ACT V.
SCENE I. The terrace of the Palace. Time, the morning of the second day.
Two SOLDIERS on guard.
1 Sol. A stirring season, comrade ! our new prince
Has leap'd as eagerly into his seat,
As he had languished an expectant heir
Weary of nature's kindness to old age. He was esteem'd a modest stripling : strange That he should, with such reckless hurry, seize The gaudy shows of power !
2 Sol. 'Tis honest nature;
The royal instinct was but smouldering in him, And now it blazes forth. I pray the gods He may not give us cause to mourn his sire.
1 Sol. No more : he comes.
[Enter ION, c.]
Ion. Why do ye loiter here?
Are all the statues deck'd with festal wreaths
As I commanded!
1 Sol. We have been on guard
Here, by Agenor's order, since the nightfall.
Ion. On guard ! Well, hasten now, and see it done. I need no guards. [Exeunt Soldier.]
The awful hour draws near
I am composed to meet it. Phocion comes: He will unman me ; yet he must not go, Thinking his presence painful.
[Enter PHOCION, L.]
Friend, good morrow! Thou play'st the courtier early.
Pho. Canst thou speak
In that old tone of common cheerfulness, That blithely promises delightful years, And hold thy mournful purpose?
Ion. I have drawn
From the selectest fountain of repose
A blessed calm :-- when I lay down to rest, I fear'd lest bright remembrances of childhood Should with untimely visitation mock me; But deep and dreamless have my slumbers been. If sight of thee renews the thoughts of life Too busily -- I prize the love that wakes them.
Pho. Oh ! cherish them, and let them plead with thee
To grant my prayer, that thou wouldst live for Argos, Not die for her; thy gracious life shall win, More than thy death, the favour of the gods, And charm the marble aspect of grim Fate Into a blessed change: I, who am vow'd, And who so late was arm'd Fate's minister, Implore thee!
Ion. Speak to me no more of life! There is a dearer name I would recall Thou understand'st me--
[Enter AGENOR, L.]
Agen. Thou hast forgot to name
Who shall be bidden to this evening's feast.
Ion. The feast! most true; I had forgotten it. Bid whom thou wilt ; but let there be large store, If our sad walls contain it, for the wretched Whom hunger palsies. It may be few else Will taste it with a relish. [Exit AGENOR, L.]
[ION resumes his address to PHOCION, and continues it, bro-
ken by the interruptions which follow,] I would speak
A word of her who yester-morning rose
To her light duties with as blithe a heart
As ever yet its equal beating veil'd
In moveless alabaster; plighted now. In liberal hour, to one whose destiny Shall freeze the sources of enjoyment in it, And make it heavy with the life-long pang A widow'd spirit bears !
[Enter CLEON, L.]
Cleon. The heralds wait
To learn the hour at which the solemn games
Shall be proclaim'd,
Ion. The games ! --yes, I remember
That sorrow's darkest pageantries give place
To youth's robustest pastimes --Death and Life
Embracing :-- at the hour of noon.
Cleon. The wrestlers
Pray thee to crown the victor.
Ion. If I live, Their wish shall govern me.
[Exit CLEON, L.]
Could I recall
One hour, and bid thy sister think of me
With gentle sorrow., as a playmate lost, I should escape the guilt of having stopp'd The pulse of hope in the most innocent soul That ever passion ruffled. Do not talk Of me as I shall seem to thy kind thoughts, But harshly as thou canst ; and if thou steal
From thy rich store of popular eloquence
Some bitter charge against the faith of kings, 'Twill be an honest treason.
[Enter CASSANDER, R.]
Cass. Pardon me, If I entreat thee to permit a few Of thy once cherished friends to bid thee joy Of that which swells their pride.
Ion. They'll madden me.--
Dost thou not see me circled round with care? Urge me no more.
[As CASSANDER is going, ION leaves
PHOCION, and comes to him]
Come back, Cassander ! see
How greatness frets the temper. Keep this ring--
It may remind thee of the pleasant hours
That we have spent together, ere our fortunes
Grew separate ; and with thy gracious speech
Excuse me to our friends.
[Exit CASSANDER, R
Pho. 'Tis time we seek
The temple.
Ion. Phocion ! must I to the temple?
Pho. There sacrificial rites must be performed
Before thou art enthroned.