Chapter 6Scene 3

The Palace of Cepheus. A room in the women’s apartments. Praxilla, to her enters Diomede. DIOMEDE O Praxilla, Praxilla! PRAXILLA So, thou art back, thou tall inutility? Where wert thou lingering all this hour? I am tired of always whipping thee. I will hire thee out to a timber-merchant to carry logs from dawn to nightfall. Thou shalt learn what labour is. DIOMEDE Praxilla, O Praxilla! I am full to the throat with news. I pray you, rip me open. PRAXILLA Willingly. She advances towards her with an uplifted knife. DIOMEDE (escaping) A plague! can you not appreciate a fine metaphor when you hear it? I never saw so prosaic a mortal. The soul in you was born of a marriage between a saucepan and a broomstick. PRAXILLA Tell me your news. If it is good, I will excuse you your whipping. DIOMEDE I was out on the beach thinking to watch the seagulls flying and crying in the wind amidst the surf dashing and the black cliff-heads —

Perseus the Deliverer PRAXILLA And could not Poseidon turn thee into a gull there among thy natural kindred? Thou wert better fitted with that shape than in a reasonable human body. DIOMEDE Oh then you shall hear the news tell itself, mistress, when the whole town has chewed it and rechewed it. She is going. PRAXILLA Stop, you long-limbed impertinence. The news! DIOMEDE I’ll be hanged if I tell you. PRAXILLA You shall be whipped, if you do not. DIOMEDE Well, your goddess Switch is a potent divinity. A ship with men from the East has broken on the headland below the temple and two Chaldeans are saved alive for the altar. PRAXILLA This is glorious news indeed. DIOMEDE It will be a great day when they are sacrificed! PRAXILLA We have not had such since the long galley from Cnossus grounded upon our shores and the temple was washed richly with blood and the altar blushed as thickly with hearts of victims as the King’s throne with rubies. Poseidon was pleased that year and the harvest was so plentiful, men were brought in from beyond the hills to reap it.

Act I, Scene 3 DIOMEDE There would have been a third victim, but Prince Iolaus drew sword on the priest Polydaon to defend him. PRAXILLA I hope this is not true. DIOMEDE I saw it. PRAXILLA Is the wild boy In love with ruin? Not the King himself Can help him if the grim sacrificant Demand his fair young head: only a god Could save him. And he was already in peril From Polydaon’s gloomy hate! DIOMEDE And Phineus’. PRAXILLA Hush, silly madcap, hush; or speak much lower. DIOMEDE Here comes my little queen of love, stepping As daintily as a young bird in spring When he would take the hearts of all the forest. Andromeda enters. PRAXILLA You have slept late, Andromeda. ANDROMEDA Have I? The sun had risen in my dreams: perhaps I feared to wake lest I should find all dark

Perseus the Deliverer Once more, Praxilla. DIOMEDE He has risen in your eyes, For they are full of sunshine, little princess. ANDROMEDA I have dreamed, Diomede, I have dreamed. DIOMEDE What did you dream? ANDROMEDA I dreamed my sun had risen. He had a face like the Olympian Zeus And wings upon his feet. He smiled upon me, Diomede. PRAXILLA Dreams are full of stranger fancies. Why, I myself have seen hooved bears, winged lions, And many other monsters in my dreams. ANDROMEDA My sun was a bright god and bore a flaming sword To kill all monsters. DIOMEDE I think I’ve seen today Your sun, my little playmate. ANDROMEDA No, you have not. I’ll not have any eyes see him but mine: He is my own, my very own.

Act I, Scene 3 DIOMEDE And yet I saw him on the wild sea-beach this morning. PRAXILLA What mean you, Diomede? DIOMEDE (to Andromeda) You have not heard? A ship was flung upon the rocks this morning And all her human burden drowned. ANDROMEDA Alas! DIOMEDE It was a marvellous sight, my little playmate, And made my blood with horror and admiration Run richer in my veins. The great ship groaned While the rough boulders dashed her into pieces, The men with desperate shrieks went tumbling down Mid laughters of the surge, strangled twixt billows Or torn by strips upon the savage rocks That tossed their mangled bodies back again Into the cruel keeping of the surge. ANDROMEDA O do not tell me any more! How had you heart To look at what I cannot bear to hear? For while you spoke, I felt as if the rocks Were tearing my own limbs and the salt surge Choking me. DIOMEDE I suppose it must have hurt them. Yes, it was pitiful. Still, ’twas a sight. Meanwhile the deep surf boomed their grandiose dirge

Perseus the Deliverer With fierce triumphant voices. The whole scene Was like a wild stupendous sacrifice Offered by the grey-filleted grim surges On the gigantic altar of the rocks To the calm cliffs seated like gods above. ANDROMEDA Alas, the unhappy men, the poor drowned men Who had young children somewhere whom they loved! How could you watch them die? Had I been a god, I would not let this cruel thing have happened. DIOMEDE Why do you weep for them? they were not Syrians. PRAXILLA Not they, but barbarous jabbering foreigners From Indus or Arabia. Fie, my child, You sit upon the floor and weep for these? ANDROMEDA When Iolaus fell upon the rocks And hurt himself, you did not then forbid me To weep! PRAXILLA He is your brother. That was loving, Tender and right. ANDROMEDA And these men were not brothers? They too had sisters who will feel as I should If my dear brother were to die so wretchedly. PRAXILLA Let their own sisters weep for them: we have Enough of our own sorrows. You are young

Act I, Scene 3 And softly made: because you have yourself No griefs, but only childhood’s soon-dried tears, You make a luxury of others’ woes. So when we watch a piteous tragedy, We grace with real tears its painted sorrows. When you are older and have true things to weep for, Then you will understand. ANDROMEDA I’ll not be older! I will not understand! I only know That men are heartless and your gods most cruel. I hate them! PRAXILLA Hush, hush! You know not what you say. You must not speak such things. Come, Diomede, Tell her the rest. ANDROMEDA (covering her ears with her hands) I will not hear you. DIOMEDE (kneeling by her and drawing her hands away) But I Will tell you of your bright sungod. ANDROMEDA He is not My sungod or he would have saved them. DIOMEDE He did. ANDROMEDA (leaping to her feet) Then tell me of him.

Perseus the Deliverer DIOMEDE Suddenly there dawned A man, a vision, a brightness, who descended From where I know not, but to me it seemed That the blue heavens just then created him Out of the sunlight. His face and radiant body Aspired to copy the Olympian Zeus And wings were on his feet. ANDROMEDA He was my sungod! DIOMEDE He caught two drowning wretches by the robe And drew them safe to land. ANDROMEDA He was my sungod. Diomede, I have seen him in my dream. PRAXILLA I think it was Poseidon come to take His tithe of all that death for the ancient altar, Lest all be engulfed by his grey billows, he Go quite unhonoured. DIOMEDE Hang up your grim Poseidon! This was a sweet and noble face all bright With manly kindness. ANDROMEDA O I know, I know. Where went he with those rescued? DIOMEDE Why, just then

Act I, Scene 3 Prince Iolaus and his band leaped forth And took them. ANDROMEDA (angrily) Wherefore took them? By what right? DIOMEDE To die according to our Syrian law On dark Poseidon’s altar. ANDROMEDA They shall not die. It is a shame, a cruel cold injustice. I wonder that my brother had any part in it! My sungod saved them, they belong to him, Not to your hateful gods. They are his and mine, I will not let you kill them. PRAXILLA Why, they must die And you will see it done, my little princess. You shall! Where are you going? ANDROMEDA Let me go. I do not love you when you talk like this. PRAXILLA But you are Syria’s lady and must appear At these high ceremonies. ANDROMEDA I had rather be A beggar’s daughter who devours the remnants Rejected from your table, than reign a queen Doing such cruelty.

Perseus the Deliverer PRAXILLA Little passionate scold! You mean not what you say. A beggar’s daughter! You? You who toss about if only a rose-leaf Crinkle the creamy smoothness of your sheets, And one harsh word flings weeping broken-hearted As if the world had no more joy in store. You are a little posturer, you make A theatre of your own mind to act in, Take parts, declaim such childish rhetoric As that you speak now. You a beggar’s daughter! Come, listen what became of your bright sungod. DIOMEDE Him too they would have seized, but he with steel Opposed and tranquil smiling eyes appalled them. Then Polydaon came and Phineus came And bade arrest the brilliant god. Our Prince, Seized by his glory, with his virgin point Resisted their assault. ANDROMEDA My Iolaus! DIOMEDE All suddenly the stranger’s lifted shield Became a storm of lightnings. Dawn was blinded: Far promontories leaped out in the blaze, The surges were illumined and the horizon Answered with light. ANDROMEDA (clapping her hands) O glorious! O my dream! PRAXILLA You tell the actions of a mighty god, Diomede.

Act I, Scene 3 DIOMEDE A god he seemed to us, Praxilla. The soldiers ran in terror, Polydaon Went snorting off like a black whale harpooned, And even Phineus fled. ANDROMEDA Was he not killed? I wish he had been killed. PRAXILLA This is your pity! ANDROMEDA (angrily) I do not pity tigers, wolves and scorpions. I pity men who are weak and beasts that suffer. PRAXILLA I thought you loved all men and living things. ANDROMEDA Perhaps I could have loved him like my hound Or the lion in the park who lets me pat his mane. But since he would have me even without my will To foul with his beast touch, my body abhors him. PRAXILLA Fie, fie! you speak too violently. How long Will you be such a child? DIOMEDE Our Iolaus And that bright stranger then embraced. Together They left the beach. ANDROMEDA Where, where is Iolaus?

Perseus the Deliverer Why is he long in coming? I must see him. I have a thousand things to ask. She runs out. DIOMEDE She is A strange unusual child, my little playmate. PRAXILLA None can help loving her, she is in charm Compelling: but her mind is wry and warped. She is not natural, not sound in fancy, But made of wild uncurbed imaginations, With feelings as unruly as winds and waves And morbid sympathies. At times she talks Strange childish blasphemies that make me tremble. She would impose her fancies on the world As better than the eternal laws that rule us! I wish her mother had brought her up more strictly, For she will come to harm. DIOMEDE Oh, do not say it! I have seen no child in all our Syria like her, None her bright equal in beauty. She pleases me Like days of sunlight rain when spring caresses Warmly the air. Oh, here is Iolaus. PRAXILLA Is it he? DIOMEDE I know him by the noble strut He has put on ever since they made him captain. Andromeda comes running.

Act I, Scene 3 ANDROMEDA My brother comes! I saw him from the terrace. Enters Iolaus. Andromeda runs and embraces him. Oh, Iolaus, have you brought him to me? Where is my sungod? IOLAUS In heaven, little sister. ANDROMEDA Oh, do not laugh at me. I want my sungod Whose face is like the grand Olympian Zeus’ And wings are on his feet. Where did you leave him After you took him from our rough sea-beaches? IOLAUS What do you mean, Andromeda? DIOMEDE Some power Divine sent her a dream of that bright strength Which shone by you on the sea-beach today, And him she calls her sungod. IOLAUS Is it so? My little wind-tossed rose Andromeda! I shall be glad indeed if Heaven intends this. ANDROMEDA Where is he? IOLAUS Do you not know, little rose-sister, The great gods visit earth by splendid moments And then are lost to sight? Come, do not weep; He is not lost to Syria.

Perseus the Deliverer ANDROMEDA Iolaus, Why did you take the two poor foreign men And give them to the priest? My sungod saved them, Brother, — what right had you to kill? IOLAUS My child, I only did my duty as a soldier, Yet grieve I was compelled. ANDROMEDA Now will you save them? IOLAUS But they belong to dread Poseidon now! ANDROMEDA What will be done to them? IOLAUS They must be bound On the god’s altar and their living hearts Ripped from their blood-choked breasts to feed his hunger. Andromeda covers her face with her robe. Grieve not for them: they but fulfil their fate. These things are in the order of the world Like plagues and slaughters, famines, fires and earthquakes, Which when they pass us by killing their thousands, We should not weep for, but be grateful only That other souls than the dear heads we loved Have perished. ANDROMEDA You will not save them?

Act I, Scene 3 PRAXILLA Unhappy girl! It is impiety to think of it. Fie! Would you have your brother killed for your whimsies? ANDROMEDA Will you not save them, brother? IOLAUS I cannot, child. ANDROMEDA Then I will. She goes out. IOLAUS Does she mean it? PRAXILLA Such wild caprices Are always darting through her brain. IOLAUS I could not take Poseidon’s wrath upon my head! PRAXILLA Forget it As she will too. Her strange imaginations Flutter awhile among her golden curls, But soon wing off with careless flight to Lethe. Medes enters. IOLAUS What is it, Medes?

Perseus the Deliverer MEDES The King, Prince Iolaus, Requires your presence in his audience-chamber. IOLAUS So? Tell me, Medes, is Poseidon’s priest In presence there? MEDES He is and full of wrath. IOLAUS Go, tell them I am coming. Medes goes out. PRAXILLA Alas! IOLAUS Fear not. I have a strength the grim intriguers dream not of. Let not my sister hear this, Diomede. He goes. PRAXILLA What may not happen! The priest is dangerous, Poseidon may be angry. Let us go And guard our child from peril of this shock. They go.