King Lear's Wife; The Crier by Night; The Riding to Lithend; Midsummer-Eve Part 35

Stand up, my Danae, be overbearing.

Women, when any woman has a kingdom And is a regnant being, does it not suit That in the disposition of her state Women should figure her and power afar?

This kingdom I control has thrones of cities, So many that I, when I would sit therein, Must cast my shadow there: and chief of these Is Babylon the nest of bygone things.

'Tis to that Babylon I now appoint My bosom's clasp, my Danae, for satrap; She shall oppress among dead queens and G.o.ds, Keep house where sheer dominion walks, command Enamelled palaces with copper roofs, Pillars with gardens for their pediments-- Staircase for Anakim in Babylon: And when ye are as dear to me as she Ye shall advance upon such larger ways.

DANAe.

O, what is this you do? I am lost in it.

A WOMAN.

But how? The duplicate queen holds Babylon.

LAODICE.

It shall be mine again ere Danae's advent....

Danae, sister of pearls, do I displease you?

DANAe.

Tell out your purpose, though I wreck by it.

LAODICE.

Could higher estate persuade such disbelief?

Barsine, now disburden of its store The old bra.s.s coffer in my inner house-- The gems, the flower-striped silks, the mousse-lines Worn by such royal girls of Babylon; So rare a satrap as we do devise Must be as Babylonish as her earth.

_BARSINE goes out._

Put out your hand, young princess, dip your hand Among these herded common indiscretions, And gratefully they'll mouth it. Nay, I'll lead you.

SECOND WOMAN.

Madam, remember me when you are mighty.

THIRD WOMAN.

And, O, forget not me.

LAODICE.

Arise, you humbled ones, jealous too long; Take off her Greekish marks of my poor service, Make ready her precious body to be tangled In clotted skeins of her affiliate province.

_The women strip DANAe of all but her under-robe._

O friend, I do reproach you, for your gay heart Has surely turned from me too easily When something in you fades and alters so....

I have done this--my cherished, still keep mine....

_BARSINE enters, her arms heaped with robes: LAODICE fingers them._

These are your pretties. Greeks know not how to use Layers of denial--you Persian, can you say?

_BARSINE, attiring DANAe in the new garments._

These silken trousers tied above the knees, Yet falling to the feet, are first.

LAODICE. Ay, so.

BARSINE.

And now this inner gown shrinks close.

LAODICE. Ay, so.

BARSINE.

Then this brocady robe with fan-flung train And widening m.u.f.fling sleeves.

LAODICE, _holding up a sleeve._ Can it be so?

Pure Greeks conceive not slavery of sleeves.

BARSINE.

The pointed citron shoes.

LAODICE. Not even sandals?

BARSINE.

There needs a shawl like gardens for a girdle, But none was h.o.a.rded.

LAODICE. Put your own on her.

Give me the jewels: I wish to play with the jewels.

BARSINE.

In the horn sphere: press on the metal hands.

The strings of golden tears and yellow stones Hang hidy in the hair. I will unbind Your lady's locks and shew you.

LAODICE. Keep off: I must unloose them, It is my custom.

DANAe, _in a low voice._ O, what are you doing?

BARSINE.

Round to the temples, so: this drops upon the brow....

That breast of gold--pierced roses, diamond dew-- Curves on the head, no heavier than your hand....

Coils chime upon the ankles--the East walks slowly.

LAODICE.

We come to the necklace.

BARSINE. Yes, but it is lacking.

LAODICE, _to the_ SECOND WOMAN.

You white-faced marvel, body of straight lines, Give me your necklace dropt inside your chiton.

SECOND WOMAN.

O, do you see it? I cannot let it go-- It was my sister's, and she is dead since.... Ah ... h ...

LAODICE, _s.n.a.t.c.hing the necklace roughly._ 'Tis well for you it did not strangle you When caught: but ye are all so envious yet.

There, Danae, my hands shall finish you.

A painted wonder this I have created-- I am no better than the rest before it, And I will do my homage, knees and lips.