No More Learning

CATULLUS.
(Distractedly. ) The measure is too sad, sweet maids,
essay a merrier air Sing ye of love.
QUINTIA.
My lord, you die of love already; why add unto your
sorrow?
11
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? CATULLUS.
Pass me a cup of wine, good Quintia. The fleeting
memories of happy days instil not only grief, but mix
there with a discontent that rends my heart in twain. Oh,
had my Lesbia lived, how happy would our lot have been;
but now, alas; (He drinks the wine).
QUINTIA.
My lord, I beg thee let these memories pass. For nights
thou hast not closed thine eyes, and sleep evades thee,
as the Echo mocks us when we sing.
CATULLUS.
Could I but conquer this hell of discontent -- this fire
of love that now consumes my heart, then might I rest
in peace. Another cup of wine, good Quintia.
QUINTIA.
Nay, my lord, refrain I prithee; the wine but makes
thy humor worse. -- Good master, v/e thy hand-maids love
thee much and faithfully our vigil keep, but now the
night is gone and weariness o'ertakes us quite. Repose
thine head, and I will bathe thy brow with this perfume.
CATULLUS.
What is the hour, Quintia?
QUINTIA.
The moon hath set. The Pleiadese fade in the distant
sky, and Phospor now the early dawn proclaims.
CATULLUS.
How long the night! (looking at the heavens) Brave
Orion in his glory wanes, the day will soon be breaking!
Essay, another measure, child) -- sing thou of love, my love,
my Lesbia.
QUINTIA.
I will, my lord.
12
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? CATULLUS.
And then as she was wont to do, bathe thou my brow
with sweet perfume. Perchance the gods may hear thy
plea and send sweet sleep to solace me.
No. 3.
QUINTIA SINGS OF LESBIA.
No nymphs among the much loved few,
Is loved as thou art loved by me;
No love was e'er so fond, so true,
As my fond love, sweet maid, for thee.
IL
Yes, e'en thy faults, bewitching dear!
With such delights my soul possess;
That whether faithless, or sincere,
I cannot love thee more, nor less!
III.
No nymph, among the much loved few,
Is loved as thou art loved by me;
No love was e're so kind, so true.
As my fond love, sweet maid for thee.
CATULLUS.
(Half dreaming, half awake). How sweet, how sweet.
Oft have I sung that song.
My child sing it again I pray,
And with thy strain, allay my pain,
And drive m. y cares away.
r Quintia repeats the song, and as she concludes ")
j Catullus falls into a gentle sleep. As he sleeps the I
j Minstrals cease their song and there is heard the j
l^ Husbandmen singing in the distance. j
13
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? No. 4.
CHORUS OF HUSBANDMEN, ETC.
(Off Scene. )
PART I.
Tenors and Basses.
The night is gone, the day is come,
Ho sluggards be awaking,
Come join our throng, with festal song,
For lo! the dawn is breaking.
Ho to the fields, whose treasure yields,
Your food and lowly portion.
Then let's away, before the day,
And seek the laborer's fortune.
PART II.
Sopranos and Altos.
Faithful little mothers.
Patient little wives.
We seek our toil, amid the soil,
The honey and the hives.
Our task is just beginning,
And as we join the throng.
We greet the day with rondelay.
And sing our merry song.
PART III.
Ho, ho, away we go,
Hither away, thither away,
So, so, merrily go
Singing our rondelay.
PART IV.
Tenors and Basses.
Then plant the seed, and kill the weed,
For Nature's most compelling.
She'll bring the rain, and ripe the grain.
With the harvest rich excelling.
14
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? Then to your toil, ye sons of soil,
And happy be your portion,
For v/e're away, before the day,
To seek the laborer's fortune.
PART V.
Sopranos, Tenors, Altos, Basses.
Ho, ho, away we go.
Hither away, thither away.
So, so, merrily go,
Singing our rondelay.
( At the conclusion of the chorus of husbandmen
Catullus awakes. The dawn is breaking, the stars
grow dim, the sun at last breaks through the mist
and shines upon the lake; the birds add their chorus
of joy, and where before all was dark and dreary,
the scene becomes joyful and resplendent. The min-
strals now arouse themselves, arise and pass be-
hind the couch of Catullus, who entranced at the
beauty of the scene and refreshed by the few mo-
ments of repose, arises and stands spell bound, ad-
miring the scene. The beautiful music which has
accompanied this scenic display now ceases momen-
, tarily and Catullus speaks.
CATULLUS.
How fair the morn, how joyfully the birds their mad-
rigals proclaim! How sweet the perfume of the thyme,
as on the balmy air its odor, gently wafts to me. How
fair! How fair! All nature seems to smile, and I at last
in sweet content her beauties may survey.
QUINTIA.
My lord, thy sleep hath much refreshed thee. Then wilt
thou not from out thy store of happiness repay thy faith-
ful slaves, v/ho through the weary night have watched
15
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? o'er thee and given solace in thy discontent. A boon we
beg of thee, a boon my lord.
ALL.
Aye! aye! a boon.
CATULLUS.
What would ye that I grant?
QUINTIA.
I tremble least I ask, that which in truth may vex thee
sore.
CATULLUS.
Am I not rich and generous? Come, speak my child.
QUINTIA.
Aye, rich thou art, yet art thou poorer than the meanest
slave.
CATULLUS.
Speak not in riddles thus, how am I poorer than the
meanest slave?
QUINTIA.
Once thou wert loved, now thou art sad and lonely. Thy
Lesbia dead, thou seekest in the cup to drown thy grief.
Beware the wine though it be red for they who seek
their solace in the grape to Circe's spell succumb.
CATULLUS.
(Seriously. ) Thou speakest truth my child, -- yet grief
and discontent rend me in twain and if I drown my sor-
row thus, it is because my love is great. They know not
grief who in their souls have not a great capacity for love
-- (pause). And yet thou speakest truth, for Circe's spell
is death.
QUINTIA.
Then forswear the cup my lord, and grant thy gentle
hand-maid's boon.
16
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? ALL.
Aye, good master, forswear, forswear.
CATULLUS.
Now by the Kingdom of the Powers above, by Jove and
all the gods on high, I swear that I shall mend my evil
ways, and be the man that ye would have me be.
QUINTIA.
O, good my lord.
CATULLUS.
And though I ne'er may Lesbia's equal
View, nor hope for love such as she
Gave me from her bounteous store.
Yet by Minerva and the gods I swear,
To be the friend of lovers evermore.
For love alone this wondrous world doeth move
And life is death, without the touch of love.
But with the coming of its gentle sway.
Our sorrows vanish, darkness turns to day;
Then to all lovers shall I freely give
My wealth, my aid, that they may love and live.
QUINTIA.
O, good, O, gentle master, now dost thou fill our hearts
with joy and make us glad indeed. Behold thy hand-maids
kneeling at thy feet in silence do bespeak their gratitude.
CATULLUS.
Such fealty as this would touch a heart less tender than
mine own, and I were most unworthy of it, if e'er my oath
I should disclaim. Arise my children and let your weary
eyes seek some repose. And then before the fleeting day
is gone, come hither all, and vent your joy in song.
Exeunt Quintia, Thessala, Celia, Phaedria, via cham-
ber (right).
^'' Curtain
17
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? SCENE II.
Enter Davus (a youth).
DAVUS.
My lord, a messenger from the Province of Bithynia
awaits without.
CATULLUS.
What manner of man is he?
DAVUS.
An old man gray with years, yet rugged and of gentle
countenance.
CATULLUS.
'Tis Philto -- bring him hither at once.
, Enter Philto and Davus. >
\ Philto is an aged man. He bears a jar of wine which f
J he lays upon the ground, this done, he bows to C
\ Catullus. )
CATULLUS.
Welcome good Philto, give me thine hand, and say that
Caius Memmius my friend is well.
PHILTO.
He is my lord and hither comes upon his way to Rome,
where some affairs of state do take his care. This wine
he sends and bids ye all be merry.
CATULLUS.
Thanks good Philto, how fares his son. He was a hand-
some boy when last I saw him.
PHILTO.
Young Julian hath my master sent to Rome with news
of much import from Caesar.
CATULLUS.
I v/ould the boy were here for I do love him much.
Order the feast prepared good Davus, for Memmius hath
a retinue that will affray our cook more than a Roman
Legion. Go thou good Philto and essay our wine.
Exeunt Philto and Davus left.
18
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? SCENE III.
Enter Myrson (a youth).
MYRSON.
A messenger from Rome awaits without my lord. He
says he is the slave of thine old friend, Lucretius.
CATULLUS.
'Tis well, then bid him enter.
(Enter Myrson and Gripus. )
CATULLUS.
Welcome, good Gripus. How flourishes the Capitol
since I have hid me in this sweet retreat.
GRIPUS.
All goes well, my lord since Caesar steers the ship of
state, but in the household of my master, events run not
so smoothly in their course.
CATULLUS.
What's gone amiss, speak boy, speak.
GRIPUS.
Thou knowest well, O, Catullus, how happily is my mas-
ter v/ed, how rich he hath become, and how his only
daughter Hermia, now sixteen summers past, is sought in
marriage by the young gallants of Rome.
CATULLUS.
All this I know nor could I wish for fortune less, v/ere
I a maid.
GRIPUS.
Not so, my lord, Hermia will favor none save v/ith dis-
dain. Her mother pleads that she is much too young to
wed, and sighs and tears now rend our home where once
such happiness prevailed.
CATULLUS.
Hath Hermia no lover?
19
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? GRIPUS.
I know of none -- i' faith -- she vows that she will never
wed, no matter whom the man may be.
CATULLUS.
A sure proof of her inconstancy -- What says Lucretius
to this?
GRIPUS.
He's sore perplexed, my lord, and comes to seek thy
counsel.
CATULLUS.
Comes Hermia and her lady mother with Lucretius?
GRIPUS.
Aye my lord -- ^they journey leisurely from Rome and
e're the day is gone will seek the shelter of thy roof.
CATULLUS.
Now hast thou brought me news indeed. Take this,
good Gripus, and bid them welcome to fair Sirmio. (He
hands Gripus a ring) and thou, Myrson, prepare the best
within the palace for my friends.
Exeunt Myrson and Gripus right.
CATULLUS.
Ho, minstral, hither, accord thy lyre and sing a joyful
lay. Sing thou of Sirmio, for fortune smiles on me today.
SCENE IV.
Enter Minstral.
(An old man with lyre; he sings. )
No. 5.
SWEET SIRMIO.
Sweet Sirmio, Sweet Sirmio,
Of all peninsulas and isles,
That in our lake of silver lie,
Enwreathed by Neptune's smiles.
20
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? II.
How gladly back to thee I fly,
Still doubting asking -- Can it be,
That I have left Bithynia's sky,
And gaze in safety upon thee.
III.
Oh what is happier than to find,
Our hearts at ease, our perils past.
When anxious long the lengthening mind,
Lays down its load of care at last.
IV.
When tired with toil, o'er land and deep.
Again we tread the welcome floor
Of our sweet home, and sink to sleep
Upon the welcome bed once more.
V.
'Tis this, 'tis this, that pays alone.
The ills of all life's former track.
Shine out, my beautiful, mine own,
Sweet Sirmio, greet thy master back.
VI.
And thou fair lake whose waters quaff.
The light of heaven, like Lydia's sea,
Rejoice, rejoice, let all that laugh
Abroad, at home, laugh out with me.
(Julian sings off scene. )
O, thou fair lake whose waters quaff.
The light of heaven, like Lydia's sea,
Rejoice, my beautiful, mine own.
Sweet Sirmio greet me back to thee.
r The minstral and Catullus both much surprised, turn 1
j to see from whence the song comes, when Julian,
i who has ascended from the Lake below, scales the i
] balcony of the peristyle singing as he bounds over. |
L "Sweet Sirmio greet me back to thee. " J
21
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? CATULLUS.
(Speaking to the minstral. ) 'Tis Julian.
SCENE V.
Enter Julian.
r A handsome youth scarcely twenty years of age. He "|
J runs to Catullus, who overjoyed at seeing him, en- '
I folds him in his arms. The minstral seeing this i
1^ exits silently. J
CATULLUS.
Here thou truant boy -- into my arms (he embraces him),
and say what brought thee hence, when thou should'st be
in Rome.
JULIAN.
(Evasively). Give me thine hand again, good friend, and
tell me of my father.
CATULLUS.
He's well, and ere the hour's spent will greet thee here
himself.
JULIAN.
The gods be praised! Then am I come in time. (Im-
ploringly) O, Catullus! lend me now thine aid or I am
lost.
CATULLUS.
Nay, say rather thou art found.
JULIAN.
Jest not, good friend, for I am sore beset.
CATULLUS.
Then speak, my boy -- say what misfortune hath befallen
thee. Hath politics embroiled thee in some grave affair?
JULIAN.
Nay!
CATULLUS.
Art ill? -- Art in debt?
JULIAN.
Nay! . I
22
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd
? CATULLUS.
(Knowingly) Art in love?
JULIAN.
(Sadly) Alas!
CATULLUS.
(Laughing) Ha, ha, ha! Why, one would think it were
a dangerous malady to judge by thy sad countenance.
JULIAN.
Ah, taunt me not!
CATULLUS.
And is she fair? Come, now, I'll v/ager she is beauti-
ful.
JULIAN.
(Passionately)
Aye, that she is beyond thy wildest fancy,
No nymph is there more lithesome or more gay,
No flower sweeter or more delicate than she,
A queen is not more regal in her attitude
Nor is there music sweeter than her voice,
Which, when she speaks, discloses all
The beauties of a mind so iilled with pure
And gentle thoughts, that I do marvel that
These attributes should grace a maiden
Of such tender years. (Pause. )
CATULLUS.
In truth, thou art in love. But is thy love requited?
JULIAN.
If eyes are but the windows of the soul.
Then have I read the depth of love
That dwells within her heart.
CATULLUS.
(Aside) He's solely hit? (Aloud) Who is the father of
the maid, and what her name?
23
? ? Generated for anonymous on 2015-01-02 09:06 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/loc. ark:/13960/t7xk8x10m Public Domain / http://www. hathitrust.