No More Learning

_ Oh heavens! that I should love this king so well!
But that I doat--What can I see in him,
But dull good nature and simplicity?
Well, well! my little dear, I find the gods
Have given me here no business of my own,
But made me just your drudge, to love and save you.

_Ptol. _ 'Protest I thought them honest; are they not?

_Cas. _ Ye gods! why did you make this man your image?
And made him but an image? --You'll forgive me;
I love you so, that I am forced to rail.
You saw no close conveyance of the game
Betwixt the crafty sire and cunning son;
How slily one invented an excuse,
And t'other took it up as dexterously!

_Ptol. _ Why, sure Cleanthes was his father's spy?

_Cas. _ Yes, over you; but not on Cleomenes.
I fear you are betrayed, and the gods blind you,
To make your ruin sure.

_Ptol. _ As how, Cassandra?

_Cas. _ When you are absent----

_Ptol. _ Well!

_Cas. _ 'Tis in their power----

_Ptol. _ To murder Cleomenes----

_Cas. _ If they please;
Or else to set him free, and join with Magas.

_Ptol. _ I will not to Canopus.

_Cas. _ Yes, you must.

_Ptol. _ But how shall I be safe, and take this journey?

_Cas. _ Leave that to me.

_Ptol. _ But you must go along.

_Cas. _ No; I must stay here, in order to your safety,
To watch the growth of danger, and prevent it.
This cruel absence I must undergo,
Or else I love you not.

_Ptol. _ Since I must go,
I'll cheat them of a day, and come before
My time, for love of thee.

_Cas. _ To sum up all,--
For we are both in haste,--
Intrust your royal signet in my hands.

_Ptol. _ Joined with Sosibius.

_Cas. _ Would you trust a statesman
Before your own dear heart? You love him better,
You naughty man, in faith you do; and, now I think on't,
I will not have your signet: By this kiss,
And this, and this, I will not.

_Ptol. _ By all three, thou shalt.
[_Gives her the Signet from his Finger. _

But kill this Cleomenes quickly, he's dangerous.

_Cas. _ He's in safe hands with me.

_Ptol. _ One more embrace.

_Cas. _ There, take it, and now go.
Thus, for your good, I thrust you from my arms.

_Ptol. _ Farewell, my love. [_Exit_ PTOLEMY.

_Cas. _ Farewell----I hope for ever. --
Now, Cleomenes, I will sound thy soul,
For life and death depend upon thy choice;
But for that easy wretch, him I comtemn.
Hard state of lovers, subject to our laws!
Fools we must have, or else we cannot sway;
For none but fools will womankind obey.
If they prove stubborn, and resist our will,
We exercise our power, and use them ill.
The passive slave, that whines, adores, and dies,
Sometimes we pity, but we still despise:
But when we doat, the self-same fate we prove,
Fools at the best, but double fools in love.
We rage at first with ill-dissembled scorn;
Then, falling from our height, more basely mourn;
And man, the insulting tyrant, takes his turn,
Leaves us to weep for our neglected charms,
And hugs another mistress in his arms;
And, that which humbles our proud sex the most,
Of all our slighted favours makes his boast.
[_Exit_ CASSANDRA.

_Enter_ CLEOMENES.

_Cleom. _ Her words, her every look, confess she loves me;
And therefore she detains these hostages,
As pawns of my return to her and Egypt.
Thus far 'tis plain and obvious:--But the picture;
That Helen: There's the riddle of her love.
For, what I see, or only think I see,
Is like a glimpse of moonshine, streaked with red,--
A shuffled, sullen, and uncertain light,
That dances through the clouds, and shuts again:
Then 'ware a rising tempest on the main.

_Enter_ CASSANDRA.

_Cas. _ I would, but cannot speak.
The shame that should to womankind belong,
Flown from my bosom, hovers on my tongue. [_Aside. _

_Cleom. _ 'Tis rarely seen, that gods from heaven descend,
But for some kind, some charitable end.
And yet your troubled looks ill news import,
Stops, or delays; but that's no news at court:
There's somewhat which your pity would disguise.

_Cas. _ Would you could read that somewhat in my eyes!
But, as you are a Spartan and a king,
Undaunted hear whatever news I bring.
The favourite hates you; Cœnus has betrayed
The bitter truths, that our loose court upbraid.
Your friend was set upon you for a spy,
And on his witness you are doomed to die.

_Cleom. _ I have been plunged already twice in woes,
And the third time above the waves I rose.
Still I have strength to steer me into port,
And shun the secret quick-sands of the court.
But when my friend, who should expecting stand
On the bare beach, to lend his helping hand;
When he defends the unhospitable shore,
And drives me thence, I sink for evermore.
But 'tis impossible, his faith is tried;
The man, who had defamed him thus, had lied.

_Cas. _ Well! I forgive your blunt Laconic way;
It shall be seen, it shall this very day,
Who would preserve your life, and who betray.
The king incensed, the favourite your foe,
Yet on the same conditions you may go;
Your wife, your son, your mother left behind.
What think you now?

_Cleom. _ 'Tis to be wonderous kind.

_Cas. _ Suppose I add a farther bounty yet.

_Cleom. _ It could but make your favours over weight.

_Cas. _ What if I went myself to waft you o'er,
And left you when I saw you safe ashore?
For I should leave you, if you thought it fit,
Not to do more, than honour would permit.
Can I do less, to show you I am kind,
To comfort you for those you left behind?

_Cleom. _ The world would think you kinder than you ought.

_Cas. _ Why should I care what base Egyptians thought?

_Cleom. _ Immoderate gifts oppress me, not relieve;
Nor dare I take what ruins you to give.

_Cas. _ Leave me to judge of that; I could prescribe
An easy way of giving back my bribe.
Why would you force me farther than my part?
Look on my eyes, and you may read my heart.
[_Looks on her as by stealth. _
Oh, there you met me with a guilty glance!
Now 'tis too late to plead your ignorance.

_Cleom. _ I am so much below, and you above,
What can I say?

_Cas. _ But one kind word,--I love.

_Cleom. _ As far as gratitude that love can pay.

_Cas. _ Oh, stop not there; for that's but half the way!
Would you to one poor narrow word confine
Your passion, when I put no bounds to mine?

_Cleom. _ Cleora!

_Cas. _ Now you speak too soon; forbear!
Nothing can please me, that begins with her.

_Cleom. _ I must begin, where nature, void of art,
Directs my tongue,--with her, who rules my heart.

_Cas. _ Let us together sail before the wind,
And leave that dull domestic drudge behind.

_Cleom. _ What! to expose her helpless innocence
To the wild fury of an injured prince?

_Cas. _ A vain surmise; their talents would agree. }
The gods have made your noble mind for me, }
And her insipid soul for Ptolemy: }
A heavy lump of earth, without desire;
A heap of ashes, that o'erlays your fire.

_Cleom. _ Virtue you must allow her, though a foe.

_Cas. _ No more than what I would to ice and snow.
Yet those have seeds of heat; her shivering blood
Makes her, at best, but impotently good.
But neither I can save you, if you stay,
Nor save myself unless I go away;
For, if I stay behind, and set you free,
The fury of the king would fall on me.

_Cleom. _ Then, to prevent your fate, I must not go;
Death is my choice, since heaven will have it so.

_Cas. _ Heaven would preserve your life, and so would I;
But you are obstinately bent to die.

_Cleom. _ Some men are made of such a leaky mould,
That their filled vessels can no fortune hold:
Poured in, it sinks away, and leaves them dry;
Of that unsusceptible make am I.
Yet think not, fair one, I your charms despise;
My heart's insensible, but not my eyes:
Respect and gratitude are all my store,
And those I give; my love was given before.

_Cas. _ Thus break false merchants, with an honest show;
Rich to themselves, but bankrupts where they owe.

_Cleom. _ If at this awful distance I remain,
Better be too devout, than too profane.

_Cas. _ Flattery! such alms the priesthood give the poor;
They bless, and send them empty from the door.
Know you, that Death stands ready at the gate,
That I forbid him, and suspend your fate?
The king's short absence leaves me absolute;
When he returns, the inevitable ill
Is past my power, and may be past my will.
Unhappy man! prevent thy destiny;
Speak one kind word, to save thy life and me.

_Cleom. _ Be answered, and expect no more reply.

_Cas. _ Disdain has swelled him up, and choked his breath;
Sullen, and dumb, and obstinate to death.
No signs of pity in his face appear;
Look, if the ungrateful creature shed one tear!
Crammed with his pride, he leaves no room within
For sighs to issue out, or love to enter in. --
[_He turns away. _
What! dost thou turn thy face in my despite?
Am I a toad? a monster to thy sight?
Farewell, fond pity, then: As thou from me,
So thy good fortune turns her face from thee.
Left, scorned, and loathed, and all without relief,
Revenge succeeds to love, and rage to grief.
Tempests and whirlwinds through my bosom move, }
Heave up, and madly mount my soul above }
The reach of pity, or the bounds of love. -- }
Approach, and seize the traitor.

_Enter Guards. _

_Cleom. _ Now I can speak: thy kindness kept me dumb,
For that I could not answer. The false Syren,
No longer hiding her uncomely parts,
Struts on the waves, and shews the brute below.

_Cas. _ Stop that foul mouth! Behold this royal signet,
The warrant of his death. [_Guards go to seize him. _

_Cleom. _ Stand back, ye slaves, [_He draws his Sword. _
And put me not to stain a Spartan sword
With base Egyptian blood.
[_He advances upon them; they retire, with signs of fear. _

_Cas. _ Fall on!
--Behold a noble beast at bay,
And the vile huntsmen shrink! --More aid: Who waits? --

_Enter_ CLEANTHES.

Now, sir, what brings you here?

_Clean. _ My zeal to serve you.

_Cas. _ That shall be tried; disarm him.

_Clean. _ Cleomenes,
Deliver me your sword.

_Cleom. _ How's this, Cleanthes?

_Clean. _ It must be so.

_Cleom. _ Is this a friend's advice,
To give me up defenceless to a crowd,
Whom, armed, I could resist?

_Clean. _ Must he die, madam,
Or be reserved for further punishment,
At Ptolemy's return?

_Cas. _ Why ask you that?

_Clean. _ Because his destiny, for aught I find,
Depends on you. Think first, and then command.

_Cas. _ Know then, that his last thread is on the distaff,
And I can cut it now.

_Clean. _ And are resolved?

_Cas. _ I only said I can, and I can save. --
Disarm, and hurt him not.

_Clean. _ Once more, your sword.

_Cleom. _ Stand off those villains;--though I fear them not,
Yet cowards are offensive to my sight;
Nor shall they see me do an act, that looks
Below the courage of a Spartan king.

_Cas. _ Cleanthes, may I trust your faith?

_Clean. _ You may.

_Cas. _ Be gone, and wait my call. [_Exeunt Guards. _

_Cleom. _ Cleanthes! Still my friend; for such I hold thee,
Though this bad woman says thou art my spy;
I cannot give a greater proof than this,
That I believe her not: [_Gives him his Sword. _
If thou art false,
'Tis in thy power to show it safely, now;
And compass that by treason, which, in arms,
Nor thou, nor any man alive, can force.
Remember still, I gave it to a friend;
For life and death are equal in themselves;
That, which would cast the balance, is thy falsehood,
To make my death more wretched.

_Clean. _ Then you may think me that, which you call false;
But duty to my father--

_Cleom. _ Say no more!
I would not curse thee, for thou wert my friend.
I think thee still as honest as thou couldst;
Impenetrably good; but, like Achilles,
Thou hadst a soft Egyptian heel undipt,
And that has made thee mortal.

_Cas. _ Cleanthes, thou hast well approved thy faith;
And, as this palace is thy government,
On utmost peril of thy life secure him. --
One farther word-- [_Whispers. _

[_Exit_ CLEAN. _looking concernedly on_ CLEOM.

_Cleom. _ So guilty as thou art, and canst thou look
On him thou hast betrayed? --Go, take thy hire,
Which thou hast dearly purchased, and be great.

_Cas. _ For you, brave sir, as you have given my hopes
But air to feed on, air shall be your food;
No bread shall enter these forbidden doors.
Thin, hungry diet, I confess; but still
The liker Spartan fare. Keen appetites,
And quick digestion, wait on you and yours.

_Cleom. _ O mix not innocence and guilt together!
What love have they refused, or how offended?
Be just, though you are cruel; or, be kind,
And punish me alone.

_Cas. _ There nature works;
Then there I'll stab thee in thy tender part.
[_Shrieks of Women within. _

_Cleom. _ What dismal cries are those?

_Cas. _ Nothing; a trifling sum of misery,
New-added to the foot of thy account:
Thy wife is seized by force, and borne away. --
Farewell; I dare not trust thy vengeance further. [_Exit. _

[_Running to the Door, he is stopt by Guards with drawn Swords. _

_Cleom. _ Cleora! --There stands death, but no Cleora;
I would find both together.

_Enter_ CRATESICLEA, CLEONIDAS, _and_ PANTHEUS _with Blood on his Hands_.

_Crat. _ Oh king of Sparta!

_Cleom. _ Peace, mother, peace;
I have had news from hell before you,--
Cleora's gone to death. Is there a door,
A casement, or a rift within these walls,
That can let loose my body to her rescue?

_Panth. _ All closed; nothing but heaven above is open.

_Cleom. _ Nay, that's closed too; the gods are deaf to prayers!
Hush then; the irrevocable doom's gone forth,
And prayers lag after, but can ne'er o'ertake. --
Let us talk forward of our woes to come.

_Crat. _ Cleanthes! (Oh, could you suspect his faith? )
'Twas he, that headed those, who forced her hence.

_Cleom. _ Pantheus bleeds!

_Panth. _ A scratch, a feeble dart,
At distance thrown by an Egyptian hand.

_Crat. _ You heard me not; Cleanthes is----

_Cleom. _ He was----no more, good mother;
He tore a piece of me away, and still
The void place aches within me. --O, my boy,
I have bad news to tell thee.

_Cleon. _ None so bad,
As that I am a boy. Cleanthes scorned me;
And, when I drove a thrust, home as I could,
To reach his traitor heart, he put it by,
And cried, as in derision,--Spare the stripling.
Oh that insulting word! I would have swopped
Youth for old age, and all my life behind,
To have been then a momentary man.

_Cleom. _ Alas! thy manhood, like a forward spring,
Before it comes to bear the promised fruit,
Is blighted in the bud. Never, my boy,
Canst thou fetch manhood up, with thy short steps,
While, with long strides, the giant stalks before thee.

_Cleon. _ Am I to die before I am a man?

_Cleom. _ Yes, thou must die with me, and I with her,
Who gave me life; and our poor infant too, within,
Must die before it knows what dying means.
Three different dates of nature, one would think;
But fate has crammed us all into one lease,
And that even now expiring.

_Panth. _ Yet we live.

_Cleom. _ No, even now we die; death is within us,
And keeps our life; for nourishment is life,
And we have fed our last; hunger feeds death.

_Crat. _ A lingering doom, but four days hence the same;
And we can shorten those, turn days to hours,
And hours to moments; death is in our call.

_Panth. _ The sooner, then, the better.

_Cleon. _ So say I.

_Panth. _ While we have spirits left to meet him boldly.

_Cleon. _ I'll hold my breath,
And keep my soul a prisoner in my body;
There let it creep and wander in the dark,
Till, tired to find no outlet, it retreats
Into my Spartan heart, and there lies pleased;
So, we two are provided. --Sir, your choice? [_To_ CLEOM.

_Cleom. _ Not this dispatch, for we may die at leisure.
This famine has a sharp and meagre face:
'Tis death in an undress of skin and bone;
Where age and youth, their land-mark ta'en away,
Look all one common furrow.

_Crat. _ Yet you chuse it,
To please our foes; that, when they view our skeletons,
And find them all alike, they may cry out,--
Look how these dull obedient Spartans died,
Just as we wished, as we prescribed their death,
And durst not take a nobler, nearer way!

_Cleom. _ Not so; but that we durst not tempt the gods,
To break their images without their leave.
The moment ere Cassandra came, I had
A note without a name, the hand unknown,
That bade me not despair, but still hope well.
Then die not yet;
For heaven has means to free us; if not me,
Yet these, and you. I am the hunted stag,
Whose life may ransom yours.

_Crat. _ No more of that:
I find your distant drift,--to die alone;
An unkind accusation of us all,
As if we durst not die; I'll not survive you.

_Panth. _ Nor I.

_Cleon. _ Nor I.

_Cleom. _ But hear my reasons. --

_Enter_ CLEORA, _in a black Veil_.

Ha, what shadow's this! this, that can glide through walls,
Or pass its subtile limbs through bolts and bars!
Black, too! like what it represents, our fate.

_Cleor. _ Too true a shadow I, and you the substance.
[_Lifts up her Veil. _

_Omnes. _ Cleora!

_Cleom. _ Thus let me grow again to thee,
Too close for fate to sever!
Or let death find me in these dear, dear arms;
And, looking on thee, spare my better part,
And take me willing hence.

_Crat. _ What! are you dreaming, son, with eyes cast upwards,
Like a mad prophet in an ecstacy?

_Cleom. _ Musing on what we saw.
Just such is death,
With a black veil, covering a beauteous face.
Feared afar off
By erring nature; a mistaken phantom;
A harmless, lambent fire. She kisses cold;
But kind, and soft, and sweet, as my Cleora.
Oh, could we know
What joys she brings, at least, what rest from grief;
How should we press into her friendly arms,
And be pleased not to be, or to be happy!

_Crat. _ Look, what we have forgot! The joy to see
Cleora here, has kept us from enquiring,
By what strange means she entered.

_Cleom. _ Small joy, heaven knows, to be adopted here,
Into the meagre family of famine!
The house of hunger! therefore asked I not;
So am I pleased to have her company,
And so displeased to have it but in death.

_Cleor. _ I know not how, or why, my surly gaoler,
Hard as his irons, and insolent as power
When put in vulgar hands, Cleanthes gone,
Put off the brute; and with a gloomy smile,
That showed a sullen lothness to be kind,
Screened me within this veil, then led me forth;
And, using to the guards Cassandra's name,
Made that my passport: every door flew ope,
To admit my entrance; and then clapt behind me,
To bar my going back.

_Cleom. _ Some new resolve.
Cassandra plots, and then refines on malice;
Plays with revenge. With rage she snatched you hence,
And renders you with scorn: I thought to show you,
How easy 'twas to die, by my example,
And hansel fate before you; but thy presence
Has changed my mind, to drag this lingering life,
To share thy sorrows, and assist thy weakness. --
Come in, my friends, and let us practise death;
Stroke the grim lion, till he grow familiar. --
Cleora, thou and I, as lovers should,
Will hand in hand to the dark mansions go,
Where life no more can cheat us into woe;
That, sucking in each other's latest breath,
We may transfuse our souls, and put the change on death.
[_Exeunt. _




ACT V. --SCENE I.


_Enter_ CASSANDRA _and_ SOSIBIUS.

_Sosib. _ And what have you determined?

_Cas. _ He shall die.

_Sosib. _ A wholesome resolution. Have you fixed
The time?

_Cas.