Cleon
Enter L ENTULUS , L UCULLUS , and others .
Lentulus . And so you missed the banquet — 't is a pity!
You would have seen a new sight in those days.
Lucullus . Why — was 't uncommon?
Len. Jupiter, that it was! why, this same Cleon,
He is a perfect prince in entertainments.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Such show of plates and cups both gold and silver,
Such flaming rainbows of all colored stones,
Such wine, such music. . . .
Luc. And so the emperor himself was there.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
He takes to this young lord with special favor.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We shall live twice as fast while he is here.
Len. By Bacchus then we shall be lived to death.
I'm almost out of breath with living now.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Luc. Cleon seeks pleasure with a ravening thirst.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Diversion is his labor and he works
With hand and foot and soul both night and day
He throws out money with so flush a hand
As makes e'en Nero's waste seem parsimony.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Scene Cleon's house. An apartment splendidly furnished. Cleon reclining on a couch .
Enter S LAVE
Slave . My lord, an aged man doth wait to see you.
Cleon . Well, have him up.
In nature's name what now!
Enter D IAGORAS .
Cleon . Ha! may I trust my eyes, Diagoras!
Dia. I am Diagoras if thou art Cleon.
Cleon . Why then thou art, but wherefore eye me so?
Sit down and contemplate me at your leisure.
Dia. Thou dost not seem the same that once I knew.
Cleon . Why, that's the truth — for since that time, good sire
Nature hath made me present of ten years,
And much hath been rubbed off or out of me
In the rough jostle of this worthy world.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I pray you to sit down.
Dia. There is no seat.
Cleon . Why, thou hast lost thy eyes, good sire, I think;
Thou'st a fair choice between some thirty couches,
Phrygian and Graecian and of every name.
Dia. Oh, then these beds adorned with pearls and gold
Are made to sit on. Pray you pardon me;
I am a simple man, used to plain things.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . Ah, I divine thou art displeased, good master.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
As it is there is no choice between two evils:
Either to rest thy philosophic feet
Upon this most profanely glittering floor
Which as thou seest is all inlaid with gems,
Or rest thyself on these aforesaid beds.
Nay, I but jested; look not sad, good father,
Thou knowest Cleon's reckless tongue of old;
I do assure thee of a hearty welcome.
And pray you sit that I may see thee longer.
Dia. But I am sad for what I see and hear.
I hear thou art the common talk for waste,
And that in riot and loose luxury
Thou dost outstrip even these degenerate days.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And thou companion of the very scum,
The very dross and dregs of all mankind;
Cleon . Which is the Emperor!
Dia. Be that as it may, such is the tale of thee;
Which I discredited until I came
To look upon thee with my personal eyes;
And I have questioned much...
Is this the Athenian Cleon? Is this he
Who drank philosophy and worshiped virtue?
This he who triumphed in the Olympic race
Followed by wondering eyes?...
Rememberest thou the glory of those days?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . Good master! I am even as you see,
A most degenerate and apostate thing
Convicted utterly. . . .
Dia. But canst thou tamely sink into a brute?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . 'T is but anticipating transmigration.
And then, if ever I am called to that
I shall behave the more respectably
For having practiced somewhat in this world.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dia. I do not wish to hear thy mockery.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh, could thy noble brother from the dead
Look up, how would his high-born spirit burn
To see thee groveling in this filthy sty.
Cleon [ much moved ].
'Tis well! 'Tis well! Thou shouldst have spoke of him
My brother...
You find me, it is true, embedded here,
Sunk as you say in this luxurious slough.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Would that there were no vestige of high hopes,
No ghosts of happier moments to return,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
No need to labor in such desperate case.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It is my curse that I have had all things.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The things that satisfy the common crowd
I have possessed and desperately striven
To bend my soul to satisfaction with them.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Scene changes.
And what said Cleon? Steady as Heaven
He answered with a decorous majesty
Declaring in so many words his purpose,
And willing to abide whate'er should come.
Why, Nero could have stood a fiery answer,
But this severe composure madded him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
His face grew livid and he stamped his foot
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And bade the slaves bring in the torture.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The worst of us were scarce prepared for that.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Scene : C LEON , N ERO .
Cleon, weak and faint, led in by two soldiers.
Nero . Sit down, Lord Cleon.
Cleon . I can stand.
Nero . My lord, we have bethought us since last night,
Regretting much that reverence for the gods
By thee attacked so fired our mind with zeal
As to outstep the limits of our mercy.
We would that gentler measures had been tried
Or thine avowal in less open day,
Less in the very teeth of our commands.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . Grieve not, my liege, for you have scarcely wronged me.
Nero . There have been few frequenters of our court
On whom our eye hath borne such kind regard.
Thyself doth know how we have chosen thee
To be the prime companion of our revels,
From which hath grown a friendship of whose strength
We knew not till of late; for when last night,
The fumes of wine dispelled and ourselves cool,
Our very heart was shaken with remorse.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Nero will ask thee pardon of his wrong;
Thy friend and not thy prince behold in him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . My sovereign, Cleon hath no way complained.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Nero . But here, my lord, our mind is much perplexed.
We have forbid and interdict this faith
As what we have good cause to know is ill,
Infecting men with pestilential fumes,
Transforming them to haters of the Gods
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We would give tolerance to the freest thought
Were not that we have lately given to justice
The sect and faith which thou canst not embrace
Save 'gainst our face — against our very laws.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We are thy friend and not disposed to hear
That which might chafe us to severity,
Of which the gods do know we 've had enough.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
My lord, we cannot think that you will hold it.
We are persuaded of your better reason.
To be a follower of a crazy Jew.
Cleon [ starting up ].
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I could sit still to hear myself reviled,
But not my sovereign. . . .
I will not hold the right of drawing breath
Unless —
Nero . There are most decorous fruits of holy faith!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . I stand rebuked, my lord, both before thee
And Him who is thy King no less than mine,
For whose sake I would reverence all forms.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Nero . Thou art resolved to trespass on forbearance,
Yet we will still forbear and seek to conquer
By mildness more than force. . . .
Since this name moves you, we will say no more.
What need we say. Suppose you be a Christian,
Why need all nature know it; be you quiet,
You shall have private tolerance; hold your peace
And worship what you will out of my sight.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . But then, if I am questioned of my faith?
Nero . Art thou so versed in smooth decoying phrase
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And cannot turn off blank enquiry?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But we can put you in a post of honor
So that all men shall wink upon thy will.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . My lord, I scarce can trust myself to answer,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Since I have heard such degradation named.
In place of open bold apostasy,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thou dost propose an hourly, daily lie.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It is my settled purpose while I live
To leave no word or argument untried
To win all men to reverence Him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Lentulus . And so you missed the banquet — 't is a pity!
You would have seen a new sight in those days.
Lucullus . Why — was 't uncommon?
Len. Jupiter, that it was! why, this same Cleon,
He is a perfect prince in entertainments.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Such show of plates and cups both gold and silver,
Such flaming rainbows of all colored stones,
Such wine, such music. . . .
Luc. And so the emperor himself was there.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
He takes to this young lord with special favor.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We shall live twice as fast while he is here.
Len. By Bacchus then we shall be lived to death.
I'm almost out of breath with living now.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Luc. Cleon seeks pleasure with a ravening thirst.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Diversion is his labor and he works
With hand and foot and soul both night and day
He throws out money with so flush a hand
As makes e'en Nero's waste seem parsimony.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Scene Cleon's house. An apartment splendidly furnished. Cleon reclining on a couch .
Enter S LAVE
Slave . My lord, an aged man doth wait to see you.
Cleon . Well, have him up.
In nature's name what now!
Enter D IAGORAS .
Cleon . Ha! may I trust my eyes, Diagoras!
Dia. I am Diagoras if thou art Cleon.
Cleon . Why then thou art, but wherefore eye me so?
Sit down and contemplate me at your leisure.
Dia. Thou dost not seem the same that once I knew.
Cleon . Why, that's the truth — for since that time, good sire
Nature hath made me present of ten years,
And much hath been rubbed off or out of me
In the rough jostle of this worthy world.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I pray you to sit down.
Dia. There is no seat.
Cleon . Why, thou hast lost thy eyes, good sire, I think;
Thou'st a fair choice between some thirty couches,
Phrygian and Graecian and of every name.
Dia. Oh, then these beds adorned with pearls and gold
Are made to sit on. Pray you pardon me;
I am a simple man, used to plain things.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . Ah, I divine thou art displeased, good master.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
As it is there is no choice between two evils:
Either to rest thy philosophic feet
Upon this most profanely glittering floor
Which as thou seest is all inlaid with gems,
Or rest thyself on these aforesaid beds.
Nay, I but jested; look not sad, good father,
Thou knowest Cleon's reckless tongue of old;
I do assure thee of a hearty welcome.
And pray you sit that I may see thee longer.
Dia. But I am sad for what I see and hear.
I hear thou art the common talk for waste,
And that in riot and loose luxury
Thou dost outstrip even these degenerate days.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And thou companion of the very scum,
The very dross and dregs of all mankind;
Cleon . Which is the Emperor!
Dia. Be that as it may, such is the tale of thee;
Which I discredited until I came
To look upon thee with my personal eyes;
And I have questioned much...
Is this the Athenian Cleon? Is this he
Who drank philosophy and worshiped virtue?
This he who triumphed in the Olympic race
Followed by wondering eyes?...
Rememberest thou the glory of those days?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . Good master! I am even as you see,
A most degenerate and apostate thing
Convicted utterly. . . .
Dia. But canst thou tamely sink into a brute?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . 'T is but anticipating transmigration.
And then, if ever I am called to that
I shall behave the more respectably
For having practiced somewhat in this world.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dia. I do not wish to hear thy mockery.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh, could thy noble brother from the dead
Look up, how would his high-born spirit burn
To see thee groveling in this filthy sty.
Cleon [ much moved ].
'Tis well! 'Tis well! Thou shouldst have spoke of him
My brother...
You find me, it is true, embedded here,
Sunk as you say in this luxurious slough.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Would that there were no vestige of high hopes,
No ghosts of happier moments to return,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
No need to labor in such desperate case.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It is my curse that I have had all things.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The things that satisfy the common crowd
I have possessed and desperately striven
To bend my soul to satisfaction with them.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Scene changes.
And what said Cleon? Steady as Heaven
He answered with a decorous majesty
Declaring in so many words his purpose,
And willing to abide whate'er should come.
Why, Nero could have stood a fiery answer,
But this severe composure madded him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
His face grew livid and he stamped his foot
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And bade the slaves bring in the torture.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The worst of us were scarce prepared for that.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Scene : C LEON , N ERO .
Cleon, weak and faint, led in by two soldiers.
Nero . Sit down, Lord Cleon.
Cleon . I can stand.
Nero . My lord, we have bethought us since last night,
Regretting much that reverence for the gods
By thee attacked so fired our mind with zeal
As to outstep the limits of our mercy.
We would that gentler measures had been tried
Or thine avowal in less open day,
Less in the very teeth of our commands.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . Grieve not, my liege, for you have scarcely wronged me.
Nero . There have been few frequenters of our court
On whom our eye hath borne such kind regard.
Thyself doth know how we have chosen thee
To be the prime companion of our revels,
From which hath grown a friendship of whose strength
We knew not till of late; for when last night,
The fumes of wine dispelled and ourselves cool,
Our very heart was shaken with remorse.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Nero will ask thee pardon of his wrong;
Thy friend and not thy prince behold in him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . My sovereign, Cleon hath no way complained.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Nero . But here, my lord, our mind is much perplexed.
We have forbid and interdict this faith
As what we have good cause to know is ill,
Infecting men with pestilential fumes,
Transforming them to haters of the Gods
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We would give tolerance to the freest thought
Were not that we have lately given to justice
The sect and faith which thou canst not embrace
Save 'gainst our face — against our very laws.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We are thy friend and not disposed to hear
That which might chafe us to severity,
Of which the gods do know we 've had enough.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
My lord, we cannot think that you will hold it.
We are persuaded of your better reason.
To be a follower of a crazy Jew.
Cleon [ starting up ].
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I could sit still to hear myself reviled,
But not my sovereign. . . .
I will not hold the right of drawing breath
Unless —
Nero . There are most decorous fruits of holy faith!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . I stand rebuked, my lord, both before thee
And Him who is thy King no less than mine,
For whose sake I would reverence all forms.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Nero . Thou art resolved to trespass on forbearance,
Yet we will still forbear and seek to conquer
By mildness more than force. . . .
Since this name moves you, we will say no more.
What need we say. Suppose you be a Christian,
Why need all nature know it; be you quiet,
You shall have private tolerance; hold your peace
And worship what you will out of my sight.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . But then, if I am questioned of my faith?
Nero . Art thou so versed in smooth decoying phrase
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And cannot turn off blank enquiry?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But we can put you in a post of honor
So that all men shall wink upon thy will.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cleon . My lord, I scarce can trust myself to answer,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Since I have heard such degradation named.
In place of open bold apostasy,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thou dost propose an hourly, daily lie.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It is my settled purpose while I live
To leave no word or argument untried
To win all men to reverence Him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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