_Asan._ Madam, I obey you.

[_Exit._

_Gycia._ And I too go.

[_Exit._

_Ire._ I hold these hapless fools In the hollow of my hand.

SCENE V.--_Outside the palace._

LYSIMACHUS _and three_ Courtiers; _afterwards_ ASANDER.

_Lys._ My lords, what have you to report? Have the men arrived?

_1st Court._ For a week past they have been arriving at the rate of fifty a day. The ships anchor in due course. At dead of night, when everything is still, the merchandise is landed and conveyed well disguised to the great storehouses of Lamachus' palace, with good store of arms and provisions.

_2nd Court._ Yes, and by the day of the festival we shall have more than five hundred well-armed men within the walls, who, while the people are feasting, will bear down all opposing forces and open the gates to the larger body, who will lie concealed in the grain-ships in the harbour.

_Lys._ Does no one suspect, think you, as yet?

_1st Court._ Not a soul. The merchandise is landed at dead of night.

_3rd Court._ Does the Prince know?

_Lys._ Not yet, not a word. I can't trust him with his blind love for his wife.

_3rd Court._ What if he will not be of us?

_Lys._ Then he shall be put under hatches at once for Bosphorus, and may take his wife with him if he pleases.

_1st Court._ But will he pardon the deed?

_Lys._ The lad is a good lad enough, but weak as water. The world always pardons successful enterprises. Besides, I am in great hopes that he has so quarrelled with the ruler of Cherson, and may be, moreover, so out of conceit with his wife, that we can do as we will with him.

_2nd Court._ But be prudent, my Lord Lysimachus, I beg, for we know not how far he is with us, and if he is against us now, it may take more than we know to keep our heads on our shoulders.

_Lys._ My lords, you shall not lose a drop of your blood. But here is my Lord Asander. He looks cast down enough, in all conscience.

_Enter_ ASANDER.

Well, Prince, hast thou seen the lady?

_Asan._ Speak not to me of her, I pray. I must leave this accursed place at once and for ever, and must take my wife with me. Once in Bosphorus, I may know again the happiness which is denied me here. I will not stay here a day. Is there any ship from Bosphorus in harbour? Get me away to-night secretly, and the Lady Gycia with me.

_Lys._ My lord, there are many ships here from Bosphorus, but none empty or which can be spared now; but it wants but two days to the festival, and if thou wilt tarry until then, it may be we can so arrange that either thou mayst set sail for Bosphorus at your will or bring Bosphorus. .h.i.ther at will.

_Asan._ What do these words mean? You speak in riddles. I care not what becomes of me, but remember my honour, Lysimachus, my honour! If any scheme against the State of Cherson is in your mind, I will have none of it. I want nothing of these people, only to be allowed to turn my back upon them and their intrigues for ever, and to carry the wife whom I love far away from the air of chicane and base deceit which makes this Cherson a h.e.l.l.

_Lys._ My Lord Asander, thou hast not forgot Thy oath which thou didst swear ere first you left Our Bosphorus, that, come what fate should come, Thou wouldst not forget her. Now, as Fate would have it, These gentlemen and I, hearing report Of the grand festival which now approaches, Have ta'en such measures as may make our city Mistress of this her rival. Day by day Ships laden deep with merchandise cast anchor By Lamachus's palace, and unload At dead of night their tale of armed men, And by to-morrow night, which is the eve Of the feast, five hundred men-at-arms or more Will there lie hid. These, when the festival Has spent itself, and the drowsed citizens, Heavy with meat and wine, are fast asleep, Will issue forth at midnight and will seize The guardians of the gates, and throw them open To an o'erwhelmmg force which fills the ships Which lie within the harbour. For the rest, Cherson is ours, thou free to go or stay, King if thou wilt; but this, my lord, know well-- If thou hast even no reverence for thy oath, No power on earth can free thee from thy bonds Or speed thee hence, if still this cursed State Keeps its free power. Therefore, look well to it.

_Asan._ I cannot do this thing. I am no thief Or midnight murderer, but a prince and soldier.

Place me in open battle, and I care not For bloodshed; but this murderous intrigue, I will have none o't.

_Lys._ Nay, my lord, in sooth, Why think of bloodshed? If our scheme go right (And nought can mar it now), what need of blood?

These smooth knaves, though they fight behind their walls With cunning enginery, yet when they see Our army in their streets, will straight grow prudent And hug discretion. But, indeed, my lord, We have gone too far to pause, and if thou like not Our scheme, which makes for thee and for our State, We cannot risk that thou denounce our plan, And therefore, if thou wilt not join with us, The safety of ourselves and of the State Holds thee a prisoner pent in durance vile Till victory is ours, and thou mayst take The fruit of others' daring, while thy wife Deserts her doubting and dishonoured lord For one who dares to act and play his part As a man should.

_Asan._ (_after hesitation_). I do not hold with you, That a man's oath can bind him to his G.o.d To do what else were wrong. Yet, since you swear Your purpose is not bloodshed, and my will Is impotent to stay your choice, and chiefly Because I am cast down and sick at heart, And without any trust in G.o.d or man, I do consent to your conspiracy, Loving it not.

_Lys._ There spoke my lord the Prince.

We will succeed or die.

_Asan._ I would sooner die.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.--_Cherson. Irene's prison._

IRENE; _then the Gaoler's_ Child; _afterwards_ GYCIA.

_Ire._ Ah me! The heaviness of prisoned days!

Heigho! 'Tis weary work in prison here.

What though I know no loss but liberty, Have everything at will--food, service, all That I should have, being free--yet doth constraint Poison life at its spring; and if I thought This woman's jealous humour would endure, I would sooner be a hireling set to tend The kine upon the plains, in heat or cold, Chilled through by the sharp east, scorched by the sun, So only I might wander as I would At my own will, than weary to be free From this luxurious cell. Hark!

[_The tramp of armed men is heard._

What was that sound?

I could swear I heard the measured tramp of men And ring of mail, yet is it but illusion.

Last night I thought I heard it as I lay Awake at dead of night. Mere fantasy Born of long solitude, for here there are No soldiers nor mailed feet.

[_Again heard._

Hark! once again.

Nay, I must curb these fancies.

_Enter_ Child.

_Child._ Gentle lady.

_Ire._ Speak, little one. Come hither.

_Child._ Gentle lady, My father, who is Warder of this tower, Bade me come hither and ask thee if thou wouldst That I should hold thy distaff, or might render Some other service.

_Ire._ Ay, child; a good thought.