The Return of Alcestis: A Play in One Act: by Laurence Housman

Samuel French: Publisher

28-30 West Thirty-eighth Street: New York

LONDON

Samuel French, Ltd.

26 [Southampton] Street Strand

Copyright, 1916, by Laurence Housman

CAUTION.—Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that THE RETURN OF ALCESTIS, being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, is subject to [royalty], and any one presenting the play without the consent of the author or his authorized agent, will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for the right to produce THE RETURN OF ALCESTIS must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

THE RETURN OF ALCESTIS.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Alcestis

Her Nurse

Her Daughter

Her Attendants

Chorus of Women

Admetus

Pheres (his father)

Eumelos (his son)

His Attendant

Chorus of Men

Hymen

THE RETURN OF ALCESTIS

Scene:—A chamber in the house of Admetus, King of Pheræ. Across the center, backed by pillars, stretches a high screen, with curtained entrances at back to right and left. Before it stands the bridal couch, in front of which is a chair facing the audience. Down-stage at center, on a lower level, is the domestic altar. By the altar stands Hymen bearing a torch.

Hymen.—

House of Admetus, whom the Gods befriend,

Peace be within your gates, and joy attend

On this day’s bridal! For now Pheres’ son,

Helped by the hand of Heracles, hath won

Back from the tomb his wife, who blameless died

That he might live; and, to reclaim his bride,

Comes now where, lo, the nuptial feast is spread.

So shall fruit crown once more the marriage-bed,

And to his loins give sons, and thence make strong

The breed of his great race; for whom, when song

Was hushed in Heaven, Phoebus, the sun-bright God,

Did shepherd-service, and inglorious trod

These walls within. To him the God then gave

This promise, that he should not see the grave,

If, of free-will, one, offering in his stead,

Rendered the debt. So passed she to the dead:

But comes again upraised. Therefore, ’tis meet

That they which mourned should dance, and mouths make sweet

Music about this chamber, decked and dight

For fruitful wedlock: whereto I bring light,

And warmth, and blessing. So may surer bliss,

And through long years, attend the marriage kiss,

Which here now is to be.

(Exit Hymen. Enter Chorus of Women.)

1st Semi-Chorus.—

As the springs, and the rains, and the rivers

Of hills, that replenish the earth,

Sink and are lost, yet rise and return

To the land of their birth;

And freshen with streams and showers

All herbs and flowers

Which yearn:

2nd Semi-Chorus.—

So thou, O fairest of givers,

Life-bringer, light-bearer to men,

With hands most tender to save,

And face by the terrors of death

Unappalled, and by love made brave,

1st Semi-Chorus.—

And with lips for the spending of breath

More quick than the lips of a runner

Whose feet are set to the goal:

(Enter Nurse bearing wedding raiment.)

Chorus.—

So thou, our dearest and best,

Art risen again from the grave;

And the land at thy coming is blest.

2nd Semi-Chorus.—

And for thee, befriended of fate,

My grief and sorrow were vain;

So with joy in my heart I wait,

Till eyes behold thee again.

Chorus Leader.—

Nurse of our mistress, wherefore dost thou stand

Silent before us, holding in thy hand

The wedding raiment? Dost thou not hail the day?

(The Nurse lets fall the raiment.)

Oh! What means this?

Nurse.—

That having naught to say

Of good, I would be mute!

Leader.—

From what black bough of evil falls that fruit

Of speech so darkly uttered?

Nurse.—

Peace, let be!

The Gods drive home their gift. Soon shall ye see

Our mistress come forth to your midst again.

Leader.—

Redeemed from death?

Nurse.—

Yea, for she lies not slain.

Leader.—

Thy words sound strange!—But living, thou hast said?

Nurse.—

Aye, surely living, since she is not dead.

Leader.—

Speak, mother: hast thou aught to tell of woe?

Nurse.—

Ye women, I speak only as I know.

She that was dead now lives: gracious of form,

Gentle of face is she; her hands are warm

To my hands holding them; she feels no pain;

Death on her beauty has not left a stain;

But pure, but perfect, as on the day she died,

So have I found her,—lovely as when a bride

First came she to this chamber of our lord.

Leader.—

All that thou sayest is good!

Nurse.—

I speak no word,

Women, but as I know. Ah! God, these eyes

Which knew her as a child!—They that be wise,

Dying, let them stay dead!

(Exit Nurse.)

Leader.—

O Women, all ye that have heard,

What comfort find ye in this word——

‘Let the dying stay dead’?

Chorus.—

Earth is old, Time is long,

And the days that we live are few.

Many arise, and are born,

They mount and wax strong,

Stand thick together like corn;

But to them death cometh anew.

They are reaped, and are borne to the grave:

Men know them no more.

2nd Semi-Chorus.—

Yet a gift from the Gods was breath,

Not a curse, O sister, O friend!

For the search of my heart hath shown

How life is sweet to the taste;

And the sorrow that waits in the end

For the feet which haste

Is death!

God gave me a little breath:

Shall I not cleave to it now?

(Enter Alcestis leaning upon the hands of Women, and accompanied by her Nurse. They seat her upon the throne. She remains motionless.)

1st Semi-Chorus.—

And thou, that returnest to earth,

For our lord’s delight, and this land’s,

Is there no light on thy brow,

No warmth in thy hands,

No gladness of heart, when thou hearest

The voice of our mirth?

2nd Semi-Chorus.—

Lo, robes for the bridal thou wearest,

Though a shroud was thy robe of late;

And home, O Beloved and fairest,

Thou comest, redeemed from Fate.

(A pause. Alcestis makes no response.)

1st Semi-Chorus.—

Ye say that the world is old:

But spring and the years are young,

And summer to earth gives joy.

Surely to man, not alone

For grief, hath this tale been told,

When the song of the bridal is sung

In the heart of maiden and boy?

Nurse.—

O women, speak to her! Let living fruit

Be on your tongues! These lips to me are mute,

And the eyes know me not!

Leader.—

How hath it come?

Nurse.—

Death’s hold is loosed; but mouth and heart stay dumb.

Lo, from the grave she looks, yet sees not life!

Leader.—

What woe thou tellest! Shall not the name of wife

Or mother move her?

Nurse.—

She hath heard them all:

And even as wind and water, or the call

Of lowing herds, the murmur of them goes by.

Semi-Chorus.—

I know a valley in the hills,

Where echoes in the rocks and rills

Make melody; and there the cry

Of flocks is heard; and clamorous lambs

Bleat and hearken for their dams.

Whom when they hear, from far or nigh,

Swiftly along the meads they leap,

To where the milky udders swell;

And stoop, and thrust, and, nuzzling deep,

Under the heavy fleeces creep.

Then for them the world is well.

Semi-Chorus.—

I know a pool

Of waters clear and deep,

With wood-boughs overhung

And mosses green;

There in the cool

At noon, when song-birds sleep,

Oft have I seen

The swan amid her young.

Leader.—

I know a bed

Fair-strewn with linen white,

Where in my sight

One that I loved lay dead.

Her hands and her feet were bound;

With myrtle her head we crowned;

Fair she lay as a bride,

And heeded us not.

Her children clung round her and cried;

And her lord, bewailing his lot,

Bowed down at her side:

And we wept, because she had died!

(Alcestis rises to her feet, and stands with half-lifted arms in an attitude of prayer.)

Nurse.—

Now thou hast touched her! Lo, the unlighted wick

Of life stands there revealed! Go, women, quick!

Bring in the children!

(Exit one of the attendants. Behind the scene the children’s voices are heard.)

Hark, ah, hark, they cry!—

Lady, thy little ones! Oh, Heaven must die

And perish away from earth, if thou stay dumb

Looking on these!

(Enter the two children; they run to Alcestis with outstretched arms.)

Children.—

Mother!

Nurse.—

Oh, come, come, come!

Yea, children! ’Tis your own, returned again!

Children.—

Mother! Oh, Mother!

(Alcestis stands as one hearing a far-off cry, whose sound she remembers.)

Nurse.—

Alas! Is that cry vain?

It shall not be! Leap, child, leap to her breast!

Take hold on her with hands, give her no rest,

Cry her to pity!

Children.—

Mother!

Nurse.—

Should this not be

A call to rouse the dead? She wakes! Oh, see!

Alcestis.—

These were my children.

Nurse.—

By the Gods, ’tis true:

They are thy children, lady! What wouldst thou do?

(Alcestis bends over her daughter with a strange look; she takes the child’s hair in her hands on each side lifting it, and begins plaiting it together.)

Oh, look, look, look!

Alcestis.—

And thou, also, must die

Some day, fair child, and in the grave must lie.

Hark, what I tell thee: do not rise again!

Quiet is that dwelling, and therein is no pain.

Nurse.—

What hast thou said? Is not this world more bright

Than that dim realm where man can see no light,

Nor hear no sound, nor feel no touch of hands?

Alcestis.—

Surely the light goes forth to many lands,

And seeth all things. Yet our lord, the Sun,

In heaven stands lonely, and is known of none.

Nurse.—

Yet was not great Apollo both guard and guide,

When to this palace thou camest as a bride?

And round thy chariot’s yoke such spells he cast

That lion and bear thereto stood harnessed fast.

Alcestis.—

I mind me of it. It was as thou hast said.

Therefore I came; and therefore hence went dead.

(The Nurse, turning away with a gesture of despondency, signs to an Attendant to remove the children.)

Nurse.—

Bear them away! For now I hear the voice

Of singers and of minstrels that rejoice

Because the bridegroom comes. Therefore be swift,

Bring and put on the wedding robe, and lift

Again to that fair head the bridal crown!

And thou, bright Hera, favourably look down

And bless for us this hour!

(She kneels at the feet of Alcestis.)

Oh, Mistress mine,

Surely thou knowest my heart was ever thine,

To do thee service for better and not for worse!

Alcestis.—

Yea, yea I know it! And yet thou wast my nurse!

(Stifling a sharp cry, the Nurse rises and moves away. Alcestis, robed and crowned, stands alone. The sound of music and singing draws nearer. A look of frozen horror comes over her.)

Nurse.—

Come then! for it is time: give me thy hand!

And if the Gods are gracious to this land,

Let them work wonders now!

(Exit Nurse leading Alcestis, followed by the attendant Women.)

Chorus.—

And turning my heart from sadness

I shall have done with fear,

When the sound of a people’s gladness

Grows loud in mine ear.

(The Women’s chorus goes out. Enter the Men’s Chorus.)