_Pyrr._ Tut, take the boats that brought Those purfled cymlings here. Their rowers too.

Ah, Biades, you'll serve us still. And thought To trap all Sparta with this tip-toe bait!

We have a saying. "Wit against the world,--"

And there's another too, "The last lie wins."

Hast heard it, Biades? We'll bear your word To Phernes that with dawn you move with him Upon the Athenian sails.

_Bia._ He'll hear no word From Spartan mouth. So 'twas agreed between us, To annul such move as this if chance should strip My bent of cover. I alone may reach His ear with Sparta's prayer.

_Pyrr._ We'll cast for proof Of that. If true, we shall remember, sir, That Sparta has won cities with no aid From Persia.

_Bia._ You'll not go alone to meet The strength of Athens?

_Pyrr._ Your far-winged name And sea-born battle-skill shall go with us.

Your single arm's no loss, but in your fame, Yet ours to use, the Spartan strength Is doubled. Ha! They call us landmen,--say We must have feet on ground ere we can fight.

But you they fear, bred to the wave, and first Of their commanders.

_Bia._ Let me die, but leave My name unmurdered.

_Pyrr._ It shall be outflung In challenge to the Athenians. They know well The sailor rabble loves you, and will oppose But half a heart to Biades. Some too, Of higher place, believe you wronged, and fear The angered G.o.ds will station on your side.

By spearman Ares, you shall keep the oath Great-sworn on Sparta's ground, to set her lance Through Athens' triple shield! Ay, though you lie In irons waiting death.

_Bia._ The sunken souls Of deepest, d.a.m.ned Dis have never borne So vile a sting! You can not mean it, Pyrrha.

Cast on my soul what Pluto would disbar From his fire-vaulted h.e.l.l? I'll proudly die For treachery to you, but clear my name To Athens. Take not life and honor too!

_Pyrr._ One you may save,--your life.

_Bia._ What do you say?

_Pyrr._ Draw Phernes back to us, and you shall live.

_Bia._ You offer me but death, knowing I could not live A traitor.

_Pyrr._ You choose to die as one?

_Bia._ Oh, Zeus, All-giver, hear!

_Pyrr._ What gain is death to you If reputation dies eternally In Athens' hate? Sparta will do as much As spare your life.

_Bia._ Nay----

_Pyrr._ She shall nothing know Of this hour's lapse----

_Bia._ O, bitter stars! O, Death Past fatal!--reaching o'er thy charnel bound To usurp the immortal garden! Die a traitor!

Never will dew from a forgiving eye Fall on my grave!

_Pyrr._ Nor will the upbraiding gaze Of Heaven be more tender. For you chose To risk your country's life on turn of chance, Having no surety that drawn to danger You then could pluck her out. Ah, made her fate Your stake at dice, because, escaped the hazard, You'd toss with her to fortune! And your guilt Is heavy in her fall as though your hand Bore down her last defence and fierce untrussed Her heart to th' wolvish air.

_Bia._ Oh, Pyrrha, Pyrrha!

_Pyrr._ Then why haste on to death? The n.o.blest shades Will make no room for you where'er they walk.

Why rush through the first gate to meet their cold Immortal scorn?

_Bia._ But life with honor gone!

_Pyrr._ If death could buy it, then 'twere wise To buy so goldenly. But that's too late.

Choose life,--with honor such as Sparta lays On those who serve but her. This treachery That we've by hap unbagged in 'ts eanling hour Shall be safe snugged again. And cherished too!

For in my eyes it is the one brave flower Of your most barren being. None shall know it, And Sparta, as she will, may laurels weave About your faith.

_Bia._ But Hieron?

_Pyrr._ [_To Hieron_] You'll swear with me? [_He hesitates_]

In Sparta's name? [_Takes his hand_] And mine?

_Bia._ No, no!

_Hie._ I'll swear.

_Bia._ Oh, not that price! No, till the end O' the world!

_Pyrr._ Life, Biades, life!

_Bia._ I will not do it!

Athens may singly conquer!

_Pyrr._ Then you die By Sparta's hand, and Athens holds your name Accursed through time. The irons, Hieron.

[_Biades hunches despairingly, his face hidden_]

_Pyrr._ [_Apart_] G.o.ds! He will yield!

_Bia._ [_Looking up_] I'll do it,--dare to live,-- And Attica may call me what she will.

A traitor breathes, and feels the blessed sun.

He's ne'er so poor but can his housing find In alms-lapped Nature. Her unchoosing airs Ask not his name before they touch his brow And tell him when 'tis spring. He yet may dream In unrebuking shades, and birds will sing As liquidly as though he were not by.

Food is yet food, and wine is ever wine.

I will not die. [_Rises_] By Maia's son, I'll live!

What is my country but the bit of earth Where chance did sp.a.w.n me? 'Tis no treachery.

We're traitors unto love, not hate,--to trust, Not doubt and slander such as Athens poured Upon me guiltless.

_Pyrr._ [_Crossing to him_] So you've found a way To save both life and honor!

_Bia._ May a worm Not creep to cleaner dust? Pyrrha, be kind.

Spare me the trampling foot.

_Pyrr._ We've lost an hour.

You'll send to Phernes?

_Bia._ First we'll signal him.

He may be setting off. We must despatch, For if he saw no sign he meant to draw His fleet from doubtful waters and give aid To neither side. [_Taking up a light_] Three cressets--that was true.

When once these lights have spoken, he'll receive Your envoy as myself. Then Hieron May bear confirming word to him, and bring a.s.surance back.