_Arc._ Come with me!

_Sac._ But such a bladder!

He'd top a flood into the second world And wet but half his skin!

_Arc._ Nay, Sachinessa, Our suit is won. No words! We'll haste once more To Philon's shrine. For this dear joy I'll bend A willing knee. Come, come!

[_Draws her away, upper right_]

_Pel._ [_Capering_] Could reel it now Like school-boy 'scaped a whipping!

_Ste._ Shame! Your years Will blush. [_Goes left_] Now Biades, and then farewell!

_Pel._ Ah, there's my mourning cloak! I'll go at once To th' Council, and----

_Ste._ Vain labor, Pelagon.

_Pel._ Nay, I will stir them!

[_Exit, upper right. Biades enters left. He is arrayed in a purple gown with long train held up by his monkey. A peac.o.c.k fan swings from a girdle, and jewels dangle from his ears. He carries a scroll from which he reads as he walks, t.i.ttering over the matter. Stesilaus watches him curiously, then amazedly recognizes him_]

_Ste._ Biades! Is 't he?

May eyes report it to a brain unshaken?

... Ho, sir,--or madam?

_Bia._ Did you speak, my lord?

Your pardon! I was buried here,--quite drowned I' the honey of this tale. Sir, it suggests,-- But that's not it,--the style, so quaint, so pure,-- It plays with thoughts and leaves them bright as sh.e.l.ls The sea has polished to their curling edges.

You'll hear this line? 'Tis worth a pause. Eh, not?

You've never wooed the script? Ah, I forget.

War is the art of Sparta.

_Ste._ Are you man?

_Bia._ What's that to an artist, sir? Life in me packs The germinal grain of all, and what may come To birth and bloom, I leave to nursing Fate.

But you seem ruffled,--warm. Pray have my fan.

Then take my parchment,--sit you in this nook And read of Corys and his water-nymph Until the charm of an unhurrying world Steals wave-like round you.

_Ste._ Olympus! Was 't this voice That tripped my reason? Led my cautious years To take instruction from a dizzened ape And lose the cause they guarded? Was 't myself So slubbered judgment----

_Bia._ Ah, must I believe You honored my good counsel?

_Ste._ Good!

_Bia._ 'Twas good For Athens. Ha, you slipped into the noose As easily as my finger takes this ring.

A wondrous sapphire here. You know the stone?

This is from Egypt,--has the desert fire 'Neath Nilus' liquid smile. Is 't not a treasure?

But I forget. Your Sparta has no gems.

By Hera's belt, your country goes too bare For this adorned earth!

_Ste._ Come, Biades!

Throw off that gown, and with a captain's sword Deny this folly!

_Bia._ Friend, 'tis not my hour For exercise. Our moods, I see, would quarrel.

But here's my thornless world. You'll pardon me.

[_Resumes walking and reading as before. Pyrrha enters, middle left, and stands watching him. He looks up and is struck motionless to find her eyes upon him. She comes nearer for a detached scrutiny, then crosses right_]

_Ste._ Find me Alcanor, daughter. And this hour We leave for Sparta.

_Pyrr._ I am ready, sir.

[_Exit, lower right. Stesilaus goes into house, upper left_]

_Bia._ She has good eyes, and used them. Overshot, By Hermes! I must follow,--'twixt this fool And meditation's eye must interpose My soldier self!

[_Tears off robe, under which he wears a simple, belted tunic, flings jewels from his ears, and drives out Bico. Goes off, lower right.

Enter Pelagon, much ruffled, from street_]

_Pel._ Where's Stesilaus? Stesilaus, ho!

Find Stesilaus!

[_Stesilaus returns, upper left_]

O, my friend, they're mad, And you must fly! I never was so battered!

The senators cry out you played with them As though their stationed honors were a row Of last year's weanlings,--first to say you bore Full power to treat, then at their open answer To cover and prefer the opposite, Declaring that their n.o.ble terms must cool On th' road to Sparta! As I speak your comrades Are driven through the gates. You must not stay.

They'll have your life, they are so worked. Come, come!

I know a way--I'll get you through----

_Ste._ I'll go The way I came.

_Pel._ Nay, nay, I'll slip you out!

Leave here your wife and daughter. In gentler hour I'll send them after, with your son,--

_Ste._ I'll speak To Pyrrha----

_Pel._ No! This way! The world's at somersault!

The turtle's on his back, his claws to Heaven!

No one would hear me! _Me!_ The voice of Athens!

And jeered me down, for I was Biades' kin,-- Though why the wind sits so I know not!

Come--come--I was so battered----

[_Exeunt, upper left. Pyrrha and Biades enter, lower right_]

_Bia._ But one word!

_Pyrr._ I've let you shower words in hope to drain Your breath of them, but they grow to a hail.

Pelt me no more, Athenian.

_Bia._ O, that name I held my pearl of honor is become A wounding thorn! I'll wear 't no more.

_Pyrr._ You'll be A Spartan?

_Bia._ Ay, if you are one!