-47_Rodogune-Act Two-Scene-4.htm

The hall in the palace.
Timocles, Phayllus.

TIMOCLES

O, all the sweetness and the glory gathered

Into one smiling life, the others left

Barren, unbearable, bleak, desolate,

A hell of silence and of emptiness

Impossible for mortal souls to imagine,

Much less to suffer. My mother does this wrong to me!

Why should not we, kind brothers all our lives, —

O, how we loved each other there in Egypt! —

Divide this prize? Let his be Syria’s crown, —

Oh, let him take it! I have Rodogune.

PHAYLLUS

He will consent?

TIMOCLES

Oh, yes, and with a smile.
He is all loftiness and warlike thoughts.
My high Antiochus! how could I dream
Of taking from him what he’ld wear so well ?
Let me have love and joy and Rodogune.
The sunlight is enough for me.

PHAYLLUS

It may be,
Yet not enough for both. Look! there he comes
Carrying himself as if he were the sun
Brilliant alone in heaven. Oh, that to darken!

Antiochus enters.

TIMOCLES

Brother, it is the kind gods send you here.  

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ANTIOCHUS

Dear Timocles, we meet not all the day.
It was not so in Egypt. Tell me now,
What were you doing all these busy hours?
How many laughing girls of this fair land
Have you lured on to love you ?

TIMOCLES

Have you not heard ?

ANTIOCHUS

What, Timocles?

TIMOCLES

Our mother gives the crown
And with the crown apportions Rodogune.

ANTIOCHUS

Our royal mother ? Are they hers to give ?
I do not marry by another’s will.

TIMOCLES

O brother, no; our hearts at least are ours.
You have not marked, I think, Antiochus,
This pale sweet Parthian Rodogune ?

ANTIOCHUS (smiling)

No, brother?

I have not marked, you say ?

TIMOCLES

You are so blind
To woman’s beauty. You only woo great deeds
And arms imperial. It is well for me
You rather chose to wed the grandiose earth.
I am ashamed to tell you, dear Antiochus,
I grudged the noble crown that soon will rest  

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So gloriously upon you. Take it, brother,
But leave me my dim goddess, Rodogune.

ANTIOCHUS

Thy goddess! thine!

TIMOCLES

It is not possible
That you too love her!

ANTIOCHUS

What is it to thee whom or what I love ?
Say that I love her not?

TIMOCLES

Then is my offer
Just, brotherly, not like this causeless wrath.

ANTIOCHUS

Thy wondrous offer! Of two things that were mine
To fling me over with "There, I want it not,
I’ll take the other"!

TIMOCLES (in a suffocated voice)

Has she made thee king?

ANTIOCHUS

I need no human voice to make me anything,
Who am king by birth and nature. Who else should reign
In Syria? Thoughts! thou thy light and shallow head
Was meant to wear a crown?

TIMOCLES

In Egypt you were not like this, Antiochus.

ANTIOCHUS

See not the Parthian even in dreams at night!  

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Remember not her name!

TIMOCLES

She is my mother’s slave:

I’ll ask for her and have her.

ANTIOCHUS

Thou shalt have
My sword across thy heart-strings first. She is
The kingdom’s prize and with the kingdom mine.

TIMOCLES

My dream, my goddess with those wondrous eyes!
My sweet veiled star cloistered in her own charm!
I will not yield her to thee, nor the crown,
Not wert thou twenty times my brother.

PHAYLLUS

Capital!
Delightful! O my fortune! my kind fortune!

TIMOCLES

Thou lov’st her not who dar’st to think of her
As if she were a prize for any arms,
Thy slave, thy chattel.

ANTIOCHUS

Speak not another word.

PHAYLLUS

More! more! My star, thou risest o’er this storm.

ANTIOCHUS

I pardon thee, my brother Timocles;

Thy light passions are thy excuse. Henceforth
Offend not. For the Parthian, she is mine
And I would keep her though a god desired.

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Exalt not thy presumptuous eyes henceforth
Higher than her sandals.

He goes out.

PHAYLLUS

This is your brother!
Shall he not have the crown ?

TIMOCLES

Nor her, nor Syria.

Rodogune and Eunice enter

passing through the hall.

My Rodogune, my star! Thou knowest the trade
Which others seek to make of thee. Resist it,
Prevent the insult of this cold award!
Say that thou lov’st me.

RODOGUNE

Prince, I pity thee,
But cannot love.

She passes out.

EUNICE

My cousin Timocles,
All flowers are not for your plucking. Roses
Enough that crave to satisfy your want
Are grown in Syria; take them. Here be wise;

Touch not my Parthian blossom.

She passes out.

TIMOCLES

How am I smitten as with a thunderbolt!

PHAYLLUS

Will you be dashed by this ? They make her think
Antiochus will reign in Syria.

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TIMOCLES

No,

She loves him.

PHAYLLUS

Is love so quickly born ? ‘Oh, then,
It will as quickly die. Eunice works here
To thwart you; she is for Antiochus.

TIMOCLES

All, all are for Antiochus, the crown,

And Syria and men’s homage, women’s hearts

And life and sweetness and my love.

PHAYLLUS

Young prince,
Be more a man. Besiege the girl with gifts
And graces; woo her like a queen or force her
Like what she is, a slave. Be strong, be sudden,
Forestalling this proud brother.

TIMOCLES

I would not wrong her pure and shrouded soul
Though all the gods in heaven should give me leave.

PHAYLLUS

The graceful, handsome fool! Then from your mother
Demand her as a gift.

TIMOCLES (going)

My soul once more
Is hunted by the tempest.  

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