Read Ebook: The Two Lovers of Heaven: Chrysanthus and Daria A Drama of Early Christian Rome by Calder N De La Barca Pedro MacCarthy Denis Florence Translator
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THE TWO LOVERS OF HEAVEN.
PERSONS.
NUMERIANUS, Emperor of Rome. POLEMIUS, Chief Senator. CHRYSANTHUS, his son. CLAUDIUS, cousin of Chrysanthus. AURELIUS, a Roman general. CARPOPHORUS, a venerable priest. ESCARPIN, servant of Chrysanthus. DARIA, CYNTHIA, NISIDA, CHLORIS, } Priestesses of Diana. Two spirits. Angels. Soldiers, servants, people, music, etc.
SCENE: Rome and its environs.
ACT THE FIRST.
Chrysanthus is seen seated near a writing table on which are several books: he is reading a small volume with deep attention.
CHRYSANTHUS. Ah! how shallow is my mind! How confined! and how restricted! Ah! how driftless are my words! And my thoughts themselves how driftless! Since I cannot comprehend, Cannot pierce the secrets hidden In this little book that I Found by chance with others mingled. I its meaning cannot reach, Howsoe'er my mind I rivet, Though to this, and this alone, Many a day has now been given. But I cannot therefore yield, Must not own myself outwitted:-- No; a studious toil so great Should not end in aught so little. O'er this book my whole life long Shall I brood until the riddle Is made plain, or till some sage Simplifies what here is written. For which end I 'll read once more Its beginning. How my instinct Uses the same word with which Even the book itself beginneth!-- "In the beginning was the Word" . . If in language plain and simple Word means speech, how then was it In the beginning? Since a whisper Presupposes power to breathe it, Proves an earlier existence, And to that anterior Power Here the book doth not bear witness. Then this follows: "And the Word Was with God"--nay more, 't is written, "And the Word was God: was with Him In the beginning, and by HIM then All created things were made And without Him naught was finshed":-- Oh! what mysteries, what wonders, In this tangled labyrinthine Maze lie hid! which I so many Years have studied, with such mingled Aid from lore divine and human Have in vain tried to unriddle!-- "In the beginning was the Word".-- Yes, but when was this beginning? Was it when Jove, Neptune, Pluto Shared the triple zones betwixt them, When the one took to himself Heaven supreme, one hell's abysses, And the sea the third, to Ceres Leaving earth, the ever-wing`ed Time to Saturn, fire to Phoebus, And the air to Jove's great sister?-- No, it could not have been then, For the fact of their partition Shows that heaven and earth then were, Shows that sea and land existed:-- The beginning then must be Something more remote and distant: He who has expressly said 'The beginning,' must have hinted At the primal cause of all things, At the first and great beginning, All things growing out of HIM, He himself the pre-existent:-- Yes, but then a new beginning Must we seek for this beginner, And so on ad infinitum; Since if I, on soaring pinion Seek from facts to rise to causes, Rising still from where I had risen, I will find at length there is No beginning to the beginning, And the inference that time Somehow was, ere time existed, And that that which ne'er begun Ne'er can end, is plain and simple. But, my thought, remain not here, Rest not in those narrow limits, But rise up with me and dare Heights that make the brain grow dizzy:-- And at once to enter there, Other things being pretermitted, Let us venture where the mind, As the darkness round it thickens, Almost faints as we resume What this mystic scribe has written. "And the Word", this writer says, "Was made flesh!" Ah! how can this be? Could the Word that in the beginning Was with God, was God, was gifted With such power as to make all things, Could it be made flesh? In pity, Heavens! or take from me at once All the sense that you have given me, Or at once on me bestow Some intelligence, some glimmer Of clear light through these dark shadows:-- Deity, unknown and hidden, God or Word, whate'er thou beest, Of Thyself the great beginner, Of Thyself the end, if, Thou Being Thyself beyond time's sickle, Still in time the world didst fashion, If Thou 'rt life, O living spirit, If Thou 'rt light, my darkened senses With Thy life and light enkindle!--
First Voice. Hear, Chrysanthus . . .
Second Voice. Listen . . .
CHRYSANTHUS. Two Voices, if they are not instincts, Shadows without soul or body, Which my fancy forms within me, Are contending in my bosom Each with each at the same instant.
CHRYSANTHUS. Jove, it must be Jove, by whom Breath, speech, life itself are given.
CHRYSANTHUS. Self-existent! first and last! Reason cannot grasp that dictum.
First Voice. In the beginning of the world Jove in heaven his high throne fix`ed, Leaving less imperial thrones To the other gods to fill them.
CHRYSANTHUS. Yes, if he could not alone Rule creation unassisted.
Second Voice. God was God, long, long before Earth or heaven's blue vault existed, He was in Himself, ere He Gave to time its life and mission.
First Voice. Worship only pay to Jove, God o'er all our gods uplifted.
Second Voice. Worship pay to God alone, He the infinite, the omniscient.
First Voice. He doth lord the world below.
Second Voice. He is Lord of Heaven's high kingdom.
First Voice. Shun the lightnings of his wrath.
Second Voice. Seek the waves of his forgiveness. Such a host of anxious troubles? Such a crowd of boding terrors? Can I be the same calm student Who awhile ago here wended? To a miracle of beauty, To a fair face now surrendered, I scarce know what brought me hither, I my purpose scarce remember. What bewitchment, what enchantment, What strange lethargy, what frenzy Can have to my heart, those eyes Such divine delirium sent me? What divinity, desirous That I should not know the endless Mysteries of the book I carry, In my path such snares presenteth, Seeking from these serious studies To distract me and divert me? But what 's this I say? One passion Accidentally developed, Should not be enough, no, no, From myself myself to sever. If the violence of one star Draws me to a deity's service, It compels not; for the planets Draw, but force not, the affections. Free is yet my will, my mind too, Free is still my heart: then let me Try to solve more noble problems Than the doubts that love presenteth. And since Claudius, the new Clytie Of the sun, whose golden tresses Lead him in pursuit, her footsteps Follows through the wood, my servant Having happily too departed, And since yonder rocks where endeth The dark wood in savage wildness Must be the rude rustic shelter Of the Christians who fled thither, I 'll approach them to endeavour To find there Carpophorus:-- He alone, the wise, the learn`ed, Can my understanding rescue From its night-mare dreams and guesses.
CHRYSANTHUS. What! base wretches . . .
AURELIUS. Gag their mouths.
CHRYSANTHUS. But then I am . . .
AURELIUS. Come, no words: now tie together Both their hands behind their backs.
CHRYSANTHUS. Why I am . . .
CARPOPHORUS. Oh! sacred heaven! Now my wished-for day has come.
A VOICE FROM HEAVEN. No, not yet, my faithful servant:-- I desire the constancy Of Chrysanthus may be tested:-- Heed not him, as for thyself, In this manner I preserve thee. Where he is?
ESCARPIN. Sir, since the day That you left me with my master In Diana's grove, and I Had with that divinest charmer To leave him, no eye has seen him. Love alone knows how it mads me.
CLAUDIUS. Of your loyalty I doubt not.
ESCARPIN. Loyalty 's a different matter, 'T is not wholly that.
CLAUDIUS. What then?
ESCARPIN. Dark suspicions, dismal fancies, That perhaps to live with her He lies hid within those gardens.
CLAUDIUS. If I could imagine that, I, Escarpin, would be gladdened Rather than depressed.
ESCARPIN. I 'm not:-- I am filled, like a full barrel, With depressions.
CLAUDIUS. And for what?
ESCARPIN. Certain wild chimeras haunt me, Jealousy doth tear my heart, And despairing love distracts me.
CLAUDIUS. You in love and jealous?
ESCARPIN. I Jealous and in love. Why marvel? Am I such a monster?
CLAUDIUS. What! With Daria?
ESCARPIN. 'T is no matter What her name is, or Daria Or Maria, I would have her Both subjective and subjunctive, She verb passive, I verb active.
CLAUDIUS. You to love so rare a beauty?
ESCARPIN. Yes, her beauty, though uncommon, Would lack something, if it had not My devotion.
CLAUDIUS. How? explain:--
ESCARPIN. Well, I prove it in this manner:-- Mr. Dullard fell in love With a very lovely lady: At her coach-door as he chattered One fine evening, he such nonsense Talked, that one who heard his clatter, Asked the lady in amazement If this simpleton's advances Did not make her doubt her beauty?-- But she quite gallantly answered, Never until now have I Felt so proud of my attractions, For no beauty can be perfect That all sorts of men do n't flatter.
CLAUDIUS. What a feeble jest!
ESCARPIN. This feeble?--
CLAUDIUS. Yes, the very type of flatness:-- Cease buffooning, for my uncle Here is coming.
ESCARPIN. Of his sadness Plainly is his face the mirror.
Enter Polemius and servants.
CLAUDIUS. Jupiter doth know the anguish, My good lord, with which I venture To approach thee since this happened.
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