Chapter 3Scene 2

The colonnade of a house in Antioch, overlooking the sea. Antiochus, Philoctetes. ANTIOCHUS The summons comes not and my life still waits. PHILOCTETES Patience, beloved Antiochus. Even now He fronts the darkness. ANTIOCHUS Nothing have I spoken As wishing for his death. His was a mould That should have been immortal. But since all Are voyagers to one goal and wishing’s vain To hold one traveller back, I keep my hopes. O Philoctetes, we who missed his life, Should have the memory of his end! Unseen He goes from us into the shades, unknown: We are denied his solemn hours. PHILOCTETES All men Are not like thee, my monarch, and this king Was great but dangerous as a lion is Who lives in deserts mightily alone. Admire him from that distance. ANTIOCHUS O fear and base suspicion, evillest part Of Nature, how you spoil our grandiose life!

Act I, Scene 2 All heights are lowered, our wide embrace restrained, God’s natural sunshine darkened by your fault. We were not meant for darkness, plots and hatred Reading our baseness in another’s mind, But like good wrestlers, hearty comrades, hearty foes, To take and give in life’s great lists together Blows and embraces. PHILOCTETES A mother’s love, a mother’s fears Earn their excuse. ANTIOCHUS I care not for such love. O Philoctetes, all this happy night I could not sleep; for proud dreams came to me In which I sat on Syria’s puissant throne, Or marched through Parthia with the iron pomps Of war resounding in my train, or swam My charger through the Indus undulant, Or up to Ganges and the torrid south Restored once more the Syrian monarchy. It is divinity on earth to be a king. PHILOCTETES But if the weaker prove the elder born? If Timocles were Fate’s elected king? ANTIOCHUS Dear merry Timocles! he would not wish To wear the iron burden of a crown; If he has joy, it is enough for him. Sunshine and laughter and the arms of friends Guard his fine monarchy of cheerful mind. PHILOCTETES If always Fate were careful to fit in

Rodogune The nature with the lot! But she sometimes Loves these strange contrasts and crude ironies. ANTIOCHUS Has not nurse Mentho often sworn to me That I, not he, saw earth the first? PHILOCTETES And when Did woman’s tongue except in wrath or malice Deliver truth that’s bitter? ANTIOCHUS Philoctetes, Do you not wish me to be king? PHILOCTETES Why left I then Nile in his fields and Egypt slumbering Couchant upon her sands, but to pursue Your gallant progress sailing through life’s seas Shattering opponents till your flag flew high, Sole admiral-ship of all this kingly world? But since upon this random earth unjust We travel stumbling to the pyre, not led By any Power nor any law, and neither What we desire nor what we deserve Arrives, but unintelligible dooms O’ertake us and the travesty of things, It is better not to hope too much. ANTIOCHUS It is better To lift our hopes heaven-high and to extend them As wide as earth. Heaven did not give me in vain This royal nature and this kingly form, These thoughts that wear a crown. They were not meant

Act I, Scene 2 For mockery nor to fret a subject’s heart. Do you not hear the ardour of those hooves? My kingdom rides to me. He hastens to the other end of the colonnade. PHILOCTETES O glorious youth Whose young heroic arms would gird the world, I like a proud and anxious mother follow, Desiring, fearing, drawn by cords of hope and love, Admire and doubt, exult and quake and chide. She is so glad of her brave, beautiful child, But trembles lest his courage and his beauty Alarm the fatal jealousy that watches us From thrones unseen. Thoas and Melitus enter from the gates. THOAS Are these the Syrian twins? PHILOCTETES The elder of them only, Antiochus Of Syria. THOAS Son of Nicanor! Antiochus The high Seleucid travels the dull stream And Syria’s throne is empty for his heir. ANTIOCHUS A glorious sun has fallen then from heaven Saddening the nations, even those he smote. It is the rule of Nature makes us rise Despite our hearts replacing what we love, And I am happy who am called so soon To rule a nation of such princely men. Are you not Thoas?

Rodogune THOAS Thoas of Macedon. ANTIOCHUS Thoas, we shall be friends. Will it be long Before we march together through the world To stable our horses in Persepolis? He turns to speak to Timocles who has just entered and goes into the house. MELITUS This is a royal style and kingly brow. THOAS The man is royal. What a face looks forth From under that bright aureole of hair! TIMOCLES I greet you, Syrians. Shall I know your names? MELITUS Melitus. This is Thoas. TIMOCLES Melitus? Oh yes, of Macedon. MELITUS No, Antioch. TIMOCLES It is the same. We talked of you in Alexandria and in Thebes, All of you famous captains. Your great names Are known to us, as now yourselves must be Known and admired and loved.

Act I, Scene 2 MELITUS Your courtesy Overwhelms me; but I am no captain, only The King’s poor chamberlain, your servant come To greet you. TIMOCLES Not therefore less a cherished friend Whose duty helps our daily happiness. Thoas, your name is in our country’s book Inscribed too deeply to demand poor praise From one who never yet has drawn his sword In anger. THOAS I am honoured, Prince. Do not forget Your mother is waiting for you after eighteen years. TIMOCLES My mother! O, I have a mother at last. You lords shall tell me as we go, how fair She is or dark like our Egyptian dames, Noble and tall or else a brevity Of queenhood. And her face — but that, be sure, Is the sweet loving face I have seen so often In Egypt when I lay awake at night And heard the breezes whispering outside With many voices in the moonlit hours. It is late, Thoas, is it not, a child to see His mother when eighteen years have made him big? This, this is Paradise, a mother, friends And Syria. In our swart Egypt ’twas no life, — Although I liked it well when I was there; But O, your Syria! I have spent whole hours Watching your gracile Syrian women pass With their bright splendid faces. And your flowers, What flowers! and best of all, your sun, not like

Rodogune That burning Egypt, but a warmth, a joy And a kind brightness. It will be all pleasure To reign in such a country. ANTIOCHUS (returning from the house) Let us ride Into our kingdom. TIMOCLES Antioch in sweet Syria, The realm for gods, and Daphne’s golden groves, And swift Orontes hastening to the sea! Ride by me, Melitus, tell me everything.