*(Theseus Recognized by his Father by Hippolyte Flandrin)

 

 

 

 

The Characters

 

Aegeus, King of Athens

Ariadne, daughter of Minos

Athena, patron goddess of Athens

Daedalus, an inventor 

High Priestess of Knossos

Hypnos, god of sleep

Icarus, son of Daedalus

Leos, an Athenian

Medea, a sorceress and wife of Aegeus

Medus, son of Medea and Aegeus

Minos, King of Crete

The Minotaur

Nobleman 1

Nobleman 2

Phaedra, daughter of Minos

A Sentinel of Athens

Theseus, a man of Troezen

 

nobles, palace guards, and youths of Athens

servants of Aegeus

nobles, musicians, and priestesses of Crete

palace guards of Knossos

 

 

 

 

Act I

 

 

Scene I

 

[a road outside Athens – lights up on a Sentinel, who stands with a spear]

 

Sentinel:

The almost windless wind and rainless rain:

Soft elements proceed from where are placed

Suggestions of the weather, and they bless

The heads of humble men who walk these ways,

So lightly touching them – and slight withdraw

Spring’s heat from sweating skin. How lovely is’t

To watch the fruiting boughs of cypresses

Bobbing with breeze, and fig and apple sigh

Day after day, as men pass ’long the roads

Like silent things, far off, to trade and sell

At local fairs, or visit friends they know,

Or bring their kind devotions to the shrines

Nestled in grove and glade. In mild clime

I stand so many days, and thank the things

Above me in the clouds that they respire

A grace of drizzle, gusts of cooling drops.

 

[enter Theseus with a bronze club, wearing a sword]

 

A moment, stranger. You must speak with me.

 

Theseus:

Why? Who are you? And what do you wish?

 

Sentinel:

Know you not, sir? Yonder o’er these hills

Sits Athens. I, a sentry, keep this road,

And question those I do not recognize.

So is it with a kingdom: honest men

May enter – but the suspect are rebuffed, 

And bidden swindle elsewhere. Now I ask

In kindness, what thy name is, where thou’rt from,

And eke thy business.

 

Theseus:

                                            Oh – is’t true, good man,

At Athens’ porch I linger? Walk of trials,

Of dangers, ’tis behind me – bless the sprite

Who’s warded peril from me!

 

Sentinel:

                                                          I doubt not

That brigands of the land thy trek have plagued –

But tell me, please, the three things that I ask.

Not all those who’ve faced bandits are themselves

Intent on only upright dealings here.

 

Theseus:

Of course. With gladness shall I tell my name:

They call me Theseus, of Troezen fair.

I come up from that sleepy town down south –

 

Sentinel:

Is’t so? There’re rumors say one Theseus

From ’cross the gulf hath ’gun to slay the thieves

So rampant on these paths – and giants, too,

Those hulking miscreants.

 

Theseus:

                                                       Thou’st heard the truth.

Look thou upon this club: whilom was’t swung

By one who stood two times the normal height:

Corynetes, lame in one leg, one-eyed –

And now no more, his depredations ceased.

 

Sentinel:

And how was’t done?

 

Theseus:

                                             I let the fellow chase

My dashing movements, nimbler than a fox

Or frantic rabbit; and my punches fell

Where faced he not – then soon upon the earth

All sprawled he lay.

 

Sentinel:

                                        The rumors also tell

Thou’st Pityocamptes slain.

 

Theseus:

                                                         ’Tis true: that rogue

Who’d strap his victims’ legs to two close trees –

Young specimens, elastic, pliable –

Which he’d bent down, and then let spring the trunks

So that the body ripped apart, and flew…

As he did rend so oft, so he’s been rent.

 

Sentinel:

And Sceiron, and Procrustes – I have heard

Their fates as well were fitting to their deeds.

 

Theseus:

About midway upon the isthmus road,

Where cliffs abruptly drop into the drink

Which froths and splatters, wetting all the face

Of those sheer rocks – the tumult of the waves

Roaring like creatures – formerly a rogue,

The first you mentioned, worked his wicked feat

For years upon each traveler he caught –

Forcing the wretch to wash his dusty soles

Within a bowl he kept close by the edge

Of level land; then, cleansing all complete,

His victim would he shove to rocks below,

A prey for turtle’s beak.

 

Sentinel:

                                                What sayest thou?

A turtle, truth?

 

Theseus:

                              A turtle’s what I say:

A hungry sea-thing, larger than a ship.

But no more easy snacks shall it enjoy,

For when I knelt before that horrid man

To lave his toes, I promptly lunged at him

And scooped him by his knees, and hurl’d him off

That drop as though he were a weightless doll.

Below I heard the reptile snap its jaws;

And washing face and hands, I went my way.

 

Sentinel:

And what of him who’d offer folks his bed,

And either lop or stretch him, so he’d fit?

 

Theseus:

The bloke himself did rather overhang

His stringent bed, but he’s been cut to size.

 

Sentinel:

Oh friend, thou’st told thy town, but I must ask

Who are thy parents – not ’cause ’tis my charge,

But so I’d know what god engendered thee.

 

Theseus:

What dost thou mean? My father was a man –

Though who, I wit not… surely not divine!

My mother, rest assured, is mortal too:

The cold and crystal realms I cannot claim

As heritage.

 

Sentinel:

                        Thou’st heard of Hercules?

 

Theseus:

Of certain.

 

Sentinel:

                      Think upon who sired that man,

Then on his many deeds destroying foes –

Such feats! – then how thine own begin approach

That wondrous strength. 

 

Theseus:

                                                   ’Tis true somewhat exceeds

My prowess what’s the norm – but much I doubt

Some godly vim produced me: what instead

Lends force to limbs, is love, my longing heart.

The strength of Venus slew those murderers;

Her guiding blessing swept me round the gulf –

For in a dream, while yet a cool-blood lad,

I saw the one she deems should be my wife.

 

In sleep, one knows the place where one doth stand

E’en though one’s never been there – or the place

One sees is somewhat like its counterpart

Within the waking realm… So, by some means

Mysterious, asleep, I knew I walked

Beside the hedgerows that surround the skirts

Of Athens, in the shining countryside.

 

Sentinel:

There are some hedges run close by the town.

They mark a vintner’s field off from the next.

 

Theseus:

I seemed to see her, walking round and round

The turnings of the well-trimmed shrubbery,

With black hair loosely blowing all which-ways,

And peplos white and stainless, constant-tossed

By winds that swept in from a scarlet sky

Like snoring from the sleeping giants’ isle.

Her back she kept e’er towards me – yet her face…

Somehow I saw it by that secret sense

Which also told me near which town I walked. 

 

Six times I saw her in the dreams of night

And six times in the dreams that come midday

Upon the winded huntsman (such as I)

When nods he ’long the winding forest trails,

No longer caught up in the whooping chase.

And in my last of dreams, this girl I saw

Crawl down within some corner of a hedge

Where leafy spread obstructed golden gaze

Of glaring driver from his blazing car.

I followed her to where that darkness clung –

But she had disappeared; and nothing stirred, 

Not leaf nor blade of grass. 

 

                                                        Somehow I knew,

On waking, she would not appear again

Within my heart… but might, in conscious life,

If I did seek what dreams did point me towards:

Her lasting counterpart upon this world,

This daylight world, and somewhere by this town.

I started up – the afternoon had flown.

The woods kept soundless, all the hounds far off;

And no more to mine hunting did I bend,

But rather wandered home. 

 

                                                          My mother heard

Of my intent to seek that northern site,

The Attic city – for, I said, I wished

The wife my sleep did show, that spouse assured

By fateful dreaming… And my mother smiled,

And blinked with tears; and saying not a word

Then led me to a meadow overgrown

With weeds and shrubs, our yard outside the door,

Too over-wild to garden, rich but rough,

Riddled with wrapping roots. 

 

                                                             A massive stone

There stands, that I was much acquainted with

Through boyhood play – and this my mother bade

I roll some little ways. I thought her mad,

Of course, and shrugged and argued wildly,

Shaking my head; but so much she enjoined

I make attempt, at last with doubting shove

The rock I tried… and – so astonishing! –

It moved before my pressing easily,

As easy as a bale of hay might roll.

And underneath, once my surprise had fall’n,

A flashing found I – and it was a sword,

The lower side begrimed, but clean and pure

Was top, which winked at me. My mother said

To grasp it, and to bear it with me north –

And so I do; though why the blade was hid

I know not, and I thought not right to ask –

For something in my mother’s face did joy

That not yet might I learn.

 

                                                      So travel I

To where I almost reach, still thinking on

That maiden of the fields, dream-vanished now.

My heart is with her, but she’s not with me;

And therefore is my heart absent my chest –

And souls who’re sundered ever seek to make

Themselves whole, as the wise man virtue seeks.

 

Sentinel:

How shouldst thou know her, in thy country search?

 

Theseus:

By that same sense which told me where I walked

And shall walk – though ’twas all unknown to me,

This land of mildness and soft sloping lawns,

Ere intuitions strange.

 

Sentinel:

                                               And if ye fail

To find her?

 

Theseus:

                           Then all lonesome I’ll return

To Troezen – but I trust it shall not be.

 

Sentinel:

The town is but two miles up the road.

Thou look’st in need of rest… Let me advise

One thing, ere thou thy love begin’st to seek:

Repair unto the palace. Tell thy name,

Who art, what thou’st accomplished – and I’m sure

The king shall grant thee choicest bed and board,

A bath, too: these shall only start the boons

Thou mayst expect. Indeed, the populace

Might well identify, regale thee ere

King’s threshold reach ye. Kind is he, the lord

Of Athens, though old age and much of care

’Gin gnaw upon his bones. He shall not stint,

I warrant, to reward thee past thy wants

Now Athens knows a safe road toward the south.

 

Theseus:

I thank thee, man – and pleasant eve to thee.

The gods upon the mountain keep thee hale.

 

Sentinel:

And may they guide thy way, and never fail.

 

[exit Theseus, lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene II

 

[a room in the royal palace of Athens – lights up on Medea, who is sitting and peering into a crystal ball]

 

Medea:

Now Jason rolls and writhes in pit of grief,

The darksome place where torment shall not die;

And ever lives with him the memory 

Of agonies his loved ones felt at death.

Nine years have gone, but still his sorrow lives:

In Corinth doth he languish and lament

And bid adieu, sans cease, to lovèd wife

And children, as they’re lowered in the grave –

Forever lowered, hour after hour,

Day after day, a funeral for aye.

 

The poisoned robe for Glance, and the knife

Slashed ’cross the throat of my dear little ones:

These instruments for Jason come again –

Again, and ever: torture without halt.

The shroud of woe, the stabbing thrusts of hurt:

They burn and pierce each hour a heart which heals

Only to die anew, spilling its blood

That newly sprung was, hoping long to thrive.

So Hades finds a hold above his realm,

And grinds one living soul beneath his curse

Of living death – the nightmare of the damned –

As Ixion is crushed beneath the wheel,

And Tantalus forever may not reach

The fruits of sweetness, nor the pool’s relief:

A curse that pins one to a moment’s ache,

Forever slaying, though it never slays…

And in my gazing orb each hour I’ll watch

That man who shall for always feel my loss.

 

[lingers – cheering from outside can be faintly heard – looks away, then back into the orb]

 

And now a new thing gathers ’fore my eyes:

It is a man I’ve never seen before…

Of rugged build and handsome, youthful face,

Who to this royal mansion doth approach.

He’s walking through the center of the town

And’s greeted warmly by the crowding throng,

Taking the strangers’ hugs, accepting gifts,

Kissing the maidens, being hoisted up

And though he were some hero to this place,

Some champion who’s rescued each and all…

I wonder what he’s done – and why this house

Of Aegeus seems his goal. 

 

                                                     My little boy,

My Medus, is the king’s sole son and heir,

And shall, I’ve promised him, rule Athens soon

With me to guide him in his gloried reign.

Of this man being cheered I must know more…

[calls out] Oh Medus! Are you there? Come to me, child.

 

[she covers the crystal ball with a fabric – enter Medus]

 

Medus, my dear boy…

 

Medus:

                                                What wouldst, oh mother?

Just now with hoops and tops I playing was

With all my friends o’er there, when we did hear

That ruckus from outside – and both my chums

Could from the noise discern what name was cheered:

’Twas ‘Theseus.’ From casement then we saw

The man himself, swept by that happy tide,

Approaching our high house; and I did ask

Why he’s so loved.

 

Medea:

                                      What said thy friends?

 

Medus:

                                                                                   They said

He’s much revered for all the thieves he’s slain

From Troezen up to here: by fists or club

Or sword they’ve fallen all, each one who deemed

This traveler an easy prey; and e’en

The giants cruel and petty lords are gone,

All thanks to him.

 

Medea:

[pauses]                    Come sit with me, my child.

 

[he sits and she puts her arm around him]   

 

Medus:

What grieves you, mother? Oft I’ve seen you stare

Into your sphere; and often have I asked

The thing that pains you, but you’ve never said,

And only told me I’m too young to know.

 

Medea:

Thou shouldst not worry. I would keep you blithe

And innocent – is that not what you want?

To stay in childhood, playing with thy toys

And friends, ling’ring in golden morning’s glow?

Ask not, my sweet one.

 

Medus:

                                                Oh, but thou hast wept

As crystal thou hast studied – I have glimpsed

Thy sorrow from a corner, or the door,

And seen thy tears: I am not innocent

Of pity, and I wish to know what cause

Brings sadness, when it seems we happy are…

Or ought to be.    

 

Medea:

                                Let rest the matter ’til 

Thou’rt older.

 

Medus:

                             How old, mother?

 

Medea:

                                                                    ’Til the hairs

Upon thy head are silver.

 

Medus:

                                                     Oh, so long?

Wilt thou still be with me?

 

Medea:

[smiles]                                        I reckon not.  

 

Medus:

[smiles too] Faith, mother, that’s as old as father’s now;

And you and he shall both by then be gone.

 

Medea:

[looks off] Know’st where thy father is?

 

Medus:

                                                                      I think he sleeps

Upon his bed, e’en as the noise doth grow.

 

Medea:

Now slumbers he ere sunset. Hypnos waves

Her dripping branch above him, more and more.

 

Medus:

Shall I go stir him?

 

Medea:

                                      No, let’s let him rest.

Do you run off, and play with friends again,

Or watch the stranger.

 

[exit Medus]

 

                                              How the shouts grow near…

 

[closes a casement, darkening the room and muffling the noise]

 

The crown shall not be taken from his head.

This Theseus alarms me – still I hear

The crowds outside acclaim him; and I know

How many do suspect me, how few love

Their queen within this city. Medus too

They all mistrust, those foremost families

And lower sorts as well, thinking their prince

No true Athenian, but half-foreign blood

Which soon shall rule above them. 

 

                                                                        Spells, they say,

Used I to charm the king when I arrived

Nine years ago. ‘The witch,’ they gossiped much,

‘Ensorcelled him, threw magic o’er his eyes;

And now he thinks not much on common weal,

Only on lustful pleasures; and he does

Whate’er she bids. Her issue shall assume

A throne much undeserved.’ 

                                            

                                                           The wretched throngs,

How I despise them! This their champion

They’ll press t’accept the crown when Aegeus dies –

Or even shake the king by strong entreat

To crown relinquish ere he passes on…

And then where am I? And where child of mine?

It frightens me, how many he has killed,

This Theseus, a stripling from the south –

So many burly villains crushed like mice,

And giants felled as though they were young trees –

Still thin at base, and yielding to the axe.

His coming here can only mean one thing:

The one thing I would brave hell to prevent,

Or grapple with the snakes of venomous seas,

Should any such deed offer barest hope

My cherished child would be ensured of rule.

 

But something simpler’s all this danger needs:

Some trifling means, the lowest of my craft

Learnt when I was a girl, apprentice to

The wise practitioners of darkest arts,

Who three-faced goddess worship; and this work

Shall not much drain me, nor my heart should crack.

 

[she produces a vial from a chest]

 

This powder, taken from my Colchian trove

Of magic substances, along with words

I’ll whisper as the day begins to droop,

Ought be enough to make the doting king

See how the newcomer covets his crown

And means to put his family to quick deaths.

 

[lights up on Aegeus across the stage, sleeping – Medea goes to him and blows the contents of the vial over his face]

 

Now when he wakes, I’ll be upon his ear

To certain make he sees the peril here,

And to suggest some way that Theseus

Might curse himself for trying to vanquish us.

 

[lights down]

 

 

 

Scene III

 

[lights up on the banquet hall of the palace – enter Aegeus, Medea, servants, and palace guards – Aegeus seems overwhelmed and anxious] 

 

Aegeus:

[to servants] Spare nothing of my household for our llllguest:

I trow he has an appetite – what’s more,

Our city’s noble elders shall arrive,

The more to honor he who’s done great feats.

Cook up two lambs, and roast the fish and eels;

Bring figs, and plenty loaves of barley bread,

Each wedge of cheese you find, and honey mead,

Some apples, quinces, pears, and table grapes…

And whate’er else that’s good, that you might see.

But bring the wine right fast; we’ll have that ere

The meal comes out – some vintage flavorful.

He’ll be here soon – make haste!

 

[exeunt servants in various directions]

 

Medea:

                                                                    My husband, speak

With me o’er this way.

 

[they move to a corner, very cautious not to be overheard]

 

                                              Hast the poison, dear?

 

Aegeus:

[he produces a goblet from his heavy cloak]

 

Some drops in this cup. I bade the guards

Delay the man outside, and then I searched

The cellars for this venom. 

 

Medea:

                                                       Give it here.

I’ll place it where we’ll have the hero sit.

 

[she places the goblet at the far end of the table]

 

How long ’til venom acts?

 

Aegeus:

                                                       I think the man

Who sold it me (back when mine enemies

Were numerous, and chased I after means

To slay with stealth) said, if administered

At dinnertime, about the early morn

Should death come stealing where the victim sleeps…

But what shall people say after he dies?

 

Medea:

They’ll say whate’er they like, but speaking’s all

They’ll have the courage for – and if not so,

Brick walls and bristling spears defend our rule.

 

Aegeus:

I feel uneasy. Thou know’st that the gods

Do watch us ever.

 

Medea:

                                     Fool! That man who knocks

Upon our door intends our blood – just now

I told thee what I saw inside my orb:

Thy body splayed out on this very floor,

Thy gore a spreading pond, reaching to join

The red life seeping from our son, from me:

All three united, just as we shall be

United in our sorrow ’mongst the shades

If this one at our gate is not swift killed.

Thou wouldst have children none if not for me,

Recall’st? And if thou heedest not mine hest,

Thou shalt have none again – nor we our lives,

For sure this man who comes is wise enow

To pull the roots, not simply lop the branch.

So take my lead – protect thy family,

Thy kingship: act the proper man when guest

Walks towards thee, and choke back thy nervousness.

 

Aegeus:

I know this murder’s needed; yet I ask

You feel the same reluctance and regret

That I do.

 

Medea:

                    Think upon the crown ye wear,

And not such weakling worries.

 

Aegeus:

                                                                  Yet it tears

My conscience, what we work… Why should arrive

A man of godly ichor in his veins,

A scion of Olympus, at our porch,

Intending us to slay, after he’s slain

Our enemies, and all the town hath spilled

Its boundless love upon him? Why should one

Of heaven’s race intend a cruel design

With us as target? What crime have I done,

Or ye? What sacrifice have we not paid,

What rite not done precisely? Think I now

Thy magic sight miscarries – could it be?

No, no, thou hast a deep, trustworthy view…

But if we slay him, shan’t the gods e’en so

Find means to wreak their ire?

 

[enter several Athenian nobles abruptly]

 

                                                               Oh, sirs, I bid

Ye welcome. 

 

Nobleman 1:

                           Worthy Aegeus, rev’renced King,

We honor thee.

 

[nobles bow]

 

Aegeus:

                                I love ye that you’ve come.

Have seats; the servants should bring wine anon.

 

Nobleman 1:

When shall the hero come? We wish to stand

As he walks in.

 

[enter two servants with wineskins and begin to pour; Medea makes sure the goblet intended for Theseus is poured first]

 

Aegeus:

                               Of course – I ween he’ll be

Here shortly. 

 

[he motions discreetly for a guard to go and let Theseus come in] 

 

Medea:

[stands by Theseus’s chair] [to nobles] We shall have him llllsit this end,

Where husband mine doth sit, to show how much

We thank him, wish him well, place him above

The common ranks of men.

 

[cheers heard from outside as a door opens – enter Theseus, who hands his club to a guard and bows to Aegeus]

 

Aegeus:

[doing his best to seem joyful, not sorrowful] At last!    llllApproach.

Our greetings to you, Theseus, great man

Of Troezen. All my noblemen are here.

We thank you for your services to us

In bringing safety to the traveler 

Who visits shrines or friends, or trades his wares

Beyond the isthmus, in the Peloponnese.

 

Theseus:

You are King Aegeus. Please accept my thanks

I find such hearty welcome.

 

[starts to bow again, but Aegeus goes and shakes his hand]

 

                                                          On the road

A sentry recommended I come here.

It did surprise me, how all of the folks

Of thy sweet town identified me quick –

From weapons, I suppose – and knew each name

Of rogue I’d slain, as patted me each hand

And every tongue spoke praise. I nearly lost

My way, so turned around was I; but up

The hill I tended, ’til I found thy gate,

And still they mobbed me thick while I did wait,

Gifting me overmuch, loading my arms,

So that I paid some boys to stow the goods

Or keep them by the porch… But – what is this?

Oh King – why dost thou weep?

 

Aegeus:

[waves his hands]                              Give it no thought –

I’m old, I’m foolish. Much I’m overwhelmed

As thou art: thou by praises, I by deeds

Of courage and thy goodness. 

 

[they embrace]

 

Medea:

                                                               Shall we sit, 

Oh husband? This dear Theseus has been

On feet since first he left his Troezen home, 

I’d reckon. All the stories of his strength

Came in one breath of news, and that must mean

His campaign flew full swift – no stop for rest.

 

Nobleman 2:

Oh hero, friend, we’ve much to ask of you,

Myself and all these famous Athens names:

Sit down, and let us question!

 

Theseus:

                                                              Certainly.

 

Medea:

The wine’s already poured. Right soon shall come

Our feast.

 

[all sit, Medea guides Theseus to the right chair]

 

Theseus:

[to second Nobleman] What do you wish to ask?

 

Nobleman 2:

                                                                                        First say

Why thou didst come up north – was it to prove 

Thy prowess ’gainst the bandits? Help thy folk

Who journey?

 

[servants begin bringing the feast]

 

Theseus:

                              Nay, it is another thing –

 

Nobleman 1:

I know: thou meanest to enlist thy strength

Prodigious in the service of this king,

The greatest lord in Greece!

 

Theseus:

                                                          Not quite, good sir –

 

Medea:

Before he tells us, let us raise our cups

And drink to his long life, and to his works –

May there be many more!

 

[all speak assent and raise cups]

 

Aegeus:

                                                       One moment, now,

Before we drink – I yearn to say a word.

This is a man who makes me wish my strength

Were in my limbs again… When I was young,

I thought a prince like I was sure could thrash

Whatever peril faced him – hard I learned

’Twas not the case, with me. But in this man

It seems the gods have deigned my fantasy

Of power should dwell… [to Theseus] Whate’er hath llllbrought thee here,

I’d fain thou wouldst remain, at least some time –

And help, perhaps, to banish what doth loom

Like shadow o’er us… if such wish could be.

 

Theseus:

Oh sire, thy words are gracious, and remind

How humbleness becomes us, high and low.

I’ve never been more moved by kindnesses

Than by thy speech. If ever thou shouldst need

My sword, thou hast it.

 

[draws his sword and places it on the table]

 

                                                Thus I give my pledge

Of service to the greatest lord in Greece.

 

[all make to drink]

 

Aegeus:

[rising] Oh stay! Throw out thy cup! Nay, nay, drink not!

 

[commotion – Theseus sets his cup down]

 

I recognize thy sword – thou art my son!

The one I gave to Aethra, Troezen’s queen,

When long ago I bade her give it him

Who from our union issued… Oh, how close

To death you drew!

 

Theseus:

                                         My father? Father, art?

 

Nobleman 1:

[to Theseus] Thou art the prince of Troezen?

 

Theseus:

                                                                                   Aye. I am.

 

[exit Medea, fleeing]

 

Nobleman 2:

[to Aegeus] Thou knew’st of poison, sire?

 

Aegeus:

                                                                           I shall explain  

To Theseus… Ye guards, go after her!

 

[exeunt guards – lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene IV

 

[lights up, enter Medea in the woods, fleeing]

 

Medea:

Dark-hearted Fates, I’ll have revenge on ye.

My spell upon my husband’s blown like sand:

That sword recalled him! Oh, but seconds more,

And poison drunk, my son would be assured

Of Athens’ rule… But I shan’t linger here:

For Medus I’ll go back, while all the guards 

Within these woods search blindly – for I’ve cast

A spell of early darkness o’er these parts.

They’ll trip, and grope, and to each other call, 

But never catch me. And once I’ve my son,

We’ll creep to where my chariot is stowed,

And hitch the car to wingèd serpents twain

That sleep within a cavern… Thus we’ll fly

To Asia – over ocean, over land,

The spreading world beneath us – there to find

Another king who’ll take me as his queen:

For men are desperate, and my sortilege

Doth help them think I’m honest when I say

No other lord could e’er compel my love…

 

And all the world shall fall to ruins grim

Before I give up my conspiring 

To bear a line of offspring who’ll be kings.

 

[exit Medea, lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene V

 

[the emptied banquet hall – lights up on Aegeus and Theseus]

 

Aegeus:

My son, my guilt doth ope my veins: to ask

Forgiveness from you’s all that I can do…

Yet that’s not true – I can give up this crown,

And walk forth, exiled, to a distant realm,

Some grievous edge of earth where sorry souls

Lament, and lash themselves with memories

Of wrongs they’ve done to those they love the most.

 

[takes off his crown]

 

Athens is yours, dear boy, and may you rule

With much more wisdom than your father hath.

 

Theseus:

Good King, put thy proud diadem back on

Thy blameless head. It was thy wife’s witchcraft,

Past doubt, that made you try to poison me –

It happened ere you knew I was your son.

 

Aegeus:

Thy graciousness is more than I deserve.

 

Theseus:

A king who’s swift to make amends deserves

Some graciousness, I think – especially

From one who’s sprung of him.

 

Aegeus:

[pauses]                                               I fain would ask:

Why didst thou keep thy princely rank from us?

If known, I surely would our bond have guessed,

E’en ere I glimpsed thy blade.

 

Theseus:

                                                            I did not wish

More honor than was due. E’en as I walked

Up north, I no one told my royal blood,

Not wishing crowds to draw, or cause a stir –

Though such did happen anyways once word

Of all my slayings spread. I did not plan

To squash a single scoundrel – it just chanced

I kept happ’ning upon them, and it seemed

Neglectful not to scourge such evil blight

Of reprobates… The reason that I’ve come

I’ve still not told.

 

Aegeus:

                                   Do tell.

 

Theseus:

                                                   I seek my wife,

Oh King.

 

Aegeus:

                   Are there no beauties where thou’t from?

Why Athens?

 

Theseus:

                            One man knows, and mother too,

But thou’rt the third: I seek a girl I saw

Twelve times in dreams. See was outside this town,

Among the fields. Tomorrow I shall look

To find her. 

 

Aegeus:

                        Did thy dreams show thee her face?

 

Theseus:

In some wise, yes… I cannot now recall

Her countenance; but when she doth appear,

I’m sure I’ll recognize her.

 

Aegeus:

                                                      I’ve not heard

Of such a quest before – prompted by dreams

To seek some real-life soul. I wish thee well,

And hope thou find’st thy wife – but cannot help

But wonder…

 

Theseus:

                               Wonder what?

 

Aegeus:

[sighs]                                                It may be vain,

This hope that stirs me – that perhaps the gods…

 

[enter Leos]

 

Leos:

Ah King – calamity’s befall’n my house!

Forgive me, if I weep before I hail

Your Majesty, or wish your line good health!

 

Theseus:

What mean’st thou? What misfortune’s fall’n on you?

 

Leos:

[to Theseus] Oh worthy man, a horrid, and severe.

The king, he knows already, but thou dost

Not understand… It rends me to explain:

My son, my eldest, all the best in me

When I was young, added with virtues all

I’ve been too late in gaining – hath been plucked –

How dire to speak! – hath by the random lot

Been plucked from me, and shall on shipboard sail

To die within the labyrinth of Crete,

One of the fourteen whom the minotaur

Shall feed upon: meals for that wretched pet

Of Minos, cruelest sovereign of the globe!

 

Theseus:

What does he speak of, father?

 

Aegeus:

                                                                I regret

I must now speak of what I sighed upon

Moments ago. Now learn more evidence

My wisdom’s not enough for one who’s king.

 

Long years ago, King Minos – he of Crete,

A man I’ve never liked much – sent his son,

Androgeos, to visit Attica

And gain the wisdom of a foreign town

Well known for men debating in its square

All points that lead, or soon or late, to where 

One cannot pass, and must start o’er again.

This prince, a braggart, galled me to extreme,

For held he in contempt the kindnesses

Extended to him; and he cared no whit

For damsels’ purity, nor royal right

To keep the forest wilds inviolate

Of any hunter’s arrows, save mine own.

And so my anger waxed, as in a hive

Of bees the honey bulges ’til it beads

And trickles down the tree… Some plans I made,

And brought to pass – but ever since I’ve cursed

The hour I thought of them.

 

                                                           A wild bull

There roamed near Athens, ravaging the fields

And scaring farmers’ families out their wits.

Androgeos I summoned to my court

To ask him if he thought himself the man

With strength and nerve enough to slay that beast.

And hardly had that question passed my lips

When off the lad went, and no more I saw 

Of him – until his carcass, gored and crushed,

Was brought back, wrapped in bloody bandages.

We planned to claim the death was accident,

But word across the sea already reached –

The whole truth, sparing nothing of my role;

And soon did sails from Knossos fill the sea

Around our harbor, and an army poured

Upon our sands, and every man did slay

Who raised a sword against them.

 

                                                                      I did keep

This crown I fain would give now, but the king

So mad with grief, conditions forced on me:

That every nine years, I would send to Crete

Of young men seven, and of maids the same,

Who all would eaten be by what doth stalk

Within the winding passages beneath

His palace: gruesome being, grisly shape –

The minotaur, child of Pasiphaë,

The king’s wife, whom the god of oceans charmed

To lust after a bull, and who did force

An artificer to construct a cow

In which she hid.

 

                                    Nine years have passed again –

Lots have been drawn, and sudden tears are shed.

Upon a ship of sadness must depart

Twice seven of our youths, my good friend’s child

Among them – bound for hungry gnashing jaws

That wait for them within an iron maze.

 

[lights fall, except on Theseus]

 

Theseus:

Could be, this is the reason for my dreams?

That I should learn my strength in setting out,

Then hear this tale… that I exhort my soul

To take the place of this man’s wretched son

Upon a boat of sullen weeping ones,

And grapple with this hated minotaur?

If I can vanquish giants, why not that

Born of a mortal woman and a bull:

A creature who shall pass to lowly gloom

As surely as his mortal parents shall?

 

Doth my love live? Walks she among the fields?

Could be, she bideth only in my mind.

I’ve heard it said the gods play tricks on men –

It is their will prevails upon this world;

And often might they stir desires in us

But to fulfill some purpose past our sight.

 

[enter Athena, sparkling softly, like a vision]

 

Athena:

Of veils and screens and shades that hide from view

Of Charon’s debtors truths celestial,

The first you have with wisdom drawn aside.

 

Theseus:

Thy lips, they move not – oh, mine neither do!

We seem to speak as if the dream-world fell

Upon me, of a sudden, so that sound

And thought run undistinguished… What are you?

Thou cam’st not through a window, nor a door.

Thy presence radiates unearthly light…

And by the gorgon’s head upon thy targe,

I guess thou art the goddess of this town.

 

Athena:

Thy guess is true. Come, mortal, unto me.

 

[Theseus approaches]

 

To every soul who fights with holy heart

’Gainst hybrid monsters and the devil-breed –

Those things that slip outside the gate of sleep

Up towards the shining earth, where oft they prey

Upon the sweet things which inhabit light –

Athena offers favor and her aid.

 

[she touches his forehead]

 

Theseus:

The blessing of the heavens… Now is eased

My anguished heart, and seems to lift on high

Past winds and clouds, within some silent space

That neither is broad air, nor is a room

Constructed by a being with a mind.

 

How shall I send the minotaur to death?

What weapon dost thou give, forged by that smith

Who doth all favored warriors equip?

 

Athena:

No weapon shalt thou bear against that beast

Who wanders in the Cretan riddle-lair –

Except thy strength, that same that’s won you love

Within this city, and of love was sprung:

Thy love for her who wanders in the fields.

 

Theseus:

And is she real?

 

Athena:

                                 Lives she upon the isle

To which ye sail – a maiden you shall know

When first you look upon her handsome face.

 

Theseus:

No more, oh goddess, speak. With thirteen youths

I’ll captive go – then throttle of its life

That creature that’s half-animal, half-man.

 

Athena:

There’s one thing left to tell thee, that thy strength

Might grow e’en more from knowing whence it grows:

One-fourth’s divine the blood runs in thy veins –

For when King Aegeus with thy mother lay,

That same night flew to her from out the sea

Poseidon – so two fathers sired you.

Thy force arises in this flush of youth;

Thy love’s the strength that lends thy limbs their power.

In old age shall that source and power die:

A fount that shrivels, and leaves flowers dry –

But in these early years you’ll know a might

Could match the prowess of the one who raised

Antaeus from the ground – or of that man

Who with Diana hunted all o’er Crete,

And by the scorpion stung, was raised as stars.

 

Theseus:

Now hast thou banished angst from breast of mine –

Oh swell, this love I feel! May hatred bold

E’er thrive within these sinews which shall strike

And strangle what consumes the fairest youth!

Bring on the ship shall take me to the maze

And that which lurks within its winding ways.

 

[lights fall]

 

 

 

 

Act II

 

 

Scene I

 

[the royal palace in Knossos – lights up on Ariadne with a lyre, sitting at a window]

 

Ariadne:

Live I in Candy – so this island’s called,

Another name for Crete, land where the bull

Is rev’renced as the creature dear to heaven.

Near seashore breeze I touch these well-tuned strings…

I’m Ariadne, daughter of the king.

Oft sit I by this window and compose

From lyric fancy, strains to pass the hours –

And watch the bronze man pass along this shore,

And watch the sea, and wonder of the lands

I’ve never viewed that lie below the rains

Of night and day, the orbs of day and night.

 

My lyre attends; I’ve verses newly writ.

Oft sing I songs that go a bit like this:

 

[sings]

        Live I in Candy – so my island’s called.

        Of isles it is the fairest one of all

        Which sparkle in Poseidon’s turquoise sea…

        But I know how it fairer still might be.

   

        In sleep I see an island made of sweets,

        Of caramels and chocolates, sugared treats.

        The sun upon the gingerbread walls glints –

        An architecture capped with peppermints.

       

        A throne made out of toffee’s for the lord,

        And peanut brittle’s what makes up his sword;

        And strictest laws of Candy e’er make sure

        That criminals receive their just desserts.

        Not just desserts, but every meal would be 

        A feast of cakes and cookies, don’t you see.

        Too much of sweetness? But the tongue should learn

        No other taste, and for else never yearn.

        Among gumdrops and lemon drops cavort

        Marshmallow deer and rabbits, and disport

        The nougat squirrels, while off the sugary strand

        Fly gulls and terns made out of marzipan.

        In soda springs leap schools of gummy fish

        That anglers catch on lines of licorice;

        And in the cola fonts the maids do clean

        Their clothing, kneeling on the jellybeans.

        On lollipop trees perch the praline doves,

        And ’midst the truffles laze the youths who love

        To watch the sun melt down the mountains made

        Of fudge, ’til crawling night seals up the day.

        How wish I Candy were as it is seen

        When I nod softly in my bed, and dream…

        And not this isle, a stronghold of nightmares –

        This isle of bones, vile beings, and despair.

 

[enter Minos]

 

Minos:

I heard you singing, daughter gentle, kind.

 

Ariadne:

I oft do so; why mention it?

 

Minos:

                                                         Thy voice

Flows sweet and pure, and never can be praised

Too often – but thou must leave harp aside.

Wilt thou not come with me unto the court 

To see the lads and maids whom Aegeus sent

As feast we, and imbibe, and praise our gods

They grant us such vast might, that we exact

A tribute of our rival city’s youths?

 

Ariadne:

I shall not praise a might that battens on

The flesh of those who’ve never done us harm.

 

Minos:

The world compels some flesh should be consumed…

Were it not theirs, those wights from off the ship,

It might be Cretan – even thine, my dear. 

 

Ariadne:

I see not why strong friendship can’t prevail:

One man embrace another, women kiss,

While yet the sword and spear lean ’gainst the wall.

 

Minos:

The folks embrace, but how long ’til a lord,

Grown squeamish, never taking lives at all,

Be set upon by villains in his sleep

While he dreams of a phantom paradise?

 

Ariadne:

Oh, paradise: is it the only thing

That of phantasms of the mind is made?

Think’st thou a truce that’s on this slaughter built –

Like palace ours which rests on blood-marked ways

Below us in the earth – shall hold our isle

Secure through future span? How know’st thou not

The king of Athens plots to work our ill?

 

Minos:

Oh child, I trust upon’t! Of ill that town

A very font is, and shall ever be

’Til stars and sun snuff out to ashen dust,

The waves are stilled, and moon is swallowed down

Into the stomach of the shadowed world…

Thy brother’s blood still soaks the Attic fields.

 

Ariadne:

So let is rest, and feed the cypresses,

The olive trees that drowse in summer’s heat,

The flow’ring shrubs… and so the honeybees

That build a good confection in their hive.

 

Minos:

What rest is there, while Athens ever grows,

And gains in arms, in knowledge, and in men,

Its young ones taught to hate us?

 

Ariadne:

                                                                     Might it be

They’re taught so by the ship that steals their friends

And never brings them back?

 

Minos:

                                                              They are so taught

By monarch who hath never owned his guilt

Of murder of a prince! This argument

Is finished – thou shalt hie thee to the court

Before the sun hath fall’n; and there thou’lt stay

Until the last Athenian’s borne away.

 

[exit Minos]

 

Ariadne:

To father’s court I’ll go, but with no cheer.

Let Athens see me, and see all my tears.

 

[lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene II

 

[lights up on the court of the palace of Knossos, where stands Icarus – enter Ariadne]

 

Ariadne:

Good evening, Icarus. How is your dad?

Long years hath he been shut inside his tower,

Held captive by my father, who’s afraid

Of losing him who built the unsolved maze

From which the minotaur might ne’er escape.

 

Icarus:

[bowing] Good princess, thou art kind in thy concern.

Of late his sorrow hath passed by degrees

Into a melancholy that is not

Purely a sadness – there’s some peace in him,

Some calmness in the loneliness he feels.

Most nights I visit father in his cell

At deepest hours, when drowsy grow the guards,

And wine persuades them to agree with me

That for a little while I’ll speak with him…

I’ll tell thee something I’ve told no one else:

Some secret project works he. ’Neath his cot

He hides what he constructs.

 

Ariadne:

                                                            Could be, he jests?

Or ’gin his wits to addle? What has he

Within his cell to build inventions?

 

Icarus:

                                                                         That

He will not tell me. No one goes to him

Save I… except those pigeons, gulls, and birds

Of other kinds who at his window perch

To peck the moldy crusts and crumbs he gives –

Also the bees, who ’neath his bed have built

A hive safe from the cold and rainy times,

And come and go, bringing their nectar back 

From roses all around, the garden plots

Spreading from tower’s base unto the shore.

Those are his only guests… But he insists

In time he’ll show me something what shall change

His sadness into joy.

 

Ariadne:

                                          If he speaks true,

And if might be, I’ll wish to know as well

What crafts he.

 

[enter nobles of Knossos, gradually assembling]

 

Icarus:

                                 Here come people, most the great

And noble ones of Knossos.

 

Ariadne:

                                                         Soon appear

My father, and the youths… And still, of course,

My sister hasn’t shown. I’m made to halt

My music, but I doubt if father cares

If Phaedra shows at all.

 

Icarus:

                                                Where dost thou think

She bides right now?

 

Ariadne:

                                            I’d say upon her bed,

With this week’s beau… this day’s, perhaps. My hair

Is gold, while hers is black; and yet each tongue,

Taking its cue from favor of the throne,

Proclaims her more the beauty! Oh, our sire

Hath always liked her better – for her ways

He thinks a fine example to our folk,

Whom wishes he to increase. Loves she men,

But sometimes women too, and even that

Rare one who’s in-between – neither, and both –

A flower that might pollinate itself

And birth a thousand things of bafflement.

 

[enter Minos and musicians]

 

Minos:

That we, the capital and head of Crete,

Might view our power, which grasps beyond the brine

Into the homes of Athens’ families,

Ripping the child from out the loving hearth

And leaving tears and bitter gasps of grief:

Bring forth the fourteen youths whom we’ve been sent,

Who’ve walked from shipboard through the city streets,

That they parade before us with sad steps

As brisk notes play to cheer this island’s might.

 

[music plays – enter Theseus and the other youths, escorted by guards]

 

And may our priestesses come forth to dance

To honor all our glorious pantheon –

Foremost, that grudgeful god who rumbles earth,

And he who dies in autumn, then in spring

Is born again – who from the heifer’s womb

Brings forth the calf, the symbol of his life.

 

[enter High Priestess and priestesses – the latter perform a dance, which ends abruptly when the music halts]

 

High Priestess:

Oh powers, accept this flesh we send to you,

Which shall be eaten in the chambers down

Below the palace: blood of ripest youth

Poured forth – a spout of living liquid’s strength.

 

[music and dancing resume briefly]

 

Minos:

And now, lock in their cells this sacrifice

To stay for one last night within our world.

In early morn, the maze shall them accept;

And soon they’ll trudge down to the shores of Styx,

Lacking the coins would buy them means across.

 

[exeunt all except Minos, Icarus, Ariadne, and nobles]

 

[to nobles] For revelry and mountains of rich fare,

I bid ye all within. My bard shall sing

Of how this world began, and how shall last

Through timeless age, as shall immortals’ reign.

 

[exeunt Minos and nobles through a door]

 

Ariadne:

Saw’st thou that man among the prisoners

Who stood a half-head taller than the rest?

 

Icarus:

Good faith, I trow I view the arrow stuck 

Within thy chest – a shot from little Love.

 

Ariadne:

A bracing terror is this bolt from him:

No pleasure’s in’t; I feel a horror wash

Swift through my organs, like some venom’s act

Of fast diffusion… Oh, I’ll nearly faint

To know that man shall die such nightmare death!

 

[she slumps and Icarus tries to comfort her]

 

And yet… some meager hope presents to me,

If I’m no fool: Someone who’s dear to you

Might be of help. 

 

Icarus:

                                  I think I follow you –

My sire, who made the labyrinth.

 

Ariadne:

                                                                    Canst thou

Admit me in his cell? 

 

Icarus:

                                           I ween I could…

I’ll bring some wine the jailers shall imbibe –

Some extra draughts on top of what thy quaff

Of usual – and when they’ve left their sense,

You shall appear, and both we shall go in

With little worry. Meet me when ’tis dark –

Thou know’st the place.

 

Ariadne:

                                                  Oh Icarus, stint not

In how much drink thou bring’st them!

 

Icarus:

                                                                         They shall spill

From chairs, and thou and I shall find their key

While snores sound deep, loosed out through dream-llllland’s door.

 

[exit Icarus]

 

Ariadne:

Oh gods, grant favor, that I’m not too late

To lend my love some means death to escape.

 

[exit, lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene IV

 

[lights up on Daedalus in his cell]

 

Daedalus:

Oh weary time, thou art not what thou wert.

The sea is solely what I glimpse from out

This high-set window; and it’s much the same

From spring to autumn, fall to spring, and back…

Except for choppy storms which blow when’s cold,

And cockle all the waters for a spell.

At night, like now, it shineth under moon;

In daytime glows it blue, and swells with gold…

But all else changeth not: four walls, a roof,

A floor. Now time is hardly time at all,

But one sole moment living evermore,

In which I think the same thoughts, round and round,

As first I thought when up the stairs I climbed

And bolt was locked behind me… If my son

Did not come visit oft, I’d lose my hope,

My will, my sense, my life – but since he comes,

Not absent long ’twixt visits, there’s revived

My heart’s full longing: 

 

                                               Still seek I t’invent.

Dame Nature hath provided what I need

By gracious providence; and my keen mind,

Seizing upon those things, hath late proclaimed

A combination of materials

Shall let me and my son bid isle adieu!

But touches more, and all shall be complete.

 

[enter Ariadne and Icarus]

 

My boy! [embraces him] You’ve come again – and llllbrought a guest.

Who art thou, lady? My confinement grows

E’er looser.

 

Icarus:

                       Father, it’s someone thou knew’st

When she was shy, much smaller than she’s now:

’Tis Ariadne.

 

Daedalus:

[to her, rising] When I last thee saw,

Thou wert but half my height, and now thou’st reached

Some bit above me – see, I stoop and hunch,

And must lean on this wall. I’m glad thou’t here.

 

[they embrace] 

 

Ariadne:

Good man, and great inventor of the king:

I must speak straight to point – I do beseech

Thy aid to save the life of one who’s doomed

To perish in the labyrinth thou’st built.

 

Daedalus:

So nine years have gone by since first were thrown

Into those darkling passages the flower

Of Athens – aye, nine winters counted I

Since first I came here… Oh, I beat my breast

That maze I did construct – if I had not,

Perhaps our sovereign’s grief-filled, morbid mind

Had not elaborate grown in vengefulness.

 

Ariadne:

The youths I saw when Minos had them march

Before the court of Knossos – oh good sir,

Among them, one is dear to my poor breast.

His name I know not, but once him I saw,

I knew that Cupid’s dart had drawn my blood.

Now live I in an ever-smold’ring love,

As salamander liveth in the fire

That lends it vital force, and harms it not.

Your cleverness I ask that you apply –

I do adjure you, think of how I might

Cheat loathly beast of blood he means to sup –

Both blood of him I love, and of the rest,

For all his friends I’d spare, along with him.

 

Daedalus:

Oh Love, thou floating son of foam-formed lass:

It heartens me to know thou flutt’rest still,

And keep thyself in practice with thy bow

Upon meek maids and lads the vast world o’er…

[to Ariadne] But to thy question: aye, I think I know

A means to bear thy love out from those floors

Which baffle by their convolutions odd.

 

[searches in a chest and produces a clew of yarn]

 

Sometimes a simple thing is all it takes

Ingenious offspring of the mind to foil:

This thought first came upon me while I sketched

My puzzle-chamber, adding layer on layer

Of complication, burying the path

That leads to freedom.

 

[gives yarn]                       Bring this to thy love

If that might be, and bid him tie it fast

With strong knot round some chain or post or hook

At maze’s entrance – so where’er he walks,

That line shall lead him back unto the start:

For any who escapes the labyrinth

Once deep inside, the king shall send back home.

But if while wandering he comes across

The minotaur, I cannot be of aid:

Of monstrous muscles is that creature made.

Thy love must shy away from hungry death

And ever skip with fleet steps ’round the turns.

 

Ariadne:

Oh, perfect little plan! Now, I shall try

Somehow to slip it him… Minos I’ll beg

For thy release, howe’er my loved one fares.

 

Daedalus:

No need of that, in fact… Something I’ll show

The both of ye, for both of ye I trust

As much as gods who send me kindnesses.

From out this tower soon I mean to soar –

In truth, this very hour. See what I’ve made…

 

[he takes out two sets of wings from under his cot]

 

From feathers shed by birds and wax of bees

I’ve made these pinions. Oh, how crafty, I!

[to Icarus] We’ll put them on, and out the window fly.

 

Icarus:

My father… such a scheme I’d ne’er have guessed!

Unto any land thou wish’st to wing

I’ll gladly flap with thee – to Sicily, 

Or Greece, or Egypt, or Ausonia –

Where’er thou think’st most prosp’rous, promising,

And happy for thee as thy years decline.

 

Daedalus:

We’ll soon be off, to flap beneath the moon

And into morning. Just be sure, my son,

Thou dost not flap too low to frothing sea,

For briny drops may to thy feathers cling

And weigh thee down.

 

Icarus:

                                               I’ll follow close to you,

For thou dost know the altitude and way.

 

Daedalus:

Oh princess – may thy love come out unharmed

From what I have designed, and from what came

Of madness which Poseidon cast upon

Thy mother.

 

Ariadne:

                          May I see you both again.

Be happy where ye choose to land. I wish

The gods send winds to make your journey swift.

 

[all embrace – exit Ariadne – lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene IV

 

[lights up on Theseus in his cell, looking out a barred window]

 

Theseus:

The night has come; I’ve watched it gently drape

Its purple cape across the sky. When lifts

The sun, then men shall bear us to that lair

Of infinitely intricate design,

Where silence rules amid the shadowed steps

And every corner may conceal the beast

More horrible than any troubled dream.

Oh fathers, may your gifts to me not fail:

From Neptune, strength; from Aegeus, upright heart.

 

[enter Ariadne, wearing a hooded cloak]

 

Who’s there? 

 

Ariadne:

[whispering] Speak low, speak low. The keen-eared llllguards

Are just outside. They’ve let me in, for I

Am someone they’ll obey – but if they hear

What plot I bring to thee, the king they’ll tell.

[approaches] I am a friend, but cannot speak for long.

[gives yarn] Take you this clew of yarn, and tie it fast

Once you the threshold of the grim maze pass,

That you may find your passage out again…

And ever stay the minotaur far from.

His horrid snorting and his clopping hoofs

Should let you know the moment he draws nigh.

 

[enter Phaedra, who listens surreptitiously at the door]

 

When you emerge, the king shall set you free,

And all thy friends… and I shall be there too,

To speak with thee again. I would some sword

Or dagger give, but nowhere mayst thou hide

One ’gainst thy skin… Oh, nearly all thyself

Doth show to me… Farewell – I must depart.

 

Theseus:

But stay a moment… Tell me who thou art.

 

Ariadne:

It matters not. Just know I wish thee well.

 

Theseus:

Take down thy hood, at least. 

 

[she hesitates, then does so]   

 

                                                            What is thy name?

 

Ariadne:

’Tis Ariadne… and my father’s he

Who brought thee here. Who’rt thou?

 

Theseus:

                                                                        Most people call

Me prince of Troezen – or of Athens; but

My friends speak ‘Theseus.’

 

Ariadne:

                                                         And now we’ve said

So much, more must I say, and say it swift:

To stop the geyser of my heart’s a deed 

No hand of steel could do. I must confess

I’ve loved thee since I saw thee… Thou’rt a gem

That shines amidst the midnight. Theseus:

I mean to fly with thee, where’er thou wish’st

Upon a boat the cheerful dolphins draw

And whales shall veil with coruscating mists,

Bewild’ring all who’d chase, to catch our heels.

Let Venus be protectress, my dear love,

To guard thy every footfall in the maze.

 

And now I leave… Just promise me thy steps

Shall bear thee ever far from stalking death

Once morning’s here, and underground thou’rt ta’en.

 

Theseus:

I must not promise: for the minotaur

I’ve sworn to slay – sworn to the solemn gods.

To Crete I came by will – no lot did choose

I brave this grisly challenge. Athens I

Shall liberate from what thy father bade

In punishment… The progeny to come

From Attic city shout that I must kill 

This terror ’neath our feet. Thy yarn shall lead

Me out the maze, but not before I’ve slain

What haunts the sleep of parents of my town.

 

[exit Phaedra – lights down except on Ariadne]

 

Ariadne:

Oh dark halls cruel, take not my love from me.

In high ethereal realm, where spin the three,

Some length of thread already hath been snipped –

Quite soon, I’ll know if long or short ’twas clipped.

 

[lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene V

 

[lights up on a hallway – enter Phaedra]

 

Phaedra:

What man is this who with my sister plots

To cheat our father of his sacrifice?

That men could be so handsome’s not a thing

E’er entered in my close imaginings.

Were he not so, I’d fast alert the guards –

But I’ve a gath’ring plan within my head…

Good-bye my suitors; o’er me do not weep –

Weep for the one whom Theseus shall leave.

 

[exit, lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene VI

 

[lights up on the labyrinth – enter Theseus, unwinding his yarn and carrying a torch]

 

Theseus:

These endless halls, as dark as dreamless sleep,

Spiraling inward: patterns square and round,

Triangular – and when the center’s reached,

Some stairs lead down and down to lower floor.

Six hours I must have wandered on these paths,

List’ning to drafts that whistle o’er the wells

And drops that ripple through the darksome pools.

Chambers, steps, huge corridors, and bends,

Long loops, false intersections, and dead ends…

Tomb-silent rests this place, through vast expanse.

Each corner watch I, and my hearing’s keen.

My countrymen I left long time ago

Within some early room, one torch with them,

All thirteen keeping absolutely still

So’s not by sounds to give themselves away.

 

Somewhere down here the loathsome hybrid creeps.

Almost I think this is an empty place:

No fabled denizen – except the words

Of Athens’ goddess, and the benison

She granted, tell me that the beast is real.

And – oh! – I do forget that blood I saw:

Long trail of dark, dried drops I followed not

For fear of what I’d view at end of them –

Grim remnants of the ones who here were thrust

When I in Troezen not yet wore a beard,

And nothing knew of such horrendous plight.

 

How terrible, these galleries of dread,

These bridges over emptiness, and black

At end of every passage. Whose the mind

Conceived such strangeness? Madness was the muse

Inspiring ways so purposeless, ne’er viewed

But by the hopeless victim… And I’m scared,

’Tis true, most deathly scared; but godly will,

An impetus beyond me, seizes me,

And prompts this turn and that, to left or right,

Up steps, or down a flight, or straight ahead.

This yarn records my progress – praise the girl

Who gave it me for pity, princess of

An isle so pitiless! Long have I lost

All sense of how I’ve come… Now dwindles spool 

To last few yards, last stretch of kind girl’s gift.

 

At times the walls themselves do seem to shift

Into arrangements new, without a noise,

Confounding doubly he who walks these ways…

Though other hours, somewhat they almost seem,

These passages, like structures of a dream

Or reverie – as if, some long age gone,

I did traverse them, and the character 

Of how I search by destiny was set –

Or by some memory, which this foretold,

This foray blind through belly of the world.

 

[lights up on a large hole in the floor, spitting fire]

 

How deep beneath the earth have I gone down?

A league or more below men’s feet, I ween.

And ever grows the heat… Now comes in view

A glow of red flames, flick’ring from a shaft –

And smoke seeps out, which smells of burning flesh.

Perhaps the heat is that of Tartarus:

A depthless pit alive with blazes cruel,

With snapping cinders, sparks that flare in bursts,

And singeing moat that round a palace runs

And frustrates sinners’ last hopes of escape.

 

My line’s now all unwound, and from this room

There leads no hall, save that through which I came.

It is so long to find a different path,

Retracing how I got here. I must rest…

[slumps down] Against the far wall pulse the reddish llllbeams;

And in my nostrils curl demonic scents 

Of burning bones and steaming human meats.

Long have I wandered, but no foe I’ve found.

A little time, I’ll rest upon this ground

With shut eyes, and a placid dreaming face.

 

[he fixes the torch in a nearby cleft in the wall and rests – enter Minotaur as an obscure figure in shadow, opposite the fiery pit – he is in fact very human-like, but with horns, hoofs, and a thick, hunched build: an almost pitiable figure]

 

Minotaur:

[to himself] Torn from confusion’s womb and comfort’s lllllbreast,

Offspring of beast and woman I ne’er knew,

Orphan of nature, forsaken by the gods,

Abortion unaborted, still I roam

This labyrinth that’s all the world to me,

Much wishing I knew what lies past the gate

Through which arrived those young ones I consumed

Such endless time ago. I smell that scent

Of sweating, living vigor once again,

And wonder, in my craving, famished state,

What world incomprehensible could birth

Such things, of shape sublime and beauteous,

Like angel-souls of empires gorgeous, wild –

Only to toss its progeny to where

My needful mouth cuts short their screaming pleas…

 

And now, within this central room of earth,

The minotaur shall end his groaning fast.

 

[Theseus has gradually woken as the Minotaur spoke]

 

Theseus:

[rising unsteadily] It standeth yonder – and a voice it hath.

 

Minotaur:

For hours have I stalked you, wand’ring youth,

And let you venture far ahead of me,

Thy strength to sap, alertness to subdue.

The human weakness settles on thy mind,

And sleepiness becomes conspirator

To gorge my belly with thy slumping flesh.

 

Theseus:

How art thou still alive? Thou’st had no fare

Since last twice-seven youths were fed to thee.

 

Minotaur:

We misbegotten things of nature’s womb

Die not from want of any nourishment –

Though hunger’s always ours for human meat

And thirst for gory drink those hast in thee.

Only some violent shock might end our lives…

And now, weak soul – thy hour’s come to die.

 

[lights darken]

 

Theseus:

[softly] Athena! Oh, show succor for my state!

No sword clutch I, as I approach my fate.

 

[he backs towards the pit – Minotaur charges, but Theseus dodges at the last second and the creature falls with a bellow into the fiery shaft – exit Theseus, grabbing his torch – lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene VII

[lights up on the shore of an isle – birdsong and the breaking of waves can be heard – enter Theseus and Ariadne]

 

Theseus:

There is a riddle that has puzzled me 

E’er since I was a child. It came to mind

As I was pacing up and down the ship

With nothing much to do. The riddle’s this:

Over the years, the boards of any boat

Must be replaced, for warp they, and they rot.

Now one by one they go, until at last

All planks that made the ship when first it sailed

Have been changed out. Now, what I ask myself

Is whether, so repaired, the ship’s the same

Or whether ’tis a new thing. What think’st thou?

 

Ariadne:

I think it is the same.

 

Theseus:

                                           And why is that?

 

Ariadne:

Because the mast and sail were not replaced.

 

[enter the Athenian youths with weapons and supplies]

 

Theseus:

[to the youths] Into the forest let us go to hunt,

For long the route to Athens still remains 

Upon a green and tossing wet expanse –

So many leagues, ’bove haunts of hippocamps,

Atop the ceiling o’er where oysters sleep.

This isle should grant us venison and boar,

Perhaps the pheasant, hare, or goose or goat.

And do not overlook what berries grow

And fruits, upon the boughs and laden bush.

Your pitchers fill from creeks and falls ye find –

Now off, and be back ere the sun descends.

 

[exeunt youths]

 

Ariadne, stay and build a fire.

We’ll cook ourselves such hearty fare this eve!

And one thing more: remind me to replace

Our black sail with a white one ere we near

The shore of Athens, for my father asked

Such signal if from maze I did emerge,

That he might know my fate while yet he scans

The sea from cliff-top, waiting ship’s return.

 

Ariadne:

Both shall I do for love of you, good prince.

 

[Theseus starts to leave]

 

Wilt thou not rest some minutes, dearest man?

Thine eyelids have not shut since first we sailed

From Knossos’ harbor in the midmost dark.

All day thou’st kept unflagging vigilance

Gazing astern, to watch for ships which might

Pursue the man who stole me from the king…

How many islands doth this sea contain –

How many places must they search for us?

We’re like a tiny gem amongst the grains

Of sand on shore. Lie down with me a bit,

And then thou’lt join thy friends.

 

Theseus:

                                                                 Against such words,

Such gentle power, I cannot hope to stand.

They lay me down like reeds ’neath pressing wind –

Subdue me like the wild beasts who’re subdued

By perfect lyre, strummed by unerring hands…

Or like those drowsy hundred eyes of him

Charmed by the staff that Hermes bore, which shut

So gently, one by one, hence forfeiting 

Their charge, and soon to haughty bird were moved.

If thou wouldst have me rest, I’ll rest by you.

 

[they lie down – Theseus falls asleep]

 

Ariadne:

Do you love me? You cannot answer now.

No words may pass within unconscious ears,

And few the words out lips when one’s asleep.

What’s in thy head? Thou couldst not answer me

E’en if thou wert awake – for who alive

Could tell each shapeless thing within his mind,

Or know if what he spoke were true or not?

 

Into the slumbrous places now I pass,

Each one distinct from all were seen before,

As desert differs from the rain-cooled glade

And fruitful forests from the barren stretch.

There are the thorny vales, the windy mounts,

The nectared gardens, and the somber rooms

In which a presence seems to follow you,

But never doth appear, howe’er one turns.

Ofttimes the dream-folk run across the hills,

Stampede or tumble – do they seek a boon

Or flee a terror? Other times they drowse

In fruit-decked bowers, listening to birds

Who sing of nothing, but so lovely sing.

 

One dream of late has come to haunt my head:

I was above the world, within the clouds,

Upon which golden columns seemed to rest,

And buildings square, the domiciles of sylphs

Who flitted while the sun flashed on their wands.

The vault above my head shone richly blue,

A fluid in which stars and comets swam:

A second sea, but one which knew no floor

And ever carried on until some end

Of time should seal such beauty from each soul.

Then from the midst of heaven, something fell

That seemed to enter in my heart and head:

Some diamond thought… the glint of happiness,

A love I’ve never felt, some simple peace,

As though I had reclaimed a long-lost friend.

 

I looked high o’er me, and a light looked down,

A golden flame that sparkled ’midst the dark.

Here was a thing could never know a name…

Except for Sleep, who’s monarch of all love,

Though Cupid’s thought to hold that kingdom’s seat.

My joy dissolved, my vision of that light

So gently; and no more I felt or saw.

It seemed a thousand years ’til I awoke –

And when I did, my heart knew utter calm.

 

Oh Theseus, may you and I meet there:

In highest space, beneath a glaring love –

If not this hour, some hour before we die…

Or after death, when sleep shall have no end.

 

[she falls asleep – enter Phaedra]

 

Phaedra:

Now comes my chance: they’re both asleep, alone!

From out the ship’s hold have I softly stol’n,

A stowaway amongst the barreled fare.

My sister, now the plan which thou hast wound

Shall come unspooled… In nighttime thou’lt awake

To nothing but this shore.

 

[produces two vials from her clothes]

 

                                                     Two powders gave

A man of magic arts into my hand:

The first is so my rival shan’t awake –

Not for a time, at least.

 

[she sprinkles one vial on Ariadne]

 

                                              This one is for

Sweet man for whom my lust has wanton grown…

Oh lust, ye wrapping weed which strangleth life

From all the useless flowers in the field!

 

[sprinkles other vial on Theseus]

 

Now wake, my love, and gaze upon the one

Who shall command thy sighs this moment on.

 

Theseus:

[waking] That dream I knew, when yet I laid my head

In Troezen – thou’rt the girl I saw amongst

The hedgerows, in a land of mild repose…

Who art thou? Dost thou live upon this isle?

 

Phaedra:

Ask nothing – only stand, and walk with me,

And pass into a grove, and let our hearts

Feel all of what was born when Cronus tossed

His father’s potency to groaning brine,

And bubbles sprang and blossomed in that tide.

 

Theseus:

[looking on Ariadne] But – what of her?

 

Phaedra:

                                                     No matter, love of mine –

Think not on her. This place shall be her home.

Let dryads of the trunks become her maids

Who’ll fashion raiment for her from the leaves.

Let naiads wash her, and let flower nymphs

Braid blossoms in the tresses of her hair.

 

Theseus:

I follow thee. And when the dusk has come,

With my companions shall we put to sea.

In time thou shalt become, of Athens, queen.

 

[exeunt Theseus and Phaedra – lights fall]

 

 

 

 

Act III

 

 

Scene I

 

[the banquet hall in Athens – lights up on Theseus, who has long been king]

 

Theseus:

A silent hall – no noise from any room.

I have my plate before me, and my cup,

And naught there is to do save stuff my pot

With all the handsome meats my cooks prepare.

My aging wine I tilt, spill past my teeth…

[drinks] It trickles patiently to soak my guts,

And never fails to wash my wits and sense

In murky pools of idle cheerfulness.

 

[goes to a window slothfully]

 

I stare from out this casement, and I view

A world the same as that I knew in youth –

But one that shall not pause, my death to rue.

 

They will not let me be, these memories…

Each day, each hour, my father’s in my mind.

I cannot help but see him: lifeless, dashed,

A snapped and broken heap upon the rocks

Where sparkling slimy waves collapsed and ran,

Then fell back towards the sea, draining his gore

Into the grottoes green, where fish did feed

Upon red clouds, his dissipating blood.

His sightless eyes still watch me from his head –

His crushed head, shattered skull and broken brain…

And all because I did not change my sail

From black to white, to let him know I’d lived.

 

Beneath the hills, beneath the ash-gray rocks,

Beneath the mountains where no beast can live,

There is a world where cold winds ever blow,

But no rains ever fall, nor rainbows glint.

To such drear land with Dia’s son I walked

Through shadows of the lonely hills and groves,

Beneath the black cliffs, over dewy stones,

Then down a passage through a mountainside,

That we might steal Persephone from him

Who watches o’er his land with visage grim.

 

He gave us seats, that monarch of the dead –

But from them not my friend nor I could rise,

For these were chairs that caused forgetfulness;

And while we sat, all seemed a fog and mist:

No thought nor feeling solid, nothing sure.

No joy was there, but neither was there pain:

No bliss of love, yet neither ache of loss.

Sometimes I wish that Hercules had not

Removed me from my seat and homewards ta’en,

And that I yet sat by my griefless friend…

That was the only true peace that I’ve known.

 

And now my thoughts turn round again to her

Without whom still I might be wandering

Amongst the twisting tunnels under Crete:

The girl I left alone upon a shore,

Of whom I’ve never heard a word since then.

A patient love comes back into my heart:

I see her weeping on that empty strand.

What came of her? I pray one of the gods

Made good her loss by taking her to him.

Why did I leave her? That time seems a cloud…

I know I slept upon a rustling beach,

And some voice – though I can’t recall the words –

Was speaking of some light within the sky.

Then saw I Phaedra’s face, and I assumed

She was the sweet one promised by my dreams,

So beautiful she looked beneath the sun.

Of sailing home, I have no memory:

What comes is only Phaedra’s soft embrace.

 

[sits again, brooding]

 

I fear the worst – and the worst is vile.

My son, Hippolytus, becomes a man

And lives in Troezen with his mother, she 

Who from the land of Amazons I stole:

Antiope, the sister of their queen.

To Athens lately did my scion ride

To visit me, and banquet in this hall.

I noticed Phaedra’s face when she him spied,

And his as well, when he the look returned.

At first I put these glances from my mind,

But more were cast – both ways – throughout the night.

My limbs sweat, and my innards squirm at this.

Such horrid thought! Yet, now my wife has asked

To take a retinue of thralls with her

To visit Troezen, see Antiope

And all her family folk – my son as well.

What should I think? I dare not bring this up,

For if there’s naught afoot, I’ll feel a fool

And seem to all a man of sordid thoughts:

A jealous ass, not fit to sit upon

Such honored throne as mine.

 

                                                               Yet, there’s a means,

Discreet and silent, that should show the truth.

In depth of night, while Phaedra is asleep,

I’ll rifle through her chests, baskets, and trunks,

And learn if any letters lend a clue.

If clues I find… there’ll be more work to do.

 

[lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene II

 

[lights up on Phaedra in her chamber, holding a letter]

 

Phaedra:

Ah love, but meager days keep you from me!

Around the gulf shall arms of Venus sweep

This trembling one into your waiting arms.

It’s thoughts of you that keep me up these nights.

How many times have I this letter read,

Like all the many letters that you’ve sent?

Each one have I committed to my mind

So that the message of thy love’s not lost

When I with fire destroy the evidence

Of lusts that would my husband set to rage.

This letter too I shall consign to coals,

Much as I wish a token I might keep

Inside my peplos ’til we lovers meet.

But let that wait ’til morning, when the flames

Of Helios arise to burn the clouds

And scorch the high horizon gold and red.

Meanwhile in sleep, Hippolytus, though thou

Art leagues from me, thy words shall not be far.

I’ll keep thy missive on my breathing breast,

Pretending it is thee thyself instead –

And in the early morn, it shall be burnt.

 

[snuffs out candles and falls asleep – enter Theseus with a candle]

 

Theseus:

[leans over her] Thou art as lovely as when first we met

Upon that strange shore on a languid day

That held a trace of eeriness in it.

So delicate, so innocent thou seemed’st.

I pray the gods no evidence I find

That might a heart of rottenness reveal.

 

[begins searching, then knocks over an unlit torch-stand – Phaedra wakes]

 

Phaedra:

[gasps] My king, what’s this? I’m startled half to death!

What is this rummaging through all my chests?

 

[remembers the letter and hides it, but Theseus sees this]

 

Theseus:

What’s that thou hast?

 

Phaedra:

                                              My king, ’tis naught at all:

Merely a list of what I mean to pack,

And what I’ll do tomorrow, ere I leave.

 

Theseus:

Give me the list.

 

Phaedra:

                                  My husband, I would not –

Some lines were meant for no one but myself.

 

Theseus:

Thy king commands thee; give the page to him.

 

[she still resists, but he finds and seizes it]

 

’Tis not thy hand – it looketh much like mine.

[reads] My heart jumps in the waters of the wild,

A fish that waits the morsel to consume

And swallow gladly down the barbèd hook

That drags him up, into a dappling light –

For joy’s a death; thou art the angler come

Beside the ocean to ensnare my love.

Hippolytus.

 

[crumpling the page] Now, get thee from my sight.

 

Phaedra:

My king –

 

Theseus:

                     Another breath, I’ll call the guards

And tell them how their queen has been disgraced,

And in what manner ought they whip her back

As she is driven from the palace gate

At midday, so the town should learn her crime:

That she hath kept and cherished such a note.

From Athens art thou banished.

 

Phaedra:

                                                                 Stay such word!

Oh Theseus, this is not how it seems…

His love is not requited! Once I read

Such words, I must have fainted on my bed,

So shocking was the feeling they expressed.

 

Theseus:

Lie not to me. I saw the silent speech

Thy eyes did mouth, and his, when in this house

He last did visit. Now, for what thou planned’st

And did intend, thou must some other town

Make home – or live amongst the hinterlands.

Now go, before thy shame should be revealed.

 

Phaedra:

The king has judged me – and my doom is sealed.

 

[she exits, lights fall]

 

 

 

Scene III

 

[lights up on Theseus in his chamber, looking out the window, now very old]

Theseus:

How still the winter rests upon the world.

The hare and fox sleep dreamlessly, the bear

Knows nothing of the coldness blowing round,

And owls among the olives close their eyes.

Would I could sleep as peacefully as they…

These are the days of waiting for an end –

My life lies in the past, yet lingers on.

 

What does one do, when everything’s been done?

With Dia’s son I fought the centaurs off

Who meant to steal the women of his land

Upon his wedding day. And, with that man

And many more besides, sought I the boar

That ravaged every field of Calydon,

To bring him low with arrow, spear, or club…

And Athens, too, has seen me wield the sword

That day when ships from Pontus did disgorge

Ten thousand Amazons upon my coast,

Who meant to storm within the city walls

And bear Antiope back to her home,

For much loved was she by Hippolyta.

But ’twixt two loves, that much-loved one was crushed,

For those who fought her knew not who she was

Inside her helm and armor, all of gold –

And arrows pierced her, daggers jabbed her sides,

And maces crushed the skull beneath her crest.

Beside me in fell battle did she fall…

There is no victor, when the prize is gone.

 

Three women have I loved: One did I leave,

One lost her life-blood, and one long ago

I sent into the tracts of wilderness

Where only birds and sprites give company,

And crows glare down with eyes inscrutable 

From branches, in each place of emptiness.

Where did she walk? I do forgive her now, 

Though years have passed, and nothing might it serve.

Oh, how I would recall her to my side

If I were able, so that we’d embrace

And say farewell before our lives should end.

 

[pauses]

 

Now out from depths of all – where guilt sits dark

Beyond all shade or shadow – comes this urge

My cruelest crime to speak: how plaint I hissed,

Once Phaedra fled this house, to father mine

Who dwells in sea-caves, that he work my wrath

Upon my son, mine own Hippolytus,

For lusting for my queen… Oh, hardest hate

That made me breathe such curse! I asked his death,

His violent end, be sudden, horrid, swift –

And such it fell, too swift for me to weep

Repentant tears in time. 

 

                                                   A messenger

With solemn face and bitter missive came

As sat I here in silence, all alone,

Much fearful he, and sorrowful, to speak

The sequel of my words implored to god

Of storms and tidal surge, of swelling waves,

My second father, blue and briny lord

Who – as my son was driving by the sea

His chariot – did sudden, out the swirl

And spray of surf, an ocean beast unleash…

And still I think how trembled messenger

And trembled mine own limbs, and core, and heart,

As spoke he how appeared the sparkling scales

And horns upon a head of wicked look

Rearing above the strand, the grasping arms

Clutching the rocks, those claws making to clutch

The steeds that whinnied, bolted, dragged the car

Far from that monster and the sound it made

Like clangor of the thunder – dragged my son,

My poor Hippolytus, who still the reins

Held tightly… ’til at last they came undone,

His wheels; and car did crack, and all was spilt –

His body, blood, and life – across the fields,

Amid the wreckage, as the horses slowed…

Slowed down, their master left, hid in the woods

As moaned his last life he whom my dread speech

Had dark wrath called to strike, and make to groan –

Such groan as now within me shudders like

The sighs of Erebus: those final words

Through all time spoken: ruthful, lonely… lost.

 

[lights darken – enter Hypnos in the form of a bat]

 

Uncanny one, thou light’st upon my bed.

I look into thy face, thou look’st in mine…

Almost I think thou hast somewhat to say.

 

Hypnos:

Pale poppies line my cave – guess who I am.

 

Theseus:

That one who lives in darkness, and sends dreams

From out two gates: one horn, one ivory.

 

Hypnos:

Thou tak’st my clue, and follow it to truth.

 

Theseus:

And from which gate didst thou set out for me?

 

Hypnos:

I must not tell – ’tis not for thee to know.

 

Theseus:

Oh so? Am I not worthy to be told

One secret? I’m an old and honored king.

 

Hypnos:

So art thou. Yet be patient, Theseus.

 

Theseus:

I do not wish to be. I pray thee, tell,

And anything thou askest, I shall give.

 

Hypnos:

Thou swearest this?

 

Theseus:

                                          By every god, I do.

No longer tease me with thy mysteries:

I know that thou and Cupid are one soul.

 

Hypnos:

So seems it, to the ones who’re living still,

Yet have no more to do upon this earth.

 

Theseus:

Am I not right?

 

Hypnos:

                               Come with me, through thy door,

And down the steps, and out the postern gate,

And towards the veil’d land, where my cavern dwells.

Step out this way, and I’ll tell thee the truth.

 

[Theseus hesitates, begins to follow, then stops again]

 

Theseus:

Will I return? [silence] I bid thee, answer me.

 

Hypnos:

Step towards the night, and answered thou shalt be.

 

[exeunt – lights fall]

 

 

 

Finis

 

 

 

 

(Ariadne Deserted by Theseus by Herbert James Draper)

 

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