arms 
 and weeps. After a while, he lifts his 
 head, 
 
 I have told you, father, all. 
 You are wise and old, 
 
 You are pitiful with the long days and quiet. 
 As old woods in their midst ... I have told you 
 all. [HoEL does not speak. 
 
 Can you tell her ? 
 HoEL. Let be, my son, let be ! Why should we tell 
 her? 
 Let be ! 
 Tristan. My fine high Queen, she will not come to 
 me. 
 Wrapt in disguise ; she will be wrapt in gold, 
 A gold crown on her head, and, in her hands 
 Drawn up, the deep veil of her golden hair 
 She will gather in her hands. I see the vision ! 
 And of herself she will give no account ; 
 But simply, swiftly striding through the hall. 
 Pass as a sentinel the word Yseult. 
 I fear her — 
 
 She has many wrongs. 
 Must not your daughter know ? 
 HoEL. In breaking news, 
 
 God breaks it best ... 
 
 She has marvellous black hair. 
 
132 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act hi. 
 
 My little daughter . . , 
 
 Could you so mistake, 
 Sir Tristan ? — She has marvellous black hair. 
 
 [Tristan groans. 
 Tristan. I fear I am a poet. Oh, the burthen 
 Of seeing all creation as one God ! 
 Have you not kissed a child for just one note 
 In a dead voice, and do you heed the child ? 
 She must be told ! 
 HoEL. Nay, nay ! If it should kill her ! 
 
 [Tristan, still gripping the wall with one 
 arm, looses with the left arm and turns 
 round to face Duke Hoel. 
 Tristan. . . . She must be told, that she may stand 
 aside 
 As at a pageant . . . Even to be bom 
 In the age when such a vision may be seen ! 
 For she will come in all her majesty, 
 And as I have not seen her, for her eyes 
 Burnt low beneath her crown when I did homage. 
 And her cheek sank to hollow of the grave. 
 Remember ! 
 
 I have bidden her across the waves. Have mercy ! 
 Consider her . . . We must clothe her in great 
 titles. 
 Hoel. My son, well may we say she is a Queen, 
 
 The Queen Yseult, who of her charity . . . 
 Tristan. O sweet, but she is beautiful ; her beauty 
 Shines forth of her . . . She comes 
 As to a crv. 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 133 
 
 HofiL. She comes to biing you health ; 
 
 Fair son, this I will say : — 
 
 Your wife would have you healed, for tenderly 
 
 She loves you, Tristan. 
 Tristan. She must stand aside, 
 
 As at a pageant, she must hold her peace. 
 
 I know not what will be . . . She must be told. 
 
 Go, father, as you love me — go ! 
 
 [Wearily he clings again to the wall and 
 
 gazes seaward. Duke Hoel leaves the 
 
 room doubtfully, then returns and stands 
 
 in mute expostulation by Tristan's side. 
 
 What, would you watch with me ? 
 
 Hoel. For you are ill . . . 
 
 I would most gladly watch with you, my son. 
 
 You are weak ; you cannot watch. 
 Tristan. She has come down from her throne, she 
 has touched the sand, 
 
 I think she walks the sea. Such condescension 
 
 Is infinite, a miracle of love. 
 Hoel {aside). My little daughter — 
 
 And if I told her, what would that avail ? 
 Tristan. You shall not tell her. Watch along with me. 
 
 Watch for the Queen Yseult, and I will sing 
 
 The burthen of her coming. Let her rule ! 
 
 She is strong enough to face all circumstance : 
 
 But we must take her coming as the visit 
 
 Of something holy. 
 
 Think not of your daughter. 
 
 And the few tears that she will shed. This Queen 
 
134 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [ACT ill. 
 
 Has left Tintagel, and the fairy palace 
 Is adamant behind her : this wide sea 
 She never can re-cross ; she wraps herself 
 In the sea to come to me ; it is her shroud, 
 And she can never take it off. . . . 
 
 HoEL. My son, 
 
 What would you have me do ? If you should 
 
 die — 
 And there is often death in your wild movements. 
 
 Tristan. What should you do ? In pictures 
 Have you not seen, when a bright Power comes in, 
 How in a comer somewhere, with veiled eyes, 
 There is a little group ... I shall not die : 
 Nothing can be at all until she come. 
 
 HoEL. The sea is dead becalmed. 
 
 Tristan. I do not know . . . 
 
 We must make ready for her, long before. 
 As a mother for her child. It is the hope 
 That feeds the patience ! 
 
 There must be vast carpets 
 Laid on the rugged steps : her feet will bleed 
 On the sharp rock ; for you forget 
 She has no garment on her but the sea, 
 This Queen with fading fairyland behind. 
 Who stoops to touch our coast. 
 
 [He unclasps from the wall and turns with 
 his hack to the sea. 
 
 I brushed the dew 
 Away when she has met me in the meadows. 
 The mossy meadows of the wood, with feet 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 13S 
 
 Laid bare for silence . . . 
 
 She has met me, father. 
 Once in a wood, the moonUght keeping guard — 
 That night the dial shone as at the noon. 
 Keeping its point meridian. 
 
 (In a soft voice.) Watch with me I 
 Sir Hoel, you are changing, you have felt 
 How music can grow small and wrap itself 
 Into a beating odour . . . Kaherdin 
 Is gone as on a quest : 
 
 If he come back, if you can watch with me. 
 The music that you listen to, and wonder 
 How still the lilies are and how the stars 
 Are weeping over us — you have not known, 
 You have not seen before — all this will open, 
 And as the benison descends on us. 
 There will be passing to and fro of ships 
 From coast to coast ; through little golden channels 
 They dart and glide, and there is no more sea ; 
 But ever laimching, ever setting forth. 
 Ever to touch the land, and all the shores 
 Haunted by little steps of primroses ... 
 
 [Dreamily he turns again to the sea, fixing 
 his eyes on it and shading them. 
 I thought I saw a ship. 
 Hoel. No ship ! 
 
 Let me support you ... Do not fail. No matter 
 The sea is calm ; there is quiver through the 
 
 sea, 
 As it would burst its heart. 
 
136 TRISTAN DE L^ONOIS [act iii. 
 
 Tristan. No ship in harbour ? 
 
 Do not the sea-birds flap up from the surf ? 
 
 I see them ; there is scurry by the wharves ! 
 HoEL. No, no ! We yet must wait, but there is 
 quiver 
 
 Now in the sea as it must burst its heart. 
 
 Loose from the wall and let me lay you down ; 
 
 Your nails are bleeding. 
 Tristan. Hold me, keep your place. 
 
 YsEULT OF Brittany enters behind them 
 
 Ho£l. Hush ! 
 
 Tristan. Who is that ? 
 
 HoEL. Your wife. 
 
 YsEULT OF Brittany. What are you watching for ? 
 Father, draw in 
 Our Tristan ; it is cold. 
 Tristan. Tell her ! 
 
 [His hands relax and he slips down on his 
 knees hy the wall ; then falls hack 
 swooning into Duke Hoel's arms. 
 YsEULT. What is it ? 
 
 These hands are very cold . . . Oh, he is dying, 
 And the wide eyes are drooping, growing dark. 
 The long, slow breaths — a tide 
 To bury him away, more deep, more slow 
 Than breathing ! Tristan, Tristan ! 
 He suffers ! God, awake these eyes, in mercy, 
 And bid the brow spring naked that so sunken 
 Stretches in shadow . . . 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 137 
 
 Father, 
 You stood together, you were looking forth ; 
 I came upon you as I were not one. 
 The nearest to you both. 
 
 I am Tristan's wife. 
 And he has swooned : I am your child, your 
 
 daughter. 
 Withhold not this thing from me. 
 HoEL (roughly). There, make place, 
 
 Give way ! give way ! 
 
 [He lifts Tristan and carries him to the 
 
 couch; then, when he has laid him 
 
 down, raised his head, and given him a 
 
 cordial, he rises. 
 
 YsEULT (opposing him at the foot of the couch). 
 
 Instruct me what to do. 
 
 HoEL (laughing). Drag down vast carpets, cover all 
 
 the stairs, 
 
 Make ready — my command to you — make ready, 
 
 As if it were a god. 
 
 YsEULT (astonished, gazing at the form before her). 
 
 You mean a funeral ? 
 Ho£l (drawing her to him). Make ready, child. 
 
 [He sets her on his knee. 
 Come here. There must be changes ; 
 And, as you put it, in a funeral 
 We know the change and we prepare for it 
 Our pomps and our solemnities. 
 
 Child, there are other changes — 
 As if a ship comes freighted full of gold. 
 
138 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act hi. 
 
 And bursts its treasure at a beggar's feet ; 
 
 Changes that cost one's wits . . . 
 
 [His eyes streaming with tears. 
 Put back this hair ; 
 
 It is better braided up ; yes, tuck it up . . . 
 
 And sweep the rooms and haul down the great 
 carpets . . . 
 
 Make ready so. 
 YsEULT. I will not stir. 
 
 HoEL. He has been singing to me, child . . . Make ready t 
 
 Do not disturb your husband. Presently 
 
 When he awakes say I have told you all : 
 
 Say you are ready and the carpets laid . . . 
 
 It is his pleasure. 
 YsEULT. Nay, 
 
 He told you all, my father, and his pleasure 
 
 Is that you give me burthen of the tale 
 
 From your own lips. 
 HoEL. Child, child ! 
 
 It was not so he told it ... It sang forth 
 
 From the spices of the sea. 
 
 [Tristan cries in his sleep. 
 He is calling, child ; 
 
 Listen, he mutters ... he may tell you all. 
 YsEULT. He is calling me — Yseultl He is calling me. 
 
 Loose, let me go ! 
 HoEL. If you will say my words — 
 
 You must prepare. 
 
 You wiU be ready ; I have told you all. 
 [She kneels by Tristan, a>^i Duke HotLgoes out. 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 139 
 
 YsEULT. Tristan ! But in his sleep he called to me. 
 Tristan ! I answer back . . . 
 
 How strange it is 
 That they should be so hard on me ; my father 
 So hard ... I have my secret to myself : 
 For if they could suspect they would be angry ; 
 They would not follow Tristan. Something strange 
 There is grown up among them : Kaherdin 
 Kissed me and did not say he would return, 
 Or where he sailed. I weep, 
 I must weep for him sorer, bitterer, 
 Than if I mourned him dead. 
 
 [Thrumming with her fingers on the 
 coverlid. 
 
 Tristan has travelled 
 Once — twice : I know not 
 The country he has journeyed to. He comes 
 Dishevelled and most wonderful, his eyes 
 Fresh- jewelled with fresh stones. I do not ask 
 What perils he has met. 
 Nor why he cut away his shining hair. 
 Nor how it is he comes back as one blasted. 
 Who cannot eat among us any more, 
 Nor laugh among us, nor take rest . . . 
 I do not ask 
 
 That he should play the harp, I feel he cannot ; 
 And yet he must — for now 
 There is between us nothing but a name. 
 Unless we have our marriage in his music ; 
 For I can lay my head 
 
140 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act hi. 
 
 Against his harp, I can caress his harp. 
 And he caresses back. 
 
 [Leaning against the golden harp. 
 For just this song 
 In the bosom of the harp I understand, 
 As if it were the cooing of a child. 
 
 [Wringing her hands. 
 I shall not bear a child. 
 Nor yet, nor ever, for before the year 
 Of his vow is ended Tristan will be dead. 
 What is it so forbidden in our nuptials ? 
 -^ I ask myself — I do not ask my father, 
 I do not ask my brother ; 
 For if I heard the answer from my father, 
 Or from my brother ... 
 
 It is best to hear 
 Nothing, but in the way his harp can tell ; 
 To be the little, dark Yseult he loves. 
 Tristan {opening his eyes) . Yseult ! 
 Yseult. You have waked soon, my dear — but I am 
 ready, 
 And all is at your pleasure. 
 
 You have called me . . . 
 Shall I not dress your wound ? You call so 
 
 softly . . . 
 And yet such pain ... 
 
 [As Tristan rises and moans. 
 Tristan, he told me all . . . 
 Now let me dress your wound . . . Not that ? 
 Then say 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 141 
 
 What you would have me do ? I am all 
 patience. 
 
 [Tristan stretches his hand out wearily 
 toward the harp. 
 Your harp ! Ah, then indeed you will make 
 
 ready, 
 Will you not, Tristan ? I shall learn the burthen 
 Of a new song ! I give you all your pleasure ! 
 
 [He plays a sad air. 
 But these are ancient notes — and nothing new 
 To startle me ! Love's music ! 
 
 [She stoops to kiss Tristan, who is 
 touching his harp again and again, his 
 face turned from her. 
 Tristan {suddenly turning his face). Little, dark 
 Yseult, you curse me — but I loved your love, 
 Answering your name . . . Yseult. 
 
 Re-enter Duke Hoel 
 
 HoEL. There ! She will have you healed by blackest 
 arts — 
 Ho, ho ! by blackest arts ; and she will suffer 
 That a great Queen shall sit beside your couch — 
 As well she knows wise women may be found 
 Tutored by nature ; and there is no cause 
 For jealousy, her father 
 Being well-content. 
 
 {To Yseult.) Your brother in his ship 
 Is bearing home this Wizard-Queen to Carhaix, 
 For once she healed our Tristan of his hurt. 
 
142 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act hi. 
 
 A venomed hurt. Your hands, 
 
 These fair, white hands cannot draw forth the sting 
 
 Of fatal poison . . . Girl, you have a husband 
 
 Of tender nurture, one who grieves for you. 
 
 Who grieves to put you from your nurse's place. 
 
 Who loves you and besought of me, your father. . . . 
 YsEULT {to Tristan). A nurse for you, a wizard- 
 herbalist, 
 
 A Queen ! 
 
 Tristan, I kiss you pardon. And you feared 
 
 To grieve me. . . . 
 Tristan {smiling.) All the way of love is grief. 
 
 . . . Her chamber 
 
 Be in the Tower that looks forth to the west. 
 
 Can you not make it ready ? 
 YsEULT. I shall meet her ; 
 
 Beloved, I am the hostess to your Queen ; 
 
 And she shall dress your wound. Then I shall 
 come 
 
 To watch again, to soothe you at your pillow. 
 
 While our wise, royal guest shall pass to banquet, 
 
 My brother humbly waiting on her. 
 Tristan. Father, 
 
 You have deceived me. She must imderstand — 
 HoEL. She will, when you are healed from death. 
 Go, child. 
 
 You shall make ready ; as you are my child, 
 
 Shall be a hostess and not bring me shame. 
 
 Prepare the lodging as your husband bids 
 
 For the great stranger lady — 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 143 
 
 Tristan {standing by his harp and flashing with light). 
 
 For Yseult, 
 My life, my death — the sole song of my harp, 
 Yseult of Ireland, my one heritage — 
 There is one Tristan, there is one Yseult. 
 
 [Yseult of Brittany rises from the 
 couch, where she has been sitting, and 
 clutches her black plaits in either hand. 
 She is fair-haired, Yseult of the White Hands ; 
 She loves me, never has she broken faith. 
 There is one Tristan, there is one Yseult. 
 
 [Yseult of Brittany goes up to Tris- 
 tan's harp, gathers some of the wires 
 in her hand and wrenches them from 
 their pegs. Tristan breaks into 
 mournful laughter. 
 HoEL. Come, child, away ! 
 
 [She faces Tristan's laughter a moment ; 
 her eyes blank, the wires of the harp in 
 her fingers. Then, with a cry, she goes 
 out, followed by Duke Hoel. 
 Tristan. Now she has stabbed Yseult, 
 
 There is no more Tintagel — 
 And the great fairy-castle blown to earth ! 
 The rock, the height, the sunset — it is gone : 
 Nor is there anything to happen more. 
 My harp is dead, and all blown down. The 
 harp — 
 
 [His hand passing over it falls through a 
 hollow. 
 
144 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act in. 
 
 The power to call her through the world 
 
 And all its quarters gone. My harp — a chasm ! 
 
 [In white shining a golden sail streams 
 across the far sea, high above. 
 A wide-wrenched throat — no voice, 
 Nor any power to call . . . The harp ! 
 She never loved it ; she has laughed at me 
 For a harper ; but she did not laugh at me 
 For a fool ; she loved me with the bells ... 
 But it is still now, and I must be dying — 
 For what remains, what can remain . . . The fool ! 
 Love's fool ! — She loved me with the bells, that 
 
 music 
 Chimed well . . . Soft, it is coming . . . 
 
 [He listens. 
 As a magic suit of armour to my wars. 
 As a vision of a shield — a sound of bells 
 Borne to me ! 
 
 A slow boom of sound 
 Thickens the air ... A passing-bell ! 
 And I will count the years. 
 
 [The hell strikes thirty and then stops. 
 A passing-bell ! 
 God's patience with my soul ! 
 
 [Slowly a new sound intrudes as of a 
 muffled sob : it grows. Tristan rises 
 vehemently. 
 
 I cannot listen, 
 I cannot bear to hear. I know our ears 
 Are given, I know my ears 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LfiONOIS 145 
 
 Are given for the voices of my hands 
 
 Upon the harp : all other sounds 
 
 Whelm me as tides advancing to o'erwhelm. 
 
 They are all come to drown me, all these sounds, 
 
 They are nothing but pursuit — they are dogging 
 
 me. 
 This is a master-fiend — 
 
 It clutches, bumps . . . Ho ! it is in the roof. 
 It is overhead . . . Why are you here ? — This 
 sound ? [His wife comes close to him. 
 
 YsEULT OF Brittany {with flaming eyes). A great 
 
 bell, and it sounds out far to sea. 
 Tristan. You are hating me. 
 
 YsEULT. It is a Christian bell. 
 
 Tristan. You are hating me. 
 
 YsEULT {with a passionate gesture) . Give up your soul 
 to God. 
 I love you, Tristan ! 
 
 Tristan, I love you, I would save your soul. 
 I love you — not a fiend dare brave us now, 
 Not if you listen, while I pray. I love you . . . 
 Then drink the holy drops . . . these from the 
 
 chapel ! 
 I sprinkle, scatter the dews over him — 
 There ! While I pray. . . . 
 
 [Tristan has sunk hack on the couch. 
 
 \ YsEULT OF Brittany kneels by the bed, 
 
 snatches his hand and kisses her prayers 
 
 on it. Gradually a long trill of laughter 
 
 crosses the dirge. Tristan starts up. 
 
 K 
 
146 TRISTAN DE LEONOIS [act hi. 
 
 Tristan. I hear a laugh ... I cannot see ! Laugh 
 on, 
 Laugh close — I cannot hear ! . . . 
 But I can hear a voice ... It is her voice. 
 She is laughing at the bells — she hears the 
 
 bells ... 
 Remain — behold ! 
 
 [He clutches Yseult's hands and keeps 
 them locked in his. 
 A Voice. Bells, bells ! The fool's bells, are they 
 jangling still ? 
 My fool, my fool ! 
 
 And do you ring, so solemn 
 Because a fool is dead ? Give place ! 
 
 [He looses Yseult's hands and pushes 
 her from him. 
 
 My fool, my fool ! 
 Where shall I find him ? 
 
 [A mystic company enters, as if blown 
 along on flame : in front Queen 
 YsEULT and Brangaena. 
 
 Queen Yseult {imperiously to the other Yseult). 
 Stop the bells ! 
 Let there be peace. I come to fetch him — 
 
 go! 
 Stop the bells — and return ! 
 
 Give me a cup . . . 
 [Yseult of Brittany rises and goes 
 out. 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 147 
 
 We are athirst ! 
 
 How lank this hair, how dim 
 These soiled, wet eyes ! Not blind ? . . . Bran- 
 
 gaena, give us 
 The very cup — from the bottom of the 
 
 sea, 
 Washed up to me in the hollows of the 
 
 calm ! 
 AVe are not mocked . . . 
 
 Now, see ! Then feel it, Tristan — 
 Stuck round with barnacles ! . . . Love, is it 
 
 harsh 
 To these dear fingers ? They must wreathe it 
 
 round. 
 
 [Tristan*s nostrils expand. 
 Now smell ! — It is the very cup. Brangaena 
 Came with it in her hands — she has atoned ; 
 She is our cupbearer — ha, ha ! for ever ! 
 Not you — be gone ! 
 
 [She breathes on Yseult of the White 
 Hands, who enters, trembling, with a 
 cup . . . Yseult creeps away. Then 
 Queen Yseult turns to Duke Hoel, 
 who has advanced with wine. 
 
 Yes, any wine on earth 
 You may pour into it — that is no matter — 
 I have sucked brine from it, and all its 
 
 odours 
 And all its herbs translated. See, Beloved, 
 
148 TRISTAN DE l60N0IS [act hi. 
 
 Not yet . . . You must not drink it — 
 
 by-and-by 
 There will be no more patience and no 
 
 room 
 For memory . . . Look at the cup! ... A 
 
 perfume 
 Breaks from its sides as ambergris ; smell, 
 
 smell ! 
 We are not mocked . . . How free we are to 
 
 talk 
 To one another ! 
 Tristan {shuddering). Did you drag it up ? 
 Will you not sign the Cross. I am afraid. 
 YsEULT. Fool, fool to the last ! Brangaena fished 
 it up, 
 And with a mortal hook. 
 
 [She laughs low, caressing him. 
 Fool, I am with you, 
 And on your errand ! Do you know our 
 
 bourne 
 When we have drunk this potion ? 
 Tristan. O my Death, 
 
 But you are gripping me in tighter bonds 
 Than any I have known. 
 YsEULT. How dear to find you 
 
 So mortal and so timid ! Must I snatch 
 
 you? 
 Will you not drink ? 
 Tristan {stammering). God's love. ... 
 
 [Again Yseult laughs. 
 
ACT III.] TRISTAN DE LEONOIS 149 
 
 YsEULT. I am come to fetch you, 
 
 Tristan, to me — it is your Hell or Heaven. 
 
 [She drinks. His hand fastens on the cup, 
 and he drinks too, then falls hack. The 
 mystic company has faded. Tristan 
 lies dead. A solemn chanting is heard : 
 Kaherdin and his sailors enter with 
 the dead body of Queen Yseult. She 
 is laid beside Tristan. There is a 
 sound of magic music in the profound 
 silence of the room round the dead 
 lovers. 
 
A MESSIAH 
 
 Yes, a Messiah — and the tragedy of those who from among 
 the Called deem themselves the Chosen. And how, in the 
 midst of high endeavour, they creep on into hypocrisy and 
 tortured pride ! 
 
 ' Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot 
 Unlikely wonders.' 
 
PERSONS 
 
 Sabbatai Zevi, the Turkish Messiah. 
 
 Mohammed VI., the Soldan. 
 
 Ahmed Coprili, the Grand Vizir. 
 
 The Mufti Vanni, Head of the Mosque of St. Sophia. 
 
 MUSTAPHA Pasha, Deputy- Vizir or Kaimacon. 
 
 Chelibi Saraph-Bashi, Jewish Master of the Mint at 
 
 Smyrna. 
 Nehemiah Cohen, a Claimant of Messiahship. 
 Nathan Benjamin of Gaza, the Prophet of Sabbatai. 
 Samuel Primo, the Secretary of Sabbatai. 
 Nachmonides, a Jewish Physician. 
 Elias Zevi, 
 Joseph Zevi, 
 Isaac Silvera, 
 
 Mokiah Caspar and others,, 
 Abraham Rubio, a beggar from the Morea. 
 Seid, the Turkish jailer of Sabbatai. 
 Zarah, the wife of Sabbatai. 
 
 Rabbis^ People of Smyrna^ Spahis and their Captains^ 
 Custom-house Officers, Women and Maidens, Mariners, 
 Eunuchs, Ambassadors. 
 
 Jewish followers of Sabbatai 
 made kings by him. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 Acts I. and II., at Smyrna. 
 Act III., at Constantinople. 
 
 TIME 
 A.D. 1648 onwards. 
 
A MESSIAH 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I 
 
 A silent wintry night on the seashore of Smyrna ; at 
 the back the dark flow of the sea. Rabbis stand 
 together in their dark turbans ; at a little distance 
 Abplaham Rubio squats on the sand. 
 
 Rabbis [speaking among themselves). 
 The sea is cold. 
 The sea is very cold. 
 The sea is starry. 
 Like wounds upon the sea are the large stars. 
 
 Rubio. And our young Rabbi is down in the 
 winter-sea — cold as death ; if this bath is purifica- 
 tion, Abraham Rubio will be unclean till the day 
 of the promise. How Sabbatai must shiver ! 
 
 Rabbis [among themselves). 
 
 Hush, hush, the stars are shivering as they shine, 
 
 Hush, we are shivering. 
 
 It is very cold. 
 
 It is cold, and yet the stars are gay at heart. 
 
 Do you not feel them gay, as maidens shake 
 
154 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 On the verges of a dance, on the shores of music. 
 
 That has not touched their ears to stir their feet ? 
 
 We are waiting, and the sea and stars are waiting. 
 
 The Heavens, the Earth, the people of our God, 
 
 Who made the Heavens and Earth and chose our 
 tribes. 
 
 We wait — O God, how long we wait — we wait ! 
 Primo. Why should ye hope this dreamy Cabalist, 
 
 This self-tormentor, with the ardent lips, 
 
 And eyes wrapped in their secrecy as clearly 
 
 As summer's crystal blueness, will arise 
 
 And make avowal he is bom of God ? 
 Rabbis. We wait. 
 
 The sea is waiting and the stars. 
 
 We all are ready and the night grows deep. 
 
 You see him ? 
 
 Do you see the Sainted ? 
 
 Yonder, 
 
 Clean arrows of the stars shoot round a darkness 
 
 That should be he, tranquil and set with waves. 
 RuBio. What a patience ! His entrails must be 
 
 cold as the belly of a corpse in its new grave : 
 
 mine starve at the thought. 
 Primo. Why should he break his silence ? Sabbatai 
 
 Is silent ever, and he will not speak. 
 Rabbis. He will. 
 
 The stars have told us, 
 
 The sea has told us, 
 
 The Heavens — the Earth, 
 
 Our hearts. 
 
SCI.] A MESSIAH 155 
 
 RuBio. What do I do here ? The city is gone away 
 
 from hfe into sleep. It is deaf. Minarets and 
 
 cypresses are tipped with snow, the AcropoUs Ues 
 
 under a roof of snow ; I should lie under my 
 
 Syrian rug, if I were not too much of a beggar to 
 
 own one. God of Israel, we are all beggars here, 
 
 we are all hungry and cold ! Have mercy, have 
 
 mercy — feed Thou our emptiness ! 
 Rabbis. The sea is icier than the snow. 
 
 The stars are whiter. 
 
 He is gone from sight, he has closed himself away. 
 
 No, no, he is there again. 
 
 He moves. 
 
 He is coming. . . . 
 
 He comes up from the waters of the deep. 
 
 everlasting Ocean ! 
 
 See, he moves, 
 
 As rhythmic as a wave on toward the land, 
 
 Dripping the ocean from his head : the stars 
 
 Scatter their silver tresses round. 
 
 The stars, — 
 
 The stars are wild and rapturous. 
 
 He is coming. . . . 
 
 It is silent. 
 
 The rams' horns 
 
 Are silent so from new moon to new moon. 
 
 The thunder of the sky 
 
 Is silent thus before its instant. 
 
 God, 
 
 We will be silent, for our hearts have voice 
 
156 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 Waiting for breath breathed on them by thy 
 Will! 
 
 [They make no sound, but as Sabbatai 
 conies nearer they draw back. 
 We dare not. . . . 
 We must move or cry. 
 O terror ! 
 
 God moves upon the waters. Who abides 
 His coming ? 
 
 On the shore he sets his feet. 
 The waving stars, the flame-haired Seraphim ! 
 Beautiful is his coming ; 
 Bare the star-rays 
 
 About his naked form . . . the night's expansion ! 
 Peace ! 
 
 He is standing silent. 
 Heaven and Earth 
 
 And sea and stars and men are therefrom silent. 
 Oh ! [They hold their breath. 
 
 [Sabbatai seems to be drinking in power 
 from the universe as he stands naked 
 before them. At last over the shore and 
 city is heard one cry. 
 Sabbatai. J h w h ! 
 
 [There is a moment of panic as the for- 
 bidden name is spoken. 
 A Rabbi {in the whisper of a death-chamber). 
 
 Who may speak the Name but one ? 
 A Chorus. Messiah ! 
 Hail, Messiah ! 
 
sc. I.] A MESSIAH 157 
 
 Sent of God ! 
 
 Bom to his people ! 
 
 Our Deliverance ! 
 
 See, see, he stands before us. 
 Primo. He has spoken. 
 
 The stars have heard the Name and did not fall, 
 
 The sea has heard it and the sea extends 
 
 Floating and calm ; the night has heard and shines 
 
 Across its ragged cloud ; we too have heard, 
 
 And live and shout our joy — out of our joy 
 
 We see and know God's Chosen. 
 Rabbis. Sabbatai ! 
 
 Our King, our Lord of Lords ! 
 
 The true Messiah ! 
 
 The King of all Kings, the Celestial Lion ! 
 
 Who will redeem his people ! 
 
 Who will gather 
 
 The remnant from the winds ! 
 
 Our joy, our joy ! 
 
 He is the true Messiah ! 
 
 Sabbatai ! 
 
 And without weapons he shall wage his war, 
 
 And quell the dragon with no weapon raised. 
 RuBio. He will take away our reproach, he will fill 
 
 us with good things and gold will pertain to him. 
 
 Let us believe and we shall be princes. 
 Primo. We must believe, for the sky stands ; the 
 sea. 
 
 And stars of heaven are white as snow about him 
 
 Who has joined heaven and earth 
 
158 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 With the four sounds of God's mysterious Name, 
 
 Uniting the Creator and His World. 
 
 We must believe ; it is not left to faith — 
 
 We have heard the Name and Uve, we have seen 
 
 the night. 
 The host of heaven, the ocean and the shore 
 Secure while the intolerable touched 
 Voiceful each mortal substance. Let us pray 
 To God, our God, we be of His true Kingdom, 
 And of Messiah's Kingdom that begins. 
 
 [They lift their arms. From all the snowy 
 minarets come voices. 
 The Mueddin. God is great, there is no God but 
 God, 
 Mohammed is God's prophet. 
 
 [Sabbatai, as if waking from a trance, 
 shivers. 
 Sabbatai. It is cold. 
 
 RuBio. Prince, your entrails must be chilled in your 
 belly. 
 The God of Jacob warm them ! 
 Primo. Holy One, let us go back with praises ! 
 We have outstripped the dawn now thou art 
 
 risen — 
 
 Our Sim that shineth. We are blest, we are saved. 
 
 [The Rabbis fall on their faces before him, 
 
 hut RuBio lifts up to him his gabardine 
 
 and turban from under the stones of a 
 
 rock. 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 159 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Smyrna. Evening. 
 
 The courtyard of Chelibi's house. In the midst, a 
 fountain; to the right, a knot of cypress-trees ; 
 to the left, great rose-hushes ; to the hack, the chief 
 wall of the house, white and pierced irregularly 
 with windows, a door to the left hand in the wall. 
 To the extreme left of the courtyard, an entrance 
 into the street stands open. The courtyard is 
 empty. 
 
 A Chorus of lovely Virgins enters from the archway 
 with lamps. As they pass the fountain they 
 pause, let fall their swinging lamps that twinkle in 
 the water, then lift them up and advance toward 
 the cypresses with a cry. 
 
 Chorus. We are waiting for the Bridegroom, we are 
 waiting, 
 We are waiting for his call ; 
 We love him — his graces, 
 His light on our faces, 
 And he loves us whatever may befall. 
 
 LiLiTH. He loveth me as if he loved me only. 
 He loveth me as his Bride. 
 His hands — they are clinging ; 
 When I answer my voice is singing : 
 He loveth me as he loveth none beside. 
 
i6o 
 
 A MESSIAH 
 
 [ACT I. 
 
 Rachel. We are waiting for the Bridegroom, we are 
 waiting, 
 And the Bridegroom hath the Bride ; 
 He has chosen her ; she loveth him ; 
 He has chosen her ; our Ughts are dim ; 
 For the beloved of the Bridegroom is the 
 Bride. 
 
 Ruth. We are waiting for the Bridegroom, each 
 handmaiden, 
 We are waiting for his call ; 
 
 What he biddeth we shall do it — 
 If we deny him aught we rue it. 
 His power be on us all ! 
 
 Eve. We are waiting for the Bridegroom, for his 
 Kingdom, 
 For the glory of our race ; 
 
 Many people before him shall stand ; 
 He shall greet his Elect on his right 
 hand 
 He shall give them place. 
 
 Judith. We are waiting for the Bridegroom and he 
 rideth, 
 He rides as a man of war ; 
 
 He embraceth the foe at his feet ; 
 He rideth in victory complete. 
 He rideth from afar. 
 
SC. IL] A MESSIAH i6i 
 
 LiLiTH. But he delays his coming, but our Lord 
 
 Delays his coming. Let us leave the 
 cypress, 
 And cross you to the roses — by the arch- 
 way 
 Let us make cluster, for our Lord delays. 
 [LiLiTH leads the Maidens towards the 
 rose-hushes ; they form a gleaming knot 
 by the archway. 
 Ruth. Let us in all things yield perpetual praise. 
 
 [She carefully trims her lamp and sits 
 down low on a stone of the archway. 
 From the house-door servants and slaves 
 come forth, spreading flowers and carpets 
 and dragging out wine-pots. Then a 
 hand of honourable men pace slowly 
 behind the fountain and draw up in a 
 phalanx before the cypresses. They are 
 followed by Chelibi, the Master of the 
 Feast, Samuel Primo, and Nathan of 
 Gaza, who take up their stations round 
 the fountain, among high purple flags 
 and rushes in bloom. Poor Jews begin 
 to enter from without, humbly inclining 
 to the Master of the Feast. Then an old 
 man approaches, receiving every mark of 
 honour. 
 Chelibi. Rabbi-physician, a welcome. We scarcely 
 
 hoped to see Nachmonides. 
 Nachmonides. I am old and feeble ; let me sit by 
 
 L 
 
i62 A MESSIAH [act I. 
 
 your fountain to freshen my weariness. I am 
 exceeding weak. By day and night such concourse 
 of suffering fills my ante-chambers I can eat but 
 one meal for day and night. I lie down, or my 
 sick would consult a corpse ; on my back I 
 prescribe, I talk. When night falls my voice is 
 gone from me ; but many poor mortals are in the 
 way of life and of its holiness — so God has His 
 praise. 
 
 Chelibi. It is regretted by many of our nation that 
 you never converse with the healthy or with those 
 that would have instruction of your wisdom. 
 
 Nachmonides. It would dehght me — it would be a 
 great joy . . . 
 
 [A litter is borne through the archway ; 
 the Maidens half rise, then, perceiving 
 the procession is not yet, they sink down. 
 An old Jew follows his son on the litter. 
 
 Old Jew. Lay the boy down there, he will see 
 all. . . . Woe 's me ! 
 
 [He sits his head between his knees, making 
 low groans. 
 
 Chelibi. Nachmonides would discourse of his 
 science — but there is too much pain ! Well, you 
 have risen up, Nachmonides, from your couch 
 among your sufferers to greet the Bridegroom of 
 Israel. 
 
 Nachmonides. True ! I was eagerly constrained as 
 if my youth returned ; yet I left my precincts full 
 of people. There is a patient of mine ! Poor 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 163 
 
 boy, poor hopeless boy, he has felt the zeal ! He 
 
 is come, as his physician is come. This Sabbatai 
 
 is a magician. 
 
 [Nachmonides raises himself up, dips a 
 howl in the fountain and goes over to the 
 hoy. 
 
 Moses, the evening is hot. Let me freshen your 
 
 lips. . . . For life ! 
 Old Jew. For a happy life ! The lad will not open 
 
 his eyes. 
 Nachmonides. He opens his teeth to the water. 
 Old Jew. He awaits Messiah. 
 Nachmonides. May his Rock keep him ! 
 
 [He returns to the fountain. 
 Chelibi. We are glad you are come to the Feast, 
 
 our good Nachmonides. 
 Nachmonides. I am a believer in marriage, though 
 
 this marriage. . . . Your Queen is not a spotless 
 
 Queen, Master Secretary. She has roamed the 
 
 lands . . . 
 Nathan {tossing his head). She has roved the lands 
 
 seeking him, our heart's need. It was foretold 
 
 her in a dream she should wed Messiah. 
 Primo. She did not recognise Messiah in his majesty, 
 
 she passed by as he was giving alms to a beggar — 
 
 for the Scriptures must be fulfilled. 
 Nachmonides {tapping Primo's hand). But he 
 
 should have recognised her. Master Primo ; he 
 
 should have discovered the spots beneath her gay 
 
 attire. We physicians have cognisance of health 
 
i64 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 and disease. He should have known this woman 
 
 that she was a sinner. 
 RuBio. I am the beggar my Lord gave alms to. 
 
 Did I ask an alms ? He knew me, he recognised 
 
 I was a beggar, and he gave me . . . 
 Nathan. We do not need your testimony. Hosanna 
 
 to him who fills the purse-bag is your testimony. 
 RuBio {not heeding) . He knew I was a beggar and he 
 
 gave me what a beggar needs — a smile. Our lady 
 
 Zarah was passing, she was arrested by that smile. 
 Nachmonides. Or did she stop to win another for 
 
 herself ? We all know Zarah — she would pause 
 
 to admire the action and then dazzle the young 
 
 prophet with her eyes. 
 RuBio. We all know Zarah — the beggar knows her ; 
 
 she is a bounteous lady, well known to the city 
 
 since she landed, yet at times she has fared hard. 
 
 She has been stoned and had to shrink away to the 
 
 beggar's quarters. There Messiah found us. 
 Nachmonides. And there he gave her an alms ? 
 RuBio. He gave her what a man gives a woman ; 
 
 he gave her . . . 
 Primo (coughing). It has been foretold that Messiah 
 
 shall marry a wife of whoredoms. So the Lord 
 
 commanded Hosea. 
 Nachmonides. No precedents, Master Primo, no 
 
 precedents for a miracle. It is the unforeseen, 
 
 the imdivined, the never-to-be-thought of . . . 
 RuBio. Look you — this wedding is no miracle, for 
 
 our pretty lady of Smyrna has her tricks ; but 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 165 
 
 that Messiah should come down and say to me 
 * Son, give me thy heart ' {glancing at Primo) even 
 as it is written in the Scriptures ... 
 Primo. You are a wine-bibber, you are a wine-bibber. 
 You are come here for the wine. Away with your 
 lewdness. You shall not profane our Courts. 
 
 [He strikes Rubio ; there is a hubbub ; 
 again the Virgins rise, startled. 
 Voices. We will put you out of the S37nagogue. 
 You shall not escape us. 
 The Messiah calls Kings. 
 Rubio. He calls beggars and harlots. 
 A Voice (from Ihe litter). Peace, peace ! I have 
 
 heard the Bridegroom's voice — peace ! 
 LiLiTH. Maidens, arise ! 
 
 For he comes — the joy of our eyes ! 
 Rubio. I will greet him with cymbals that clash to 
 the skies ! 
 I will greet his bride, with the wild, free eyes, 
 Zarah, Zarah, the Queen ! 
 Primo. Queen of the South — this too is prophecy. 
 And every Scripture 
 Must be fulfilled, however it degrade 
 The prophet to fulfil it. Presently 
 I take my share in these indignities — 
 Zarah the Queen ! 
 
 [But the slight hnbbub of the hostile band is 
 drowned by the thrilled voices of the 
 Virgins as they crowd to the open, vacant 
 archway. 
 
166 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 Chorus. We are waiting, we are waiting, for the 
 Bridegroom — 
 He loveth me as he loveth none beside ! 
 [They press through the archway singing — 
 then the whole company follows them out. 
 After an interval the cortege appears and 
 Sabbatai enters with Zarah under a 
 canopy : they passs through the court- 
 yard and enter the door of the house ; 
 the crowd that follows remains in the 
 courtyard. The door is shut. 
 Voices. He must remain with us. 
 He is within. 
 It is to see his face. . . . 
 Who shut the door ? 
 We cannot breathe without him. 
 A Woman. Deborah, 
 
 You are breathing roses. 
 Deborah. But he is the rose. 
 
 The rose of Sharon and the Uly's budding. 
 A Voice. Who shut the door ? 
 A Muted Chorus. Our hearts are sore for him ; 
 If he return not, our breath will fail ; 
 Willing we were with him to sail. 
 Through a storm, on a stormy sea ! 
 
 [They prostrate themselves and wail. 
 
 Our garments we rend and spread — 
 
 He leaves us ; we cannot be comforted. . . . 
 
 He leaves us, his people, for one. 
 
SC. 11.] A MESSIAH 167 
 
 He has a fair Bride, and we 
 We are as the sands of the sea ; 
 
 We are as the sand. 
 Will he love us and understand, 
 Though we are as grains in his hand, 
 
 We are one ? 
 
 Whither is he ? — the time is a thousand years. 
 Will he return to us and dry our tears ? 
 He will return ; fall back and worship him, 
 Bum bright, O eyes grown dim ! 
 
 (Sabbatai issues with Zarah and their 
 company. He meets the people with a 
 smile and parted lips. 
 
 Sabbatai. My own beloved, but ye are my chosen ; 
 This is the moment of my triumph — this ! 
 I have heard your crying for me, my beloved, 
 Therefore I am your God. This is the sign ! 
 So long I waited for the sign and knew not 
 If I were chosen of my God ; ye call me, 
 I heard you at my marriage wail for me. 
 The hour is come. . . . Enter my Kingdom, 
 
 enter. 
 Innumerable as the stars ! I see you 
 As in a vision — every lifted heart 
 Is incense to me, as the glowing fields 
 Of tulips glow from heads innumerable. 
 I have created you 
 Simply as God createth the green herb. 
 
i68 A MESSIAH [ACT I. 
 
 Ye are my pleasure and my prophecy, 
 My Chosen ; ye shall never doubt. 
 
 Bear witness, 
 I have lived with you, my multitude, and loved 
 
 you, 
 
 On your many voices I have heard one speech ; 
 I have heard you one by one — the sign 
 Of knowing you is in my heart. You have fed me, 
 From your homes and from your harbour and from 
 
 your streets. 
 Buoying me up as the waves buoy a vessel. 
 Sustaining me. I choose you, 
 My lone, my sorrowful, for I am lonely ; 
 I choose you, O ye poor, for I am rich ; 
 I call you who have never heard a call. 
 Never suspected that God thought on you I 
 O aged, you must put away your age ; 
 
 young men, you must laugh long in your 
 
 youth. 
 Without remembering it will pass and never 
 Will it pass from you. Ye are my disciples 
 Who love your youth and fear it not. Ye sons 
 Of God, ye giants, who behold how lovely 
 A woman is and tremble. Sons, despair not — 
 Deep in the sea I heard you ; at my ear 
 
 1 heard you, as the music of a shell. 
 
 Ye were my music ... I must have musicians. 
 They must be always with me. 
 
 Come, my dearest, 
 And I will make you strong. Such secrets 
 
sc. IL] A MESSIAH 169 
 
 I heard from you. From the unfathomed sea 
 I heard them in my heart. 
 
 Your instruments ! . . . 
 For speech is growing old. 
 
 [He takes a hand of rather sheepish young 
 men apart, touches their instruments and 
 gives instructions for a dance. Sud- 
 denly he looks up from an instrument he 
 is tuning and sees Zarah deserted, her 
 Virgins listless about her. 
 
 Beloved, come ! 
 Eve, Judith, Ruth, Zarah — daughters. 
 Daughters of Zion, on my marriage-day 
 Desire hath reached deliverance. 
 
 Ye remember 
 How Zion sigheth in captivity. . . . 
 But now her shroud is Hfted from the garments 
 Of her delight ; the ashes 
 Bedust no more the roses of her chaplet ; 
 The bitter myrtles ring with chips of gold ; 
 For she shall sigh no more. 
 
 Virgins and youths, 
 Ye shall rejoice. Come, Hillel, Absalom ! 
 No more ye dance in parted bands, together 
 Ye dance . . . 
 
 [He pauses in a hush of joy as the hands 
 of youths and maidens unite in the 
 dance. 
 The ryhthm breaks ! . . . 
 
 O Zarah, see ! 
 
I/O A MESSIAH [ACT I. 
 
 One riseth not, this cripple riseth not ; 
 He is left out . . . 
 
 [Sabbatai runs to the boy and lifts Mm by 
 his hands. 
 
 Rise, for you must, dear lad ! 
 How strong, how lithe ! 
 
 [He joins the boy's hands with Rachel's ; 
 the old father falls flat on his face. 
 Now it is full — there is no dissonance. 
 
 [He gives his hands to Zarah. 
 Zarah — your face ! How many summer days. 
 And lighting of the rose-light on the dawn. 
 Thou hast gathered for me in this moment's 
 
 face. 
 Thou canst not speak . . . hush, hush ! 
 Move to the sound. [He leads her to the dance. 
 Primo. a miracle ! Bear witness ! 
 
 Summon the Master of the Feast, go, summon 
 
 Chelibi. 
 A miracle ! You saw, Nachmonides ? 
 Nachmonides. I am a doctor ; this boy had not a 
 soimd limb of his body. Sabbatai has made him 
 skip. Skip, Moses, skip ! This Sabbatai, this 
 beautiful young man, has the breath of God mov- 
 ing him, as in a dream, to power. It is an adorable 
 nature ! May the young Rabbi be Messiah in- 
 deed ! He shows us most continent faith toward 
 God, even God our Health. It rejoices me to see 
 his day. 
 Nathan. A miracle — that is what imports us. A 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 171 
 
 miracle ! He hath done wonders as the chosen of 
 God, foretold by the Ancient Script — En-Soph, 
 the Son of Heaven ! 
 
 Nachmonides. Peace, peace ! Each acclamation 
 of the deed of faith does harm to the doer. Less 
 absolute becomes in the Creature his frankness 
 with God his Creator. Keep silence, as ye love 
 SabbataL {To the boy's father.) Old man, watch 
 your son and weep for joy. 
 
 O Nathan Ghazati, you are young ; the voice in 
 you is not that of the white-haired whose lips are as 
 old instruments mellow. Do not speak when the 
 lips move ; do not speak till the heart has brooded 
 on the voice between its wings. [Exit. 
 
 Nathan. Does he think the mumblings of age trans- 
 form the world and proclaim power and empire ? 
 Does the Son of Heaven want piping greybeards 
 to go before him ? 
 Here is a miracle ! 
 
 Primo. It shall be written to every country of the 
 Jews* Dispersion. All shall rejoice. 
 
 [Chelibi advances. 
 
 Nathan. Chelibi, O Saraph-Bashi, a miracle ! 
 
 Chelibi. That my house should be so honoured ! 
 
 Primo (catching Moses). This impotent boy is danc- 
 ing like Hillel. 
 
 Moses. I am dancing, dancing ; I am whole — I 
 leap 
 Crag to crag, as David when he kept the sheep. 
 You shall not stay me. 
 
172 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 Primo. But the Master's fame. 
 
 Moses. I yield my limbs — feel them, examine, show 
 them. 
 Beckon ! — but surely none will leave the 
 dance ! 
 
 Chelibi. Ah, stripling, there is nothing men will not 
 flee from more quickly than their peculiar happi- 
 ness. They will leave it for misfortune, for an 
 accident, for any promise of a spectacle ; they will 
 leave it for the dear misery each man craves to hug 
 to his bosom as his own ; and for sake of a miracle 
 . . . were it only to see little worms in feathers, 
 they would cross the ocean. 
 
 Nathan {in a shout). A miracle, a miracle 1 Come 
 and behold ! 
 
 Chelibi. Look, look ! 
 
 [The dance breaks up and a crowd gathers. 
 
 Old Jew (stroking his son's feet). I am his father, 
 I am proud of him. 
 God gave him strength to dance at the Great 
 Feast. 
 
 Primo. It was Sabbatai that wrought the miracle, 
 you fool ! Sabbatai is shown forth as Messiah. I 
 will write it to all lands. ' Then shall the lame 
 leap as an hart ' — Every Scripture fulfilled ! 
 
 Voices. A work of God ! 
 Sabbatai is Messiah. 
 He heals diseases. 
 He will heal God's people. 
 
 A Sephardi. These limbs are good as my son's — 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 173 
 
 the pride of the port, when he shoulders his figs — 
 Valorea's. 
 Another. Come, let us see you caper. 
 
 [A break in the circle discovers Sabbatai 
 and Zarah at rest under rose-trees. 
 Sabbatai [as he fans her with a great fan of feathers) . 
 
 They all desert Messiah. 
 Zarah. All but Zarah — 
 
 She cannot ; she is happy as a leaf 
 On the stream's journey ; she is borne along. 
 
 \The dancers close round. 
 
 Enter a train of Ambassadors. Perplexed they pass to 
 the group in the centre and bow to MosES 
 
 Ambassadors. We come from many lands, 
 We come, gifts in our hands ; 
 They are gifts from our lands — all lands 
 Are his ; we are his bands. 
 And the chosen people he commands. 
 Moses [in terror) . O Kings, 
 
 I am not the Messiah. 
 Primo. From afar 1 
 
 Take heed, good Smy mites, it comes to pass, 
 Kings from afar ! 
 
 [The Ambassadors have been gravely un- 
 packing their perfumes and treasure. 
 Rubio staggers to the group. 
 Primo. But where is the Messiah ? 
 
174 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 RuBio. Where is Messiah ? — drinking, he is drunk ; 
 I found him by the wine-jars. 
 
 [The Ambassadors give a little start and 
 instinctively clutch at their rich vessels. 
 Primo. * By the wine-jars, 
 
 Drunken, but not with wine, but not as Noah . . . 
 Nathan. With wine of prophecy. 
 Primo (low to Nathan). But how it sways — 
 
 This throne on which they have exalted him ! 
 
 [Sabbatai is home forward on a throne. 
 He carries the great fan of feathers. 
 Zarah and the Virgins follow dancing. 
 Sabbatai's kinsfolk are round him, 
 acclaiming. 
 Kinsfolk. Messiah, Messiah, we bow the knee ! 
 At the sight of him our vision swims ; 
 There is scent of gold about his limbs ! 
 He is Messiah — and my cousin too ! 
 Joseph, you drank the wine. . . . The wine is 
 
 new. 
 Enthrone him, he is true, 
 Messiah ! We smell the gold in him ! 
 Gold as the Golden Seraphim 
 That covered the Ark is he, 
 And we are his kin and we 
 Shall have of his riches. See ! 
 These gifts ; we are all of his fold. 
 We shall do as he biddeth us. Behold, 
 It is lapis lazuli I 
 
 [They set down Sabbatai, enthroned. 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 175 
 
 Moses, fixing doubtful eyes on Sab- 
 
 BATAi, hobbles back towards his litter. 
 
 Sabbatai (greeting the Ambassadors with exultation). 
 
 Come to me, happy kings, come to me, brethren ! 
 
 (To his Kinsfolk.) And you too shall be kings, all 
 
 kings, each one. 
 (To Ambassadors.) You must be kings, you offer 
 
 gifts — and these. 
 These must be kings, for they have greedy eyes 
 For incense and for gold. Good Rubio, 
 The Ambassadors are thirsty ; they must drink. 
 Lade the young slaves with goblets. And mean- 
 while 
 I will distribute gifts. I am Messiah 
 Simply because my gifts transcend your gifts. 
 I have the sky, the stars to give. 
 
 [Glancing at the choir of Virgins. 
 The pearls 
 Of the midmost caverns — I can see the pearls 
 Each crescive in its shell. 
 
 [Restraining his Kinsfolk who are greedily 
 handling the treasure of the Ambassadors. 
 No, no ! my manners ! 
 These, these are mine — this incense . . . 
 
 [Rising and addressing the Ambassadors. 
 Greeks, Arabians — 
 Far-travelled people, who in rocks and caverns 
 And in thick-peopled cities have had token. 
 As the tokens of an earthquake in your hearts, 
 That ye should come to me — I have been with you 
 
176 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 In prison and in sorrow. One by one 
 
 As if you were my flock I have succoured you. 
 
 I know you, some of you most faithful, some 
 
 Most ignorant. Some are there that believe 
 
 And some believe not. . . . Yea, it is not that ; 
 
 My world, my starry multitudes, ye love me, 
 
 Ye have desired me from the ends of time. 
 
 Infinite is my love to you, the beating 
 
 Of my heart to own you all. From many lands 
 
 Ye bring me each the riches of your lands. 
 
 And the peculiar treasure . . . 
 
 [Laying a vase of perfume beside him, after 
 deeply snuffing it. 
 
 But this perfume 
 Is strange to me, as perfume should be strange, 
 A novelty as welcome as an old, 
 Delicious memory. Gems, carbimcles — 
 These all for me, my wearing and my glory. 
 {Smiling.) No crown that I shall ever give away. 
 Or weary of, or lose. Unguents and herbs ! 
 Where is Nachmonides ? 
 
 [Primo hastily approaches Sabbatai and 
 whispers. 
 
 Primo (withdrawing) . Balms, lusty bundles 
 
 That carry hfe. 
 
 Sabbatai. I cannot use them — healing 
 
 Is with me ; I am Health. And here is gold ! 
 
 [He shivers before a great block of gold. 
 
 Rub 10. Master, they will think you drunk if you 
 stare so excessively. 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 177 
 
 SabbataL More wine, good Rubio — 
 
 More wine ! Remove that block. Idolaters, 
 That is the golden calf and it will crush you 
 To atoms if you fall and worship it. 
 Now for my gifts ! Elias Zevi, you. 
 First of my brethren, I name King of Kings ; 
 You, Joseph Zevi ... it has slipped my brain 
 What you inherit . . . 
 
 [The Ambassadors are now deeply drinking. 
 King of Judah's King ! 
 And Isaac Silvera . . . 
 
 [Putting his hand to his brow. 
 Ah, now it is all plain ; in thee 
 I find the Soul of David and thy Kingdom 
 Is therefore Persia. England I appoint 
 To thee, Mokiah Caspar, for no reason 
 But that thou art an ass — inspired 
 By stubbornness to thwart men from their doom. 
 It must be that . . . the rest is in a vision 
 Of eagles and their young. 
 
 Nathan. He prophesies ! 
 
 All ears ! Attention ! It is prophecy 
 When animals grow wings — Leviathan 
 Wrinkles the waves and the ox turns himself 
 Slowly as if revolving on a wheel. 
 
 [He strains to hear more, 
 
 SabbataL To Chelibi, 
 
 My well-beloved King Joash, Egypt, Egypt, 
 With Nile in perpetuity. For Nathan 
 Red-sanded Barbary. 
 
 M 
 
178 A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 Nathan {prostrating himself). Malka Kadisha, hail, 
 
 Most holy King, Messiah ! 
 SabbataL Jeroboam — 
 
 There is no place ; it is the Vizirs now ; 
 
 Smaller they get and smaller, till the last 
 
 Is of no size at all ; but every king 
 
 Shall have a Vizir. . . . You are all content ? 
 RuBio. I am not content. Master ; I am your beggar 
 
 and you have given me nothing. 
 
 [Sabbatai rises from his throne, gapes and 
 lays a hand on Rubio's shoulder. 
 Sabbatai. For you the whole 
 
 Of Lebanon, this Smyrna . . . Turkey. All 
 
 The earth I will apportion. . . . But the people ! 
 
 They too must have a kingdom — Paradise, 
 
 The Heaven, my kingdom. Lo, 
 
 This fan ... I waft it ! Moses — ah, no rod ! 
 
 A miracle of laughter — 
 
 Pure laughter to you all, pure divination ! 
 
 Touch it, my people — the least waft 
 
 Of its feathers on your cheek and ye are saved. 
 
 Saved ! The long faces widen into smiles. . . . 
 
 Grave Rabbis, ye shall leap. My kingdom 
 
 Is come when ye shall tuck the scrolls of Law 
 
 Under your arms and dance. The s5^agogues 
 
 Must skip as the little hills. 
 
 My fan, my fan ! 
 
 Old men, this fairy touch 
 
 To thrill your wrinkles ! Mothers, no more care ; 
 
 Your sons are glorious, and I am your son — 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 179 
 
 To each of you Messiah. Virgins, Virgins, 
 
 The butterflies light thus! . . . Saved, saved, 
 Rebecca ! 
 
 Hillel . . . ha, ha ! . . . and Primo . . . 
 
 [There is a solemn, smiling tumult as the 
 people sway up to the fan tipped toward 
 them. Meanwhile the kings have fallen 
 into violent quarrelling ; in their heat 
 they strike and hustle each other. One 
 precious jar of ointment is shattered. 
 The Ambassadors anxiously collect their 
 treasure, protecting their offerings with 
 their arms. Weary at last, Sabbatai 
 turns to his empty throne ; the long fan 
 droops restlessly as he stands on the 
 steps, struck by the sight of Zarah. 
 
 My beloved, 
 
 My kingdom ! You are speechless as a rose. 
 
 How I can deck you ! 
 
 Your eyes are set as jewels on this fabric. 
 
 How t can deck you ! 
 
 [He holds out his hands to the Ambassadors 
 who fill them with necklets and amulets. 
 
 The mines are shaking to unearth their gems, 
 
 And Araby and India. I groan ! 
 
 I am a god, and a god must not worship. 
 
 [He slowly decks Zarah with pearl-ropes 
 and with earrings, sighing. 
 
 But yet this perfect stillness ; as a star 
 
 Drops in the lake this pearl is on your bosom. 
 
i8o A MESSIAH [act i. 
 
 I am now as I rose up from the sea, 
 
 And had no voice. . . . Wondering, I reached my 
 
 kingdom. 
 {Turning to the Ambassadors.) This is my Bride. 
 
 She is prepared, adorned. 
 It is to me as she came down from heaven. 
 It is to me a miracle. Behold her ! 
 This is the very city of our God — 
 The secret that I whisper . . . this is Zion. 
 (To Nathan (3!w^ Primo.) Softly . . . bring hither 
 
 my disciples. . . . Fair 1 
 How fair — my dove of the rocks' clefts ! 
 Secret to me . . . but manifest to these. 
 
 [In the growing dusk the band of young 
 disciples is faintly seen ; recognisable, 
 Sabbatai stands apart as before a 
 vision. 
 
sc. I.] A MESSIAH i8i 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene I 
 
 The seashore beyond Smyrna. On the stony coast 
 oleanders press their bloom together. It is dawn. 
 A tally winged, glancing figure is facing the edges 
 of the waves beside Sabbatai. 
 
 Sabbatai (stopping ; then turning to front the figure). 
 
 Who art thou ? 
 The Figure. Gabriel. 
 
 Sabbatai. Oh, then, thou bringest tidings of my 
 God: 
 
 Thou art ever in His presence. 
 The Figure. Thou art closer 
 
 To Him than I. He feeds thee from His fountains. 
 Sabbatai. From the most secret places of the rocks 
 
 With the water that sprang forth at Moses' stroke. 
 
 Angel, I cannot show the world this fountain ; 
 
 It makes green, silent pastures in my heart, 
 
 The song that beamed through David's blood, the 
 springtide 
 
 That blossoms through these withies as a rose. 
 
 I have no speech — I am where silence is — 
 
i82 A MESSIAH [act ll. 
 
 I never have revealed myself, except 
 
 By rising from the sea, as the sun rises 
 
 Apparent on his journey with no sound. 
 
 I have no voice. . . . Can there be voices, angel, 
 
 For anything we feel, our sleep, our waking, 
 
 The changes in us when we love, we die ? 
 
 I have no tongue — 
 
 My hour is secret . . . and the world athirst. 
 
 The Figure. Speak, O Messiah, what is in your 
 heart ! 
 This perfect morning God would have you choose, 
 Taking no counsel, your devoted path, 
 As birds raise up their wings. 
 
 Sabbatai. If He had told me ! 
 
 What need, O Gabriel, you should leave His throne 
 If this had welled up in me ? 
 
 The Figure. It has welled — 
 
 That thou shouldst sail in a Saic barque. 
 Garnished with gold that men may mark ; 
 Shouldst sail away to the Soldan's lamd. 
 And to sound of shawms take in thy hand 
 The crown of the world from the Soldan's head, 
 Thyself being crowned and no blood shed. 
 No crying from those that are slaughtered, 
 And no silence from those that are dead. 
 Atone, that for thy tarrying and thy doubt 
 I left God's presence. 
 
 Sabbatai. Hie thee to the Throne. 
 My dream is given me. I will go alone 
 To the sound of music 
 
SC. I.] A MESSIAH 183 
 
 The Figure. No, Messiah, thou 
 
 Must lead the people to thy music now. 
 Call the Musicians — 
 
 Call the Mariners . . . 
 
 [The Figure vanishes. 
 Sabbatai (extending his arm toward the sea), God, 
 thou hast sent thy Angel Gabriel 
 To quicken me : Thou grievest me in this. 
 Thou sendest forth thy messengers to men 
 To warn them or forbid : to thine elect 
 Thou art as the sparkle in the diamond. 
 That has no entrance . . . 
 
 [Nachmonides, in his black cloak and 
 turban, comes along the shore with feeble 
 steps. Sabbatai meets him. 
 
 Ah, Nachmonides ! 
 I could embrace these towers of rose. 
 
 [Pointing to the shrubs. 
 
 What breath 
 
 Of roses and death and nard ! — I have my dream. 
 
 Nachmonides. Rabbi, we have seen your faith : 
 
 what is your dream ? 
 Sabbatai. Messiah's dream — to live the prophecies. 
 Nachmonides. Messiah is the whole of the prophe- 
 cies. Think not of fulfilment if indeed you are 
 chosen. Rabbi, do not tempt God. Prophecies 
 come unto men — the cranes fly back to announce 
 the spring, but spring appears when the hour is 
 come. What joy of face you have ! Can pro- 
 phecies awake such dominion ? 
 
i84 A MESSIAH [ACT li. 
 
 Sabbatai. The prophecy of Nathan — 
 That I shall take the world with harmony 
 From all the instruments of string and vent, 
 Issuing their deep compulsion ; that the Soldan 
 Shall let my hands discrown him, as the year. 
 With horns, with blaring trumpet, abdicates 
 To the new year of time. I sail, Nachmonides. 
 God bids me sail — sail with dispassioned music — 
 Then lead the Soldan captive to the river 
 Sabbation, then lead my people homeward 
 To Holy Land. . . . It is the prophecy. 
 
 Nachmonides. But where are the words of the an- 
 tique prophets ? Is there in Torah the naming 
 of your river Sabbation ? Elijah, Isaiah ! What 
 have they to do with the Soldan Mohammed ? 
 What with Nathan Ghazati ? 
 
 Sabbatai. The Kabbala, Nachmonides, to me 
 Is more profoundly open than to any, 
 Even than to Chayim Vital : it foretells 
 The triumph of the Holy King, my triumph. 
 You are a Talmudist — your eyes are blind. 
 
 Nachmonides. Ah, Rabbi — that book of destruction, 
 that nurse of falsehood, your Kabbala — would 
 you had never unrolled it ! 
 
 Sabbatai. Never without the treasures of its sea 
 Had I been called and given the voice of God ! 
 Why take my spirit from me, unbeliever ? 
 Why come on gladness as deficiency ? 
 Go to your sick ! Farewell, Nachmonides. 
 
 Nachmonides. God's blessing preserve you, Rabbi ! 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 185 
 
 Nachmonides may be a vain babbler till he lie 
 down among his patients ; but, stretched on his 
 back, he would praise you as full of life, yet warn 
 you as nourishing death — to his subtle eyesight 
 even at this moment unconcealed — he would 
 instruct of the remedies, as thus : to stay in 
 Smyrna, to put a foot on no vessel for any port ; 
 to bum your Kabbala with flame of fire, and let 
 the light within you shine out as a pharos. 
 
 Sabbatai. God's angel has been with me out of 
 heaven : 
 As from God's lips I am breathed on for this sail- 
 ing. 
 The stress of Gabriel's pinion bore my doom. 
 
 Nachmonides. I would I were laid on my back ; 
 but behold, I am standing on feeble legs — and 
 Messiah needs no physician. Well, Rabbi, God 
 be with you ! 
 
 Scene II 
 Smyrna. 
 
 Outside Chelibi's house. To the left the last column 
 of the portico stands out against sea and sky from 
 the wall of the house itself that makes an angle. 
 In the thickness of this wall a narrow door is 
 just seen. A table stands in the shade of the 
 house. From the column toward the right, a low 
 marble wall with a marble seat along it runs in 
 
i86 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 front of the sea till it is suddenly broken by a gap 
 through which steps descend to the port. The wall 
 is continued to the extreme right, where the topmost 
 sails of a vessel rise, half furled and golden, from 
 the water below. Sabbatai lies along the seat 
 under the column, lazing with the sea. In the 
 court, under the further portion of the marble wall 
 a group of children is in the midst of a game. 
 One of the children steals up. 
 
 Child. Play with us, lord. You are dull, left alone. 
 
 Play with us ! 
 Sabbatai. Shall I be your king ? 
 
 Child. If you will watch us running races — 
 
 If you will give us crowns . . . 
 Sabbatai. You choose — ? 
 
 [The children gather round him and speak 
 in chorus. 
 Children. We choose you for our king, 
 
 We choose you ! 
 
 We will bring you in our hands 
 
 The Httle tortoise for caressing, 
 
 And to receive your blessing. 
 
 We will take you by the hand 
 
 To see where the tall swans stand. 
 
 Have you guessed 
 
 Where is their nest ? 
 
 We will draw you into our own land. 
 
 You shall watch with us where blue larks in the 
 sky 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 187 
 
 Cease to sing ; 
 
 We will leave you — and by-and-by 
 
 Rush down on you with a cry. 
 
 It shall rock in the palace as if the stones should 
 
 cry, 
 For you are our king, 
 We choose you, 
 And we love you best : 
 You shall play with us for ever, 
 We will not loose you, 
 We love you best. 
 Sabbatai [caressing the children) . Fetch me the little 
 tortoise — Chayim, you ! 
 It shall receive my blessing. 
 
 [The lad runs off. 
 Zeuna, keep 
 For me the secret where the swan has built 
 Her nest. . . . Come hither, little ones ! 
 
 [He feeds them with Turkish Delight. 
 What chicks . . . what httle, lusting mouths. 
 Smeared with the sweet, and happy. . . . More, 
 but more ! 
 
 [Nathan Ghazati enters with the Kings 
 Isaac Silvera and Mokiah Caspar, 
 who retire sullenly to the seat above the 
 vessel, while Nathan stands before 
 Sabbatai. The children play a little 
 with Sabbatai's fingers and fringes — 
 then shyly creep away. 
 Nathan. Master, what has not been revealed to 
 
i88 A MESSIAH [act li. 
 
 these babes, has been revealed to me. You must 
 start this day. The Children of the Promise 
 must be led to their Kingdom. Lo, the Lion of 
 Judah in a hght skiff, sets sail in my vision : 
 the sea is wide, 'mid the aura from the sea a moon 
 in its last quarter and crowned above its crescent 
 is sinking for ever. The waves of the wide sea 
 are churned by the vessel. You must start 
 to-day. 
 Sabbatai {drawing Nathan down beside him). 
 Your eyes are full of spotted fire, my Nathan ! 
 How can I start till the false prophet come 
 I have commanded to my royal presence ? 
 Your vision signs not of to-day — to-morrow 
 I sail, nor leave an enemy behind, 
 Even with a dream in front. 
 
 How fresh the waves ! 
 How fresh they curl along, how exquisite 
 This waiting is — as when a rose-tree waits 
 The breath and the disparting of the rose ! 
 Do not the waves fold over, fold aside 
 To whisper one another of this voyage ? 
 What buoyancy is in them, a delight 
 As buoyant to my limbs as they would bear 
 
 me 
 Without a ship to haven . . . 
 
 [He turns, taking a fresh position as he 
 picks little stones from the wall. 
 Exquisite 
 This waiting, this delay ! No more to do 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 189 
 
 Than the children playing yonder. Though the 
 
 city 
 Be thronged and bustling and the people mad, 
 No matter ! Infinite in blue 
 The dawning, infinite the eve in light. 
 
 [Nathan rises impatiently as Primo 
 enters from the house with two 
 Poles. 
 Primo. These worthy men, Isaiah Levi and Leb 
 
 Hertz . . . 
 Sabbatai {embracing them). But we remember. . . . 
 Welcome, brethren, welcome ! 
 Are you not sent by Nehemiah Cohen ? 
 Does he obey our mandate ? 
 1ST Pole. We are his heralds. He accepts with 
 delight your invitation. He would see you, for 
 we have described to him your glory ; we re- 
 counted to him the miracle. 
 Sabbatai. What miracle ? 
 
 2ND Pole. The marvellous help you afforded the 
 Jews of Jerusalem, paying the full impost out of 
 Egypt as from your own purse. 
 Sabbatai [smiling). You are believers ? 
 1ST Pole. We would be believers in the true Messiah. 
 We would hear. Nehemiah is very learned in 
 dispute — he is solid. 
 
 [Primo is summoned within. 
 Sabbatai [clouding). We will set his doubts at rest. 
 He shall be our forerunner, our herald — not our 
 enemy. 
 
I90 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 (To the Kings Isaac Silvera and Mokiah Gaspar). 
 Accompany these strangers to my ship. There is 
 the miracle ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Nathan [hiding his face on the wall). O Master, you 
 are my despair ! On me the burthen ! I curse 
 you as I should curse the child unravelling a 
 drag-net for the waters. Rabbi, you will ruin me 
 in your ruin. All your Kings are in revolt. 
 
 SABBATAif (stroking Nathan's head). I do not love 
 my Kings, my black-haired, my beloved. 
 
 Nathan. If you loved me — if you knew. . . . 
 Master, for two hours I have been soothing the 
 Kings, I have been describing to them their 
 dominions that you might not be tortured. All 
 I can say to them now but incites them. Your 
 mariners curse you on the beach. 
 
 Sabbatai. Nathan has cursed me. 
 
 Nathan. I have cursed your mariners ! I tell you 
 there is treason in the port. The city is weary of 
 you ; you are a fly sticking in its honey. These 
 sleek Poles to whom you are so soft, speak of 
 another Messiah, who comes with the keen lips of 
 a sword. . . . Master, we are a downtrodden 
 people : we may not walk the streets save in the 
 badge of our shame, we may not deck our wives, 
 we may not make beautiful our houses or lift our 
 voices from their roofs in psalmody. Are you not 
 a Jew ? But you do not feel the deep rancour 
 in your heart. You make terms with the English 
 merchants — they approve you as honest. You 
 
sc. IT.] A MESSIAH 191 
 
 make terms, you palter, you are inexorable. 
 When Messiah comes he will strike upward as 
 with a people from underground . . . 
 
 [Chelibi approaches. 
 
 Sabbatai. I am being chidden, Chelibi. 
 
 Chelibi. Our good prophet is impatient, but his 
 impatience is honourable. Your train is very 
 burdensome to Smyrna. Kings without kingdoms 
 are a very troublesome kind of kings — they make 
 subjects of every honest citizen. They sweep up 
 tribute, and the traffic of the bazaars is stopped. 
 Our little Smyrna is incommoded ; and to speak 
 truth, there is nothing so incommodious as a 
 project. I would have you leave, dear Rabbi, 
 before the Cadi and his Turkish officers force you 
 to leave us. Be advised. 
 
 Sabbatai. Chelibi, Nehemiah is at our gates ; you 
 are hospitable. Did you not provide my marriage- 
 feast ? Nehemiah has travelled very far at my 
 bidding. Go within, prepare the table for my foe. 
 
 [Exit Chelibi within. 
 [Sabbatai turns dreamily to the sea and 
 whistles — then turns to Nathan. 
 If this should be Messiah— Ephraim Messiah, the 
 forerunner ! I shall know when I see him ! 
 I shall know if he is beloved of God. He says I 
 have had no forerunner — that is true . . . 
 
 Nathan {shaking his fist at Sabbatai). You have 
 called me your Elijah, you have said. . . . But I 
 will defeat this Nehemiah, I will defeat his wiles. 
 
192 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 There cannot be two forerunners, two Elijahs, two 
 Ephraim-Messiahs. I will make merry with this 
 squat-faced German. I will make him foolish in 
 your presence. 
 
 Sabbatal Dear Nathan, if he hate me, I shall laugh 
 at him. I do not laugh at my lovers. It is 
 serious if any man love me ; and he becomes of 
 account at once. 
 
 {To Primo who approaches bowing very low). 
 No, Primo, I will not see the Rabbis from Jerusa- 
 lem — 
 No, nor the deputation from Cairo — 
 No, nor the inquirers from Pesth — 
 No, nor the meddlesome flatterers from Spain, 
 I will not see them. Leave me ! 
 
 Primo {bowing more low). Master, it is I, your 
 anxious secretary and your devoted servant — I 
 present myself humbly to remind you that it 
 is the year of millennium, that the year has 
 dawned. 
 
 Nathan. It is the year of millennium . . . 
 
 Sabbatal Then it is millennium as harvest-time is 
 harvest. . . . Let me be at peace. 
 
 [Primo goes back three steps, then turns. 
 
 Primo. Master, I have told your mariners it is the 
 year of the millennium, and they aver the wind is 
 most favourable — a choice wind, but a tempo- 
 rary ... 
 
 Sabbatal The wind is too favourable, I would start 
 in a western gale. . Primo stands. 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 193 
 
 Primo. An officer from the Cadi awaits your leisure. 
 
 SabbataL Leisure — but is not a god all leisure ? 
 Is not a god always at his ease ? You suppose 
 him all ear ! — meanwhile he conducts his car 
 through the heavens. 
 
 Primo (more stolidly). The Cadi demands that in 
 three days you set sail. 
 
 SabbataL Would he break the poise of the millen- 
 nium with a threat ? Send away these mal- 
 contents, tell them all things are possible with 
 God. Send them away — let them broider banners, 
 let them broider banners with the word Millennium 
 writ large. 
 
 Primo. And the behevers . . . 
 
 SabbataL The beUevers are maddening me ! But 
 my ship ! I will go down to the quay. They 
 have brought her round. 
 
 Primo. Nehemiah ? 
 
 [Shaking himself free, Sabbatai descends 
 the steps. The lad Chayim, with a 
 tortoise in his arms, looks round the 
 square, catches sight of Sabbatai and 
 runs after him. 
 
 Nathan. So God eludes us ! And I stretched forth 
 my arms to him. 
 
 Primo. He should prepare — he should turn to the 
 Kabbala, the Tahnud, all the Holy Books ; this 
 German comes to prove him vain by texts and 
 long disputations. But I forget ! He is Messiah 
 and furnished of God. I must satisfy the officer, 
 
 N 
 
194 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 I must satisfy the deputations, as if I had bread to 
 
 give them. 
 
 [RuBio slides up with a hag of money and 
 a crate of Syrian apples. He lays them 
 down and offers an apple to Primo. 
 RuBio. A fruit ! 
 Primo. Put it down ; these are offerings to 
 
 God. 
 RuBio [chewing). The Master does not eat. 
 Primo. And this sack of treasure ? 
 RuBio. That too is an offering. 
 Primo. O beggar Rubio, and the Master does not 
 
 prize it ! 
 Rubio. That is the Master's weakness. Treasure is 
 
 treasure. The Lord God hid his treasure in the 
 
 bowels of the earth ; we touch his secret when we 
 
 discover gold. 
 Primo. No, Rubio, God's secret is his Messiah. 
 Rubio. The Messiah is the key that unlocks His 
 
 secret. 
 Primo. You have no sign — save the sign of the 
 
 prophet Jonah, the whale — the infinite capacity of 
 
 swallowing. 
 Rubio. Who, then, is the wonder-worker — Jonah or 
 
 the whale ? 
 Primo. Answer as you will after your kind. But 
 
 treaisure is treasure — there you have said the word. 
 
 {Exit, snatching the sack. 
 [Rubio advances to Nathan, his hands open. 
 Nathan. Still at your old occupation ? 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 195 
 
 RuBio. Still at my old occupation ! No treasure 
 for me ! Give me my kingdom, give me Turkey — 
 Turkey in Europe and Turkey in Asia, they are 
 both mine, and I have refused a thousand pounds 
 for each. 
 
 Nathan. A fool and his kingdoms ! Peace, beggar ! 
 
 RuBio. If nothing is to alter . . . and I hear there 
 is much disputing whether the Master even has 
 power to sweep away the great Fast-day — it has 
 set up a party against him and men grumble — if 
 we are to suffer in our stomachs and for our sins, 
 well . . . 
 
 [Zarah is come out of the house in royal 
 apparel. 
 Let us serve the Queen, the Queen of Pleasure, 
 who moves among men with no denial on her lips ! 
 Let me have alms of the Queen ! 
 
 [He holds up his hands to her. 
 
 Zarah. Rubio, dear Rubio — what were you saying 
 — there is disaffection in the city ? 
 
 Nathan. They say Sabbatai is no Messiah — there 
 must be a forerunner, the light of the morning-star 
 must shine before the morning. Nehemiah pro- 
 claims himself this forerunner. He does not know 
 I am Elijah, grown young to proclaim the Anointed 
 King to all the Kings of the world and to all the 
 peoples. 
 
 Zarah. Nathan, you are that prophet ; but Nehe^ 
 miah is the forerunner of Sabbatai — the poor and 
 humble Messiah who comes to make ready the 
 
196 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 great advent. He is the forerunner ; we appoint 
 him that. 
 
 Nathan. Ah — guile of a woman ! we shall appoint 
 him that. We shall give him the title. 
 
 RuBio. Have you noticed he makes the Master 
 uneasy ? 
 
 Zarah. O Rubio, yes. Sabbatai is of so meek a 
 spirit he doubts if he is chosen. And to doubt if 
 one is chosen. ... If he were confident as 1 1 
 Rubio, in the cloister, when I was but a little 
 stubborn thing of six, I said to the nuns, * I am 
 the bride of God.' When our Lord rose from the 
 sea he had no higher exaltation. One can 
 adventure all things, if it is firm in one's heart like 
 that. 
 
 [Nehemiah Cohen and his attendants 
 approach across the court, travel-stained. 
 
 Nathan. Peace, Nehemiah ! 
 
 [Zarah lifts the golden cymbals that hang 
 from her girdle. 
 
 Zarah. I acclaim you ! 
 
 I have acclaimed you long. O grief 
 That you delayed ! You are put high among 
 The prophets : Nehemiah, you are strong ; 
 We are waiting for your voice, there is a song 
 So soft we cannot hear it, till among 
 The waters of the valley. Come, O Chief, 
 Make straight the pathway for the world's belief — 
 Prepare men on the earth for Paradise. 
 
 Nehemiah. Lady, I am 
 
SC. IL] A MESSIAH 197 
 
 The Lord's forerunner ; rightly you rejoice ; 
 I am the Lord's forerunner, and to death 
 Will serve and follow him. When I shall see him, 
 I shall determine if your lord is he. 
 
 [Looking round keenly. 
 Let him be summoned ... for he is not here. 
 
 Nathan. But you cannot judge, you cannot de- 
 termine. It is for our Lord to judge you and to 
 appoint you ! 
 
 Nehemiah. I am not here to take favour of your 
 
 Master ; I am here to put your Master to the test. 
 
 [Zarah has retired, but now advances with 
 
 a little dish of grapes and wine — a slave 
 
 follows with basin, ewer and towels. 
 
 Zarah. You are weary ; eat, refresh yourself. We 
 must abide our Lord's pleasure. He will return 
 when he will. Meanwhile, you must refresh 
 yourself. {To attendants.) Bring water ! 
 
 Nehemiah {unnerved). Not you . . . the slaves ! 
 
 Zarah. I am his Queen and you are a guest long- 
 honoured, long-expected, long-foretold, long- 
 waited for ! {Pouring water on his feet.) He bade 
 me honour and give you comfort. You have 
 travelled far ! 
 
 Nehemiah. This lady is his wife ? 
 
 Zarah {laughing) . Oh, if a prophet — 
 
 Can you not instantly discern, and would 
 One whom he did not honour as his spouse 
 Stoop thus, thus condescend ? 
 
 Nehemiah. You are beautiful 
 
198 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 And gracious — and there women have an end. 
 My thanks . . . and pass within. 
 Zarah. But you will eat ; 
 
 But you are weary, and I am your hostess. 
 Speak to me of your journey. 
 Nehemiah. If your lord 
 
 Be true Messiah I abide your servant ; 
 Ifnot . . . 
 Zarah. What faith 
 
 You have, what knowledge ! You will be his 
 
 servant 
 On the instant when you see him. You were mine 
 On the instant when you saw me. 
 
 [She offers him grapes one by one, checking 
 
 him with the fruit when he strives to speak. 
 
 Nathan. Dare you question, 
 
 Dare you deny our holy Lord ? 
 Nehemiah [roughly and vehemently rising) . Deny him! 
 
 I find him not in Torah nor in Talmud. 
 Nathan. Nor in the Sacred Kabbala ? 
 Nehemiah. The law 
 
 And prophets being dumb, your Kabbala 
 
 Is rhapsody ' 
 
 Nathan. Cristallomantia never 
 
 Showed clearer what should be to the purged eyes. 
 [Sabbatai has entered, climbing listlessly 
 up in front of the Poles. Suddenly he 
 rushes towards Nehemiah, catches him 
 by the shoulders, drinks in his nature 
 with one grip of scrutiny — and then 
 flings him away, laughing long. 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 199 
 
 Sabbatai. No, this is not Messiah — feel him, feel 
 him ! 
 He has too hard a skin. No, he is clay. 
 And earnestness and truth and reason — all 
 You are acquainted with, all that you suffered. 
 He is not chosen — see ! Heaven loves the vine 
 And leads its tendrils garlanding ; Heaven feeds 
 With butter and with honey — delicate 
 Is Heaven's nurture. But this saviour reeks, 
 His breath is stinking — he revolts . . . uncleanly 
 And vile his garments. 
 
 Nehemiah. Do you spit on me ? 
 
 The scroll, the scroll ! 
 
 ... It is affirmed that there is prophecy — 
 A secret prophecy that names your name. 
 If that is proved, then you are no impostor. 
 Show me the parchment. If it smell too old 
 
 Sabbatai. Then were the parchment false ? 
 
 Nehemiah. No, you are false, 
 
 And no Messiah. I have knowledge of him, 
 He is upon the road. It was revealed 
 To me at Lemberg — thrust into my soul : 
 My heart was eaten up 
 With lust for the Messiah, to behold him 
 Treading the winepress, and to tread it, tread 
 The winepress with him. Can you tread it 
 
 out? 
 I come from massacre, from shreds and strips 
 Of my tormented people . . . where they dwell 
 Wild beasts are ravening. Cossacks plough their 
 way 
 
200 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 Through the furrows of my people's backs ; and 
 
 you 
 Sent me sleek messages, I should have vengeance. 
 Your message was dehvered, but the Poles 
 Told me that you were stepping, as a woman 
 Steps, delicately ; told me of your butter, 
 Your honey and your cates. But vengeance, 
 Vengeance must feed us ! Can you give us 
 
 vengeance ; 
 Say, can you tread the press ? 
 
 [Sabbatai looks forth blankly. 
 SABBATA'i. There must be suffering 
 
 And patience and forlomness. ... I will send 
 Alms to my people — I have riches. 
 
 (In a very gentle voice.) Prophet, 
 Let us not be too vehement. In haste 
 I am preparing to take ship and conquer 
 The earth. ... There may be rites, Ephraim 
 
 Messiah, 
 You say, must come — Ephraim with many griefs. 
 It may be you are he. But enter ! 
 
 [Sabbatai goes within. 
 Nehemiah. Vengeance 
 
 Is what I seek and where the law bums red. 
 
 [Showing a hack of dogged hostility he 
 moves toward the inner door through 
 which Sabbatai has passed. Before 
 Nehemiah has reached it, Sabbatai 
 springs forth, a pot of clay in his arms. 
 Sabbatai. Here is the vessel 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 201 
 
 Of the sacred prophecy. 
 
 [Setting down the curious old pot and 
 plunging his hand in it. 
 
 Here is the scroll, 
 Here is the test you put. . . . Examine it ! 
 You Nathan, Nehemiah, you — two lawyers. 
 
 Nehemiah. Old is it ? I would see 
 
 Sabbatai. Sit down and wrangle. 
 
 [He throws the scroll on the table ; Nehe- 
 miah savagely holds it up to the light, 
 then claws it. 
 He fastens as an eagle on his prey. . . . 
 (Turning to the sea.) I could creep off. 
 And in a little pinnace with my harp 
 Make melody to God and leave His billows 
 To waft me on His pleasure. . . . 
 {Bending over the puzzled, angry heads.) Sorrow ! 
 But these will never be redeemed ; in strife 
 And bitterness they wander all their days. 
 Nehemiah (turning back to Sabbatai). The edges 
 are too curled ; 
 The style is cramped. Where was the parchment 
 found ? 
 Sabbatai. I do not know. The form 
 Is of an amphora, a tawny-bowled, 
 Dark vessel, and with wine to cheer the dead. 
 (To Nathan.) Was it not in a tomb — do you 
 
 remember ? 
 Yachini found this testament ? 
 Nehemiah. Yachini ! 
 
202 A MESSIAH [ACT II. 
 
 We know him in the north. From Bosphorus 
 He sends neat transcripts of the ancient writings 
 For Christian use. 
 
 Nathan. Out of a tomb. 
 
 Closed in a den of unfrequented grass. 
 It came, Messiah. Abraham Yachini 
 Was moved within his entrails, deep-inspired 
 To rending of the ancient turf. Within . . . 
 
 Sabbatai. Oh, let me read ! 
 
 (Pointing at Nehemiah.) Are you a Kabbalist ? 
 
 Nehemiah. Read to the people — to the French, the 
 English, 
 The traders from the north — 
 And are there any Germans at your court ? 
 Read — we all Hsten ! 
 
 [He turns the pot slowly round, dipping 
 his finger in spittle and wetting the 
 clay, 
 
 Sabbatai [reading). ' I, Ben Abraham, 
 Shut up for forty years within a cave. 
 Was sorrowful. 
 
 And dreaming in my slumber had no peace 
 For wonder that the time of miracles 
 Tarried so long, so long delayed the day 
 Of restoration ; then a voice broke forth — 
 One shall be bom and speedily, his name 
 Is Sabbatai ; he shall quell the Dragon, 
 He is the true Messiah, 
 He shall wage war — he shall be weaponless.* 
 I like this prophecy. See, Nehemiah, 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 203 
 
 You must not ask for vengeance as of blood ; 
 
 There must be no blood-shedding. 
 Nehemiah. But the earth 
 
 Must drip with blood, the border of each garment 
 
 Must bear it for a rusty hem, before 
 
 The chosen people can ride forth as kings ; 
 
 And if you are not come to bring a sword 
 
 Your coming is no more than yonder flight 
 
 Of pigeons in the air. 
 
 {Turning to the people.) This earth is baked — 
 
 New-baked as bread for Sabbath use. This 
 scripture ^ 
 
 Smacks too much of the common tongue. 
 Sabbatai. It needs 
 
 The Kabbala — it needs interpretation. 
 
 The living breath of knowledge. What is speech 
 
 Without interpretation ? What is knowledge, 
 
 If not the interpretation of the wise ? 
 
 We have about us earth and sky and ocean — 
 
 We are but set in them as animals. 
 
 That bark or hinny or get provender, 
 
 And cannot re-create the parable. 
 
 And have no inkling of the mystery 
 
 Of how things shudder and impinge and draw 
 
 The universe along by violence, 
 
 By stealth, by signs, by deepest machination. 
 
 O Nehemiah, you are crude — 
 Nehemiah. The Scriptures 
 
 Are crude ... I know not ; they are honest 
 scriptures. 
 
204 A MESSIAH [ACT li. 
 
 This is a forgery. I tear it up 
 Before you all, I tread it underfoot, 
 I spit on it. 
 
 [There are howls of execration. Nehe- 
 
 MIAH is roughly handled — the Sab- 
 
 hataians close round him. 
 Sabbatai. What beasts are these, what beasts ! 
 
 Unloose the prophet. 
 Set him aside ! I challenge 
 His liberty, I challenge all men's acts. 
 This earthen pot is of a thousand years 
 Or is of yesterday — all evidence 
 Is false, all knowledge of the nature 
 Of the dew or of the manna on the ground. 
 My Kings, I have taken heart ! 
 
 [Flinging the earthen pot away. 
 We will adventure 
 Our mystery at once — we will put forth. 
 You, my musicians, you, my mariners. 
 And to the sound of music will set sail ; 
 With ritual will receive the Soldan's crown. 
 (To Nathan.) Marshal my Kings — advance ! I 
 
 am Messiah. 
 Within the uttermost places of the sea 
 I prayed ; there was I wrought, and, being human, 
 Wrought into God ; the Name was wrought in me. 
 You say I spoke it — that was chance, the action 
 Was irresistible, was as the waves 
 That rise and chafe and must be waves against 
 The wind and rocks, but in themselves are silent 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 205 
 
 As the sea's floor of sand. I am Messiah. 
 The waves supported me ; there was my faith. 
 I am Messiah. Men may write false scriptures : 
 I am Messiah ! I commend myself 
 Once more to the great sea. The Law is done, 
 The Law is cast away and by new tracks 
 The very stars are guided. I believe ! 
 Stream with me to the sea. . . . That heretic. 
 The verjuice of dissension, that maligner — 
 A pest, ^ Gog or Magog, a shame-faced. 
 Convicted leper — oh, escape from him, 
 As I escape. . . . Musicians, there is scent 
 Of the sea upon my garments. 
 Zarah {at his feet). There is scent 
 
 And fragrance of the sea. 
 Sabbatal Follow me, follow ! 
 
 Children, I know not whither we shall sail. 
 The music is more distant, but it leaps. 
 I have knowledge of the sailing ; of the port ; 
 I have no further knowledge — Follow me ! 
 
 [They all gather to Messiah. He leads 
 them in procession down the steps to the 
 harbour. The musicians descend last 
 singing. 
 Musicians. Hail, all hail 
 
 To the golden sail. 
 Hail to the Mariner that has no port,. 
 To the King that has no crown. 
 Hail to the spirits free, 
 Stretching their sail to the limitless sea ! 
 
206 A MESSIAH [act ii. 
 
 The hautboys, the shawms and rebecks, 
 
 the trumpets' snort, 
 The triumph, the laughter, the scorn 
 Round the skiff forlorn 
 Of the golden sail ! 
 Down, down, 
 Follow the King that has no crown, 
 
 Follow the sail, 
 Follow the light of its wings on the gale. 
 Till the night come and the glory fail. 
 [All pass out except Nahan Ghazati, who 
 picks up the fragments of the scroll and 
 the potsherds close to Nehemiah. 
 Nehemiah. Hot youth, remain with me. 
 Nathan. Are you Messiah ? 
 
 [Facing Nehemiah, who has turned to 
 leave the courtyard in the opposite 
 direction to the harbour. 
 Where are you going ? Do you think to do him a 
 mischief — and he has given you your Hfe and 
 liberty ? But you shall not betray him to the 
 Turk — dog ! — you shall not. 
 
 [Nehemiah springs aside from the flash 
 of Nathan's dagger — then runs across 
 the court, a fugitive. 
 Nehemiah. There shall be no false Messiah. I see at 
 last what I am. I have business with the Cadi. 
 
 [Nathan stares after him, grasping the 
 tattered scroll to his breast, his feet 
 bleeding from the potsherds. 
 
sc. I.] A MESSIAH 207 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Constantinople. The Harbour, 
 
 A great half-moon has cut its descending pathway 
 through white fog, on which masts, with furled sails, 
 make, as it were, a bowed forest, leaning one way. 
 To the left is the Custom-house, a low building of 
 unpainted wood, with high palisades going down 
 to the water, and patrolled by officers. To the 
 right a camel kneels to be loaded. Officers and 
 soldiers keep coming to and fro from the Custom- 
 house and the last vessel on the right, which is 
 just come to land. 
 
 Officers (among themselves as they pass). We must 
 wait the Soldan's orders. 
 Hosts of people 
 Press round the barrier. 
 See, that peaked-up turban ! 
 Even jewels are flung over round our heels. 
 Mustapha Pasha joined the prison-ship 
 Just off the Dardanelles. 
 
208 A MESSIAH [ACT ill. 
 
 He is within, 
 
 Conversing with this traitor. 
 
 Listen, Hsten, Usten ! 
 
 A wail of voices ! 
 
 Every day, all day 
 
 A wail of voices ! 
 
 Day by day the tempest 
 
 Has kept at sea the Infidels' great Prophet. 
 
 ' Is he coming, is he coming ? ' was our jeer. 
 
 The wail of voices — 
 
 He is come. 
 
 A traitor, 
 
 Conspiring for the cro\vn, and yet our Soldan 
 
 Would have us treat him with all courtesy. 
 From the Vessel. A further guard ! 
 Chief Officer. Enter ! The Captain beckons. 
 
 Enter ! 
 
 [Cries : there is a press of Custom-house 
 officials to the ship. Through them 
 Sabbatai and his jailer Seid come 
 guarded. 
 Seid. ~ Sit there. 
 
 Sabbatai {seating himself on an old chest). I shall be 
 glad to sit. How sick I feel, 
 
 Oh, I feel ceremoniously unclean ! 
 
 It is wrong to feel such nausea at the light. 
 
 And so this is Stamboul — the Soldan's city. 
 
 It lies a coil of chains about the bays. 
 
 [Pointing io a height above the Custom-house. 
 
 And what is that ? 
 
sc. I.] A MESSIAH 209 
 
 Seid. • Oh, nothing ! 
 
 A httle execution on the hill. 
 It is the hour. 
 SabbataL No, not for men to die. 
 
 They should die with the light, die at the sunset. 
 Seid. Prophet, then you shall change all this. 
 And men shall die at a more cordial hour. 
 There must be executions of deserters. 
 Renegades, unbelievers : I shall watch them 
 At sunset. . . . You will make me of your house- 
 hold 
 When you are Soldan ? I beUeve in you. 
 
 Remember 
 
 SabbataL You dear Seid ! 
 
 [He touches his jailer* s arm caressingly. 
 If I am Soldan . . . that must be to-night. 
 It is impossible — sweet rush of flame ! 
 What is that murmur, Seid ? 
 
 [Rising with dilated nostrils. 
 Do I not know it ? Is it not the burthen 
 Of my people ? 
 Seid. Surely. 
 
 [MusTAPHA Pasha hy the vessel signs to 
 Seid : they speak together. 
 SabbataL How it wanes, it waxes. 
 
 Eternal, I am Chosen of the Earth ! 
 I had oblations, sacrifice wherever 
 I touched the land, a prisoner ! My vessel 
 Was bravely trimmed ; I grew to hate the 
 trappings, 
 
 o 
 
210 A MESSIAH [ACT III. 
 
 I grew to hate the homage, but persistent 
 
 The miracles surrounded me : each day 
 
 The prophecies fulfilled themselves like hours. 
 
 (A young Turkish officer stands in front 
 of him with unapproving eyes. 
 Officer. Art thou Messiah ? 
 Sabbatai. Verily I am. 
 
 [He lifts his face and smiles. 
 Officer (instantaneously). You are, you are . . . 
 
 [He turns on his heel, 
 Sabbatai. O God, 
 
 my Desire, why is it that I worship 
 
 Each little impulse in the sand, each striving ? 
 
 1 know the sea 
 
 In its foundation. Thou didst hold me clasped, 
 
 Ice-clasped beneath its winter ; in that world, 
 
 Eternal, I was with thee and I rose 
 
 Creative from thy hand. 
 
 Oh, by thy name stamped on my breath and 
 
 uttered 
 Apparent as a writing on the wall — 
 For my lips moved not and I made no sound, 
 As the great sea-birds drew themselves together 
 And rested in high pyramid above — 
 Do not abandon me, do not desert me ! 
 I cannot draw the people from their faith, 
 Yet cannot pray. 
 
 . . . How acrid cold it is ! 
 [Faintly to Seid who approaches) . A cup of coffee ! 
 Seid. In the Custom-house 
 
SCI.] A MESSIAH 211 
 
 They are drinking — I will fetch you one. 
 
 [The moon falls into the sea and a long 
 streak of rose steals from the East. 
 Enter Zarah conducted from the ship. 
 As she comes forward the guard retires a 
 short distance. 
 Sabbatai. Beloved, 
 
 You are the morning, and your brilliancy 
 Shows me more wan. 
 
 You are arrayed a Queen. 
 Zarah. Assuredly. And you — how like a King 
 I have beheld you as the unrolling clouds 
 Unrolled their vision to you and discovered 
 The palace-roof that will be yours to-night. 
 Sabbatai. There, there ! — I left you sleeping, 
 A little pearl of health upon your cheek. 
 Health in your dreams . . . 
 
 [She strokes his forehead. 
 My hour is come. Sit down. 
 Sit by me, Zarah — see, there is a chest ; 
 And we are King and Queen. They guard us 
 
 closely. . . . 
 Give me your hand. This little fountain-pulse 
 In the hollow of your hand ! You are exalted. 
 Zarah. Beloved, but your hands are ice of ice. 
 Sabbatai. They must not quiver when I seize the 
 crown. 
 (Rising.) I must prepare, 
 I must make ready : there is nothing ready, 
 Nothing prepared. 
 
212 A MESSIAH [ACT III. 
 
 Seid [approaching with coffee). A miracle 
 
 Never has prelude. 
 Sabbatai. Are you turned Messiah, 
 
 And do you know the trick ? 
 
 [To Zarah.) Why do you walk in jewels ? 
 Zarah. Does it displease you ? 
 
 Ill-humoured, Sabbatai, on your day 
 
 Of triumph, my great day ? 
 Sabbatai. I am very sick. 
 
 [Seid urges him to drink coffee. 
 Seid. See, how the dawn advances, how the city 
 
 Reddens and whitens, and the minarets 
 
 Have each the little cloud of their own smoke ! 
 Sabbatai [setting down the cup). I am better — more 
 Messiah now. Seid, 
 
 This city is a golden bride before me, 
 
 And I am amorous — such strange, fantastic, 
 
 Terrible, smothered beauty. 
 Zarah. All these turrets 
 
 Will crumble as the walls of Jericho 
 
 Before the trump of God and his Elect. 
 Sabbatai. Break off, break off ! 
 
 It is not so that it will come to pass. 
 
 O beautiful, my city ! 
 Zarah. Sabbatai, 
 
 Your kings . . . 
 
 [The royal followers of Sabbatai are 
 conducted past him in chains. 
 Sabbatai. They pass as phantoms of great kings. 
 
 And all their caravan a huge mirage. 
 
SCI.] A MESSIAH 213 
 
 (To the kings.) I will not further test your faith, 
 
 O kings, 
 I have given you dominion, ye are lords 
 Of Judah, Persia, Araby, Italia — 
 You shall all reign on thrones when the Messiah 
 Walketh among you : that has been my promise. 
 This day it is fulfilled. 
 
 [The kings pass dejected. 
 Do they believe ? 
 Their faces are all turned away from me, 
 They cannot tell how it shall come to pass, 
 For there will be a great astonishment 
 Before the evening star. 
 
 [The mariners pass guarded. 
 My mariners ! 
 The stubborn happy faces. 
 My mariners, I shall not cross the sea. 
 Never again — but you have made the voyage 
 Once with the golden sails. Were you not 
 
 happy ? 
 Will there not be a music in your ears, 
 Ye who make war and carry merchandise ; 
 A sound that ye have won the victory. 
 And know your treasure lying at the port ? 
 Speak to me ! 
 Mariners. Heigh, a'heigh ! 
 
 [They pass. 
 SabbataL I can do this thing, 
 
 I can, I shall. That score of glowing faces ! 
 
 [Primo and Nathan pass. 
 
214 A MESSIAH [act hi. 
 
 Primo. Master, by the Name ! 
 
 Nathan. Malka Kadisha ! 
 
 Now what should be is come, invincible. 
 
 Hosanna ! [They pass out. 
 
 Sabbatai. The musicians ? 
 
 [RuBio passes. 
 Zarah. Rubio ! 
 
 [He blows on his fingers. 
 
 Rubio, he will give us all the world. 
 
 As he gave you once a shekel. 
 
 [Rubio still blows on his fingers. 
 Sabbatai. The musicians ? 
 
 [MusTAPHA Pasha strolls forward, 
 
 I must have music. ... 
 
 I want it in my limbs. Seid, the musicians ! 
 MusTAPHA. Your Queen is sent for from the Seraglio, 
 
 and your delicious singing-girls, the Soldan's 
 
 women that have been your wives. Bid farewell. 
 Sabbatai. Protect her. 
 MusTAPHA. She is under protection of his exalted 
 
 Majesty. 
 Zarah. I am safe as in God's bosom, Sabbatai. 
 
 Awake, beloved, awake ! 
 
 [She is led out with the other women. 
 Sabbatai. I must have music. 
 
 The players on the instruments 
 
 Have not passed by ? 
 MusTAPHA. They are within the vessel, 
 
 A band of eunuchs will be sent to fetch them 
 
 To the Seraglio. 
 
sc. I.] A MESSIAH 215 
 
 Sabbatai. I would see the Soldan. 
 
 MusTAPHA. Patience ! We still await the royal 
 guard. [He goes into the Custom-house. 
 
 Sabbatai. Seid, fetch me biscuits. ... I have little 
 power, 
 If I should famish ... all the fire falls out. 
 A pound or two ... if they should famish me, 
 You saw it, I grow sad. 
 
 [Seid slips away. Sabbatai gazes dreamily 
 in a tide pool. 
 
 The little emerald minnows. . . . 
 How beautiful ! 
 
 [He ceases to watch the pool and is arrested 
 by the barricade. A hand comes holding 
 a piece of coral; then some dates are 
 thrown over with a thud on the ground : 
 later, a costly handkerchief is raised on a 
 stick, but flutters down on the further 
 side. 
 
 My people ! 
 
 [Seid returns. 
 Seid. Master ! the biscuits — swift ! 
 
 [Sabbatai stuffs them in his wide Turkish 
 trousers. 
 
 Mustapha Pasha ! 
 [MusTAPHA re-enters. 
 Mustapha. Are you disturbed ? 
 
 [Some one sings in Hebrew from the crowd. 
 You have made the people happy, you have made 
 the Soldan unhappy — we must reverse all this. 
 
2i6 A MESSIAH [act III. 
 
 Sabbatai. Conduct me to the Soldan. 
 
 MusTAPHA. It is early yet. On rising his exalted 
 
 Majesty receives you. Smoke ! 
 Sabbatai. I will smoke with you. 
 
 [MusTAPHA Pasha seats himself on the 
 other chest. Sabbatai smokes the 
 offered chibouque in silence. 
 MusTAPHA. Doubtless he brews charms. How the 
 
 delay is harassing him — how his eyebrows twitch ! 
 
 {His tongue in his cheek.) Are you Messiah ? 
 SabbataL O sir, you will comprehend — the people 
 
 rate me thus. 
 MusTAPHA. And you have not conspired against the 
 
 Soldan ? The city is about you as you were lord 
 
 of the city, and you have a retinue of kings. 
 Sabbatai [laughing softly). They have not armour 
 
 nor bright weapons, nor chains heavy as these 
 
 chains. They can inflict no punishment. 
 MusTAPHA. The base knave deserts his followers ! 
 
 — what are you then, what trade do you follow ? 
 
 And what meant those fancy ships in the harbour 
 
 of Smyrna, with their silken sails ? Were they 
 
 laden with treasure for the Soldan ? Do you 
 
 acknowledge him and do you bear him tribute ; 
 
 do you bear him slaves and singing-girls ? 
 Sabbatai. I have sailed in the mystic vessel. I was 
 
 about to sail. The Cadi of Smyrna has in nothing 
 
 thwarted my purpose. 
 MusTAPHA (laughing uncomfortably). In nothing ! 
 
 You sailed with your kings, with your delicious 
 
SC. I.] A MESSIAH 217 
 
 singing-girls, with your train of beggars, with your 
 refuse and scum of the nations you deceived. . . . 
 [The camel rises that has been loading from 
 the vessel. 
 We have transported the greater part of your 
 pageantry. Look, Httle master, that has all been 
 accumulated by you for the Soldan. It is tribute, 
 you wiU have honoured welcome. 
 
 [A shipload of slaves is being landed from 
 another vessel ; they are marched past 
 under the whip. 
 Is he mad ? What excites him, what has he seen ? 
 Is it the camel that drops with his golden throne ? 
 The camel drops and the chair is broken. Bah ! 
 and such a trophy ! 
 
 [He turns to the little crowd gathered about 
 the struggling camel. The slaves are 
 driven up the shore. One of them struck 
 by the whip, stretches her arms toward 
 Sabbatai, who has risen with such 
 violent agitation, he breaks his chains. 
 Sabbatai {lifting his freed arms). If to this band, I 
 am indeed Thy Chosen. 
 
 [After a while his hands drop. 
 They pass. ... My chains are broken off. Seid, 
 Go after them . . . 
 Seid. Dear Master, 
 
 But this is not the miracle. The slaves 
 Must pass in fetters. Any slave you choose ' 
 To-night is yours ; but now — 
 
2i8 A MESSIAH [act ill. 
 
 The moment ! Oh, consider and take thought 
 Of your own Majesty. 
 
 [A captain with a hand of Spahis enters 
 through the Custom-house door. Mus- 
 TAPHA Pasha turns to receive the 
 soldiers. 
 
 I am his jailer : 
 I have not freed him, and behold him free. 
 
 [A stripling is lifted up by the crowd to 
 overlook the court. 
 MusTAPHA. He is a prophet ! 
 The Captain. And it is the hour . . . 
 
 [Suddenly the barricade is broken down. 
 Voices. He has freed himself ! 
 He is Messiah — we 
 In his power have broken free ! 
 
 [The Spahis form against the people, 
 flashing their weapons. 
 Sabbatai (looking at the people) . You must not follow 
 me. Go home ! Continue 
 To wait for the Messiah — a long hope. 
 As hope for the Eternal must be long. 
 Go home ! Wherever 
 I am, ye are my bread in banishment, 
 My secret fountain : I am fed of you. 
 My people — in the desert I am yours. 
 Go home ! 
 
 [He watches the mournful crowd passing 
 back through the broken barricade. 
 Seid (touching his elbow) . The Soldan 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 219 
 
 Sabbatai. Ah, I had forgotten 1 
 
 The Soldan — he is nothing. ... I am nothing. 
 But I will pray for these ; and as Messiah 
 I will pray for them. I am their Messiah, 
 And they have broke my chains. 
 
 [He watches them still as obediently they 
 
 disappear : then he turns to the infidels. 
 
 My jailer ! You, 
 
 (To MusTAPHA.) Be mute of this ; and give me a 
 
 full guard. 
 
 [He listlessly heads the little company of 
 Spahis, followed by the captain, Seid, 
 and MusTAPHA Pasha. 
 
 Scene II 
 Constantinople. 
 
 The Court of the Soldan. White and red alternate 
 arches make a semicircle in the midst of which a 
 dim carpet, beyond price, is suspended behind the 
 throne of the Soldan : a similar carpet is stretched 
 at the foot. Between every arch a black eunuch 
 stands like a bronze grotesque. 
 
 The Soldan Mohammed iv. is crowned and robed in 
 state. On one side of him stands the Mufti 
 Vanni, on the other the Grand Vizir, Ahmed 
 CoPRiLi. Nehemiah Cohen kneels before him 
 dressed as a Turk in green robe and white turban. 
 
 The Soldan. You are seeking vengeance . . . 
 Nehemiah. Even as the lord Mahommed 
 
220 A MESSIAH [ACT in. 
 
 Would ever with the sword, 
 
 Ever with vengeance, smite God's enemies. 
 The Sold an. You are seeking vengeance : and our 
 throne is safe. 
 
 Eh, Mufti Vanni ? 
 Nehemiah. While a Jew receives 
 
 The tribute of all lands — Egypt, Morocco, 
 
 Italy, Holland, Austria . . . ? 
 The Soldan {nudging the Mufti Vanni). And by 
 night 
 
 Dreams thievishly of putting on my crown 
 
 To the flourish of his trumpets and his shawms. 
 
 We will receive him 
 
 With honour as a mystic traveller. 
 
 Suppled with divinations to attract 
 
 And hurry our desires to our feet. 
 Nehemiah (rising). He is an arch- corrupter : Moslem 
 drink 
 
 Forbidden wine, Jews eat forbidden flesh. 
 
 And sacred fa^ts are loosened from their dearth. 
 
 Grand seignior, ever clement to our race. 
 
 Though I have bitter wrongs, I am not pleading 
 
 Their vengeance — I reveal a secret plot, 
 
 Remote, widespread, yet beating at your doors, 
 
 To dispossess your sacred Majesty. 
 The Soldan. A charmer — 
 
 A little ill-famed Jew of such account ! 
 
 Is the man mad ? Is he beloved as madmen 
 
 Who free their passion to a million hearts 
 
 That whirl the frantic dance in unison ? 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 221 
 
 If so . . . Ahmed Coprilli, tell me 
 
 Do you find the city moved ? 
 CoPRiLi. My lord, Soldan, 
 
 The city is in motion : love so surges 
 
 At this expected advent of a prophet 
 
 Called by the Jews Messiah. 
 The Soldan. Troublesome 
 
 Are chatterers with titles ! 
 Nehemiah. Ho, but this man is silent 
 
 In such a way that all pronounce his name 
 
 And his seditious honours on the breath 
 
 Of his stupendous silentness. 
 The Soldan. Still waters. 
 
 They say, run deep. Do you find the crowd's 
 commotion 
 
 Profound or shallow, Ahmed ? 
 CoPRiLi. It is inward, 
 
 At crisis : for the people 
 
 Are moved by wonder and behef in wonder. 
 
 So that a storm is simply held in leash 
 
 By admiration. 
 The Soldan. If we torture him, 
 
 Preluding death . . . 
 CoPRiLi, My lord, O Soldan, death 
 
 Would loose the currents of disturbance, resting 
 
 At poise on wonder — death 
 
 Is peril to your throne. Delay his death. 
 Nehemiah. Kill him, Soldan. Allah bless the deed, 
 
 And Allah's prophet ! In the solitude 
 
 Of walls and distance from your feverish streets. 
 
222 A MESSIAH [ACT III. 
 
 Whip him with flaming scourges, 
 Impale him mid-most of mid-palace courts, 
 Let him die gagged, and howHng through his mind 
 His body's anguish. 
 The Mufti Vanni. Son of wisdom, listen 
 
 In no wise to this Jewish convertite. 
 Whose tooth for Allah's enemies is ranker 
 Than mine, even mine. 
 
 Before the penalty 
 Of execution on a criminal. 
 Let us, if so we may. 
 
 Convert this mad, seditious person. Urge him 
 With reasons, bribe him. . . . You are paymaster 
 Worth a knave's tale : or threaten him — you 
 
 strike 
 Far deeper with a menace than with sentence. 
 Smile on the culprit, beat him with the frown 
 That opens pinion on your brow at whiles ; 
 Point to the executioners, demand 
 The Adan. Kill this mad, seditious person, 
 His teaching and his followers will remain. 
 If we can bring him into Islam, then 
 He is discredited from alien homage, 
 Mohammed is enlarged and Allah praised. 
 
 [While the Mufti Vanni has been speaking 
 the Chief of the Eunuchs has ushered in 
 musicians who stand in a half-circle on 
 each side of the Soldan's throne, tuning 
 their instruments. A Eunuch sweeps 
 aside the curtain. 
 
SC. 11.] A MESSIAH 223 
 
 The Sold an. Our visitor is in the doorway. Allah ! 
 This little, black-garbed creature is God's prophet ! 
 . . . Handsome. . . . The eyes attempt our sym- 
 pathy 
 With the first glance. 
 
 Sabbatai enters 
 
 Lay cushions for our guest. 
 Sabbatai. I do not know the reverences due 
 To the grand seignior. I would keep all forms 
 To his exalted Majesty. 
 The Chief Eunuch. Salaam 
 
 Three times. [Sabbatai does as bidden. 
 
 The Sold an. Be seated, Sabbatai Zevi, 
 
 Unless 
 
 (With a smile.) You would approach me to my face, 
 And lift this symbol from my head. Musicians, 
 You see, are at your service, if you choose 
 The air that shall discrown me. There are 
 
 shawms. 
 Trumpets wide-mouthed, and harps and psalteries 
 
 too! 
 Also I am awaiting you. My circlet 
 Is very rich — its gems surpass your jewels. 
 Add them to yours, charming successor ! Snatch 
 
 them ! 
 Hear ! All the instruments are tuning. Come, 
 The tune, your hands about my head ! . . . 
 
 ... A guest. 
 His countenance shows us unmannerly 
 
224 A MESSIAH [act hi. 
 
 To listen to such tales as folk will spin 
 
 At the street comers, at the harbour moorings. 
 
 (To the musicians.) Hush, hush ! Your thrills are 
 
 inconvenient. 
 Our audience given to Sabbatai Zevi 
 Will not, it seems, be musical. 
 
 [At a waft of his hands the drooping 
 musicians are conducted out. 
 
 Sweet doctor 
 Of strange religion, are you the Messiah 
 The Jews await ? BeHeve me I would learn. 
 Sabbatai [from his cushions). If there are any oracles 
 within 
 The human spirit of true voice, I was. 
 The Sold an. But now, now in our presence ? 
 
 [Sabbatai is silent. 
 You confess 
 Imposture by your silence. 
 Sabbatai [half to himself). Once a Rabbi 
 Laughed at the jackals round the holy ruins, 
 The ruins of Jerusalem : he knew 
 The desolation must all come to pass 
 Before the promise. 
 The Sold an. Then you are Messiah ? 
 
 Sabbatai {sitting forward, with waving hands). 
 I was called — and I have waited for the sign. 
 So I was called that marvels have been done 
 About me — all the countries have been living 
 Heart against my heart ; all the countries — 
 England, 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 225 
 
 And Germany and Spain — all far away, 
 Have quivered with my ecstasy. O Soldan, 
 I was not bom to glory, but the coffers 
 Of merchant cities, outpoured at my feet, 
 Have made me boundless in magnificence. 
 A messenger come from Jerusalem, 
 To bear repentant homage to me, staggered 
 Beneath the salver of rewarding coins. 
 In all ways I have lived as you are living, 
 The graces of command on every moment. 
 The splendour of an empire on each day. 
 The sun has looked upon my pageantry ; 
 The moon has whitened palaces 
 Where I have slept ; the stars across the darkness 
 Have not outnumbered those that worship me. 
 With chains about my wrists, 
 I have lured forth of men their eagerness 
 To give me gifts, to listen to the message 
 Which is the message I am called of God. 
 The very sea has crouched as a meek dog 
 Beneath my prayer. Is it not marvellous ? 
 Tell me, O Soldan ! And the prophets come 
 Within the limit of my hallowed vision — 
 The antique prophets. 
 I have beheld Elijah with these eyes. 
 Antique Elijah risen up : 
 And men have seen live fire upon my forehead. 
 They have heard rhythmical upon my voice, 
 Disturbing awe, the Name no man may utter. 
 O Soldan, surely I was called of God. 
 P 
 
226 A MESSIAH [act ill. 
 
 The Sold an. See, Mufti Vanni, here is radiance — 
 beauty 
 Become persuasion, beauty 
 On common lineaments a smile, on these 
 A light that opens. Sabbat ai Zevi, 
 You have a voice that pleases ; I would hear it 
 When sleeping on my cushions after prayer. 
 Your hands are exquisite and delicate ; 
 They draw hallucination with their swaying, 
 Till trust in you is as a mystery. 
 You are persuaded of yourself and half 
 Your lustre and attraction win the slackness 
 Even of my credence . . . but I need a sign. 
 {To the Chief Eunuch.) Order my archers in. . . . 
 (To Sabbatai.) Nay, do not rise. 
 My guest, my fellow Sultan ; at your leisure 
 Wait the proposal of my thought. 
 
 [The archers are ushered in. 
 Archers, your weapons tense for action ! 
 
 [To the Chief Eunuch.) Range them 
 Half-circled like our Golden Horn without. 
 
 [They stand on each side the throne, their 
 hows bent. 
 Now Sabbatai Zevi, if indeed 
 You are of God, substantially divine. 
 Allow my eunuchs freedom 
 To strip you and my archers to let loose 
 Their arrows on your body. I demand 
 A miracle, with flesh and blood for proof. 
 Then if the level flight of missiles turn 
 
sc. II.] A MESSIAH 227 
 
 From drinking at their aim, and if you stand 
 With silver face of hght that opens — Soldan 
 Mohammed is your subject King, and lowly 
 Takes off his crown in silence to your power ; 
 He owns the Jews' religion and Messiah. 
 Rise, you have yet your diadem to win. 
 Rise ! [Sabbatai does as hidden. 
 
 Eunuchs strip him ! 
 [As they advance, Sabbatai covers Ms 
 face, praying. 
 Sabbatai. O my God, my God, 
 
 Descend on me invulnerable, show me 
 Thy Chosen. ... Do not leave me here 
 
 alone. 
 Do not forsake me ! 
 
 [He suddenly uncovers his eyes and fixes 
 
 them wide on the archers. All the 
 
 Moslems breathe low and bend forward. 
 
 His lips move and he recoils. 
 
 {Under his breath.) Arrows . . . but the points. . . . 
 
 And who shall stay them ? 
 
 [The Eunuchs begin to remove his clothes. 
 No, no, no ! 
 Do not bare me, God-forsaken . . . not that 
 shame ! 
 The Soldan. Confess, you have blasphemed — or 
 take your choice 
 To bid my archers — shoot. 
 
 [There is profound silence, then a sob is 
 heard. 
 
228 A MESSIAH [act iii. 
 
 You have blasphemed. 
 [With a creak all the arrows are unstrung 
 and the archers begin to laugh as they see 
 the Sold AN laugh. At the sound of the 
 jeers Sabbatai presses his breast as if 
 struck, while he weeps with closed eyes. 
 Our beauty is in cloud ! 
 
 man, confess 
 Allah is great. Where are your wonders now ? 
 The false compulsion of your shining ? Dusk 
 Is on the air we breathe. Allah is great. 
 A cloud is over us, man ! 
 Nehemiah. Where falls 
 
 The branch there it shall lie. 
 The Soldan. What would you tell us ? 
 
 Sabbatai. Let me go forth. . . . There are many 
 seas around. . . . 
 To wander in the heat . . . 
 The Soldan. You are condemned. 
 
 You stand here a blasphemer, proved 
 Deep in imposture. There is punishment 
 For these offences, and to them is added 
 Sedition. I condemn you, and exact 
 Another miracle. 
 Sabbatai {lifting his hands) . Drag me no more 
 Amid the dogs and mire ! A miracle ! 
 Have you not laughed that all was as it was. 
 A miracle ! 
 The Soldan. One that a man may do. 
 You must confess Mohammed. 
 
sc. IL] A MESSIAH 229 
 
 Sabbatai. I refuse. 
 
 If I refuse . . . ? 
 The Sold an. At the Seraglio gate 
 
 The stake is planted that shall raise you up 
 
 To die, that handsome head left without mercy 
 
 To brood upon the agony it tops. 
 
 Before extremity of punishment 
 
 You will be flogged with torch-twined rods that 
 scorch you. 
 
 And sting together, Then you will lament 
 
 You kept my archers idle. 
 Sabbatai. Renegade ! 
 
 The Sold an. Forsaken of your God ! . . . 
 
 Your lips are white as the door of the Mosque at 
 Eyoub. 
 Sabbatai. The archers. . . . 
 
 Their arrows ! [Again the half -circle laughs. 
 
 The Sold an. You are weak to dream of pity. 
 
 Neither a sword nor arrows, but the stake, 
 
 And fiery rods to goad your nakedness. 
 Sabbatai. I am so weary. What do you desire ? 
 
 That I should change religion for religion, 
 
 My race for yours ? Is it a Turk you ask 
 
 I should become ? 
 The Sold an. Please God 1 
 
 Sabbatai. I am alone 
 
 In all the lands, among all peoples. . . . 
 
 {Falling on the cushions.) And even 
 
 In death I shall go down in it alone. 
 
 Outcast ! 
 
230 A MESSIAH [act hi. 
 
 The Sold an. The woman — 
 
 Your Queen — will suffer deep in solitude, 
 
 When you are raised upon the pike — her death 
 
 Strangling, and the way to death a rack. 
 
 [Sabbatai springs up with a maddened 
 gesture, and rends the hem of his black robe. 
 Sabbatai. My God. ... My people ! 
 
 The dream, the dream ! 
 
 Savage — this place — this crowd, this foreign 
 country 
 
 Where I have no existnece . . . 
 The Soldan. Sabbatai, 
 
 We worship the one God ; the antique prophets 
 
 Are to the Turk as to the Jew. 
 
 Rich state has been about you : my rich state 
 
 Surrounds my servants and my wealth is theirs 
 
 In no unstinted measure. I am held 
 
 A generous paymaster. You please me well, 
 
 And often through the hours I would encounter 
 
 Your gentle and imperious face. 
 Sabbatai {glancing sidelong at the Soldan) . I lived 
 
 Too softly. . . . [He laughs. 
 
 FooUsh dreams ! — Will you employ me ? . . . 
 
 Hou ! [He groans and begins to shiver. 
 
 The Soldan. Wisdom, Sabbatai, 
 
 Controls all discord in the bounds of Fate : 
 
 The inevitable should be calm. 
 
 [Sabbatai stands irresolute. 
 (To Mufti Vanni.) A mystic, 
 
 But now an unbeliever, and the mind 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 231 
 
 Only a sorrowing sport of vacancy ! — 
 Listen ! 
 
 [From the minarets of the city comes the cry 
 of the Muezzin. 
 Voices. God is great : there is no God but God : 
 Mahommed is God's prophet. 
 
 {The Soldan's prayer-mat is spread ; he 
 and all his Court murmur the midday 
 prayers. Sabbatai is arrested. Then 
 a look, at once frightened and profound, 
 comes ifito his face : he hows his head 
 and prostrates himself. When the 
 prayers are over Sabbatai still remains 
 prostrate. 
 The Sold an {returning to his throne). The Jew has 
 prayed with us. Rise, Sabbatai. 
 
 [Sabbatai does as hidden. 
 Sabbatai. God is great : there is no God but God : 
 Mohammed is his prophet. 
 
 [Throwing down his hlack Jewish turhan, 
 he stands as if a hurthen had heen loosed 
 from him. 
 The Sold an. Praise to Allah ! 
 
 Now let the cloak of green and the white turban 
 Clothe him entire for our religion, make him 
 Compatriot and fellow-worshipper. 
 Ah, you think well. Mohammed is God's prophet, 
 Attested by the ages, by the wonders 
 Of death-like trance, by faith that wove God's 
 glory 
 
232 A MESSIAH [act hi. 
 
 Through Hfe unbroken. 
 
 Be my doorkeeper. 
 You shall not lack gold : as you will, your wages 
 In any kind my treasurer shall pay. 
 And I shall see you often as I pass. 
 You will receive the turban, the green mantle — 
 Will you not ? 
 Sabbatai. Yes, exalted Majesty. 
 
 [They dress him as a Turk, 
 The Sold an. Will you receive of me your Turkish 
 name, 
 My choosing ? 
 Sabbatai. Yes, exalted Majesty. 
 
 The Sold an. Mehmed Effendi — and a favourite. 
 The Mufti Vanni. Mehemed 
 
 Effendi, I will teach you in the Mosque 
 The true religion of God's chosen prophet, 
 In my Mosque * The Splendour.' Allah's be all 
 praise ! 
 The Soldan. Your wife shall be restored — Fauma 
 Effendi 
 Her name : she shall have presents 
 From the Sultana's hand. 
 
 [He rises and moves down the room. 
 Open the curtain. 
 Await her. 
 Sabbatai. Yes, exalted Majesty. 
 The Soldan. Be happy in my service ! Half a 
 saint, 
 May the Great Prophet give you Heaven at last ! 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 233 
 
 Sabbatai (his hand on the curtain). What am I ? 
 On the branches of Life's Tree 
 Are many apples sound and beautiful. 
 If I am dropped and lie beneath the shadows, 
 Who glowed once in the sun, still other apples 
 Burthen the boughs. I should be comforted, 
 Laid safe within the shadow. God is great, 
 And glows and ripens on His favourites, 
 As this Mohammed. I will give God praise. 
 
 [White as death, he holds the curtain while 
 the SoLDAN passes, and taps his cheek, 
 and gives him a nod and smile of 
 approbation. Nehemiah, unseen, 
 stoops, picks up Sabbatai's black 
 turban and hides it under his green 
 cloak. When the Court has passed out, 
 Sabbatai drops the curtain and turns 
 back into the room, facing the Soldan's 
 throne. 
 Am I not praising God, praising His prophet. 
 And taking on His partiality ? 
 And yet I could have praised God in a way 
 More perfect, if my heart were not confused. 
 I could [widely extending his arms) have taken the 
 
 arrows in a sheaf. 
 And fallen and left the arrows for His choice, 
 And for His judgment over me — my God ! 
 
 [He buries his face ; then suddenly looks 
 out at the Church of St. Sophia, visible 
 against the sky. 
 
234 A MESSIAH [act hi. 
 
 How bright the Cross is burning on yon 
 
 dome ! 
 God favoured that sad Prophet. Very gladly 
 I would have died to be accepted so. 
 How should I die ? I had no part in dying, 
 I was called onward by a crown of sapphires. 
 To lure my people to their happiness 
 Was my sole task, sole strain. But God is 
 
 great, 
 Mohammed is His prophet. God be praised ! 
 
 [He sinks down on the cushions, and, closing 
 Ms eyes, breathes as if asleep. Eunuchs 
 shamble about. After a while a tall, 
 black Eunuch opens the curtain and 
 Zarah enters. 
 Zarah. Wake, Sabbatai. We are dreaming. Help 
 
 me ! 
 Sabbatai {with closed eyes). I cannot. God is great. 
 I testify 
 Mohammed is His prophet. 
 Zarah. Sabbatai, 
 
 You have betrayed me. 
 Sabbatai (opening his eyes). I am like a woman 
 Who dreamt she was beloved, and to the core 
 Of a lover's heart; who made this dream her 
 
 hfe. 
 Breathing it with the secrecy of breathing ; 
 Who found. . . . But, beloved, as that 
 
 woman 
 You are not. You are all to me, my chosen ! 
 
SC. II.] A MESSIAH 235 
 
 Will you be even as God, and cast me off ? 
 
 [Zarah lets her long hair fall over his feet 
 
 as she kisses them. He looks out with 
 
 wide, dreaming eyes. 
 If God should cling thus — if this woe should be 
 The land of Egypt, the Captivity ! 
 
 Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty 
 at the Edinburgh University Press 
 
RETURN TO the circulation desk of any 
 University of California Library 
 or to the 
 NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 BIdg. 400, Richmond Field Station 
 University of California 
 Richmond, CA 94804-4698 
 
 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 
 
 • 2-month loans may be renewed by calling 
 (510)642-6753 
 
 • 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing 
 books to NRLF 
 
 • Renewals and recharges may be made 4 
 days prior to due date. 
 
 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW 
 
 SENT ON ILL 
 
 NOV 1 6 2S00 
 
 U.C. BERKELEY 
 
 12,000(11/95) 
 
 UNIVfcRblTY OP CALIhUKNIA, bbKKELEY 
 FORM NO. DD6, BERKELEY, CA 94720 
 
 (g)s 
 
GENERftLUBBARY-U.C. BERKELEY 
 
 BDDQaa45fl3 
 
 / / 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY