The Wonder-Working Magician | Page 5

Lelius.
MOSCON, Servant of Cyprian.

CLARIN, Servant of Cyprian.
THE GOVERNOR OF ANTIOCH.

FABIUS, his Servant.
LYSANDER, the reputed Father of Justina.

JUSTINA.
LIVIA, her Maid.
A Servant.
A Soldier.

ATTENDANTS, Soldiers, People.

SCENE -- Antioch and its environs.
THE WONDER-WORKING MAGICIAN.

ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
A WOOD NEAR ANTIOCH.
Enter CYPPRIAN in a Student's gown, followed by CLARIN and
MOSCON, as poor Scholars, carrying books.
CYPRIAN. In the pleasant solitude
Of this tranquil spot, this thicket

Formed of interlacing boughs,
Buds, and flowers, and shrubs

commingled,
You may leave me, leaving also,
As my best
companions, with me,
(For I need none else) those books
Which I
bad you to bring hither
From the house; for while, to-day,
Antioch,
the mighty city,
Celebrates with such rejoicing
The great temple
newly finished
Unto Jupiter, the bearing
Thither, also, of his image

Publicly, in grant procession,
To its shrine to be uplifted;--
I,
escaping the confusion
Of the streets and squares, have flitted

Hitherward, to spend in study
What of daylight yet may glimmer.

Go, enjoy the festival,
Go to Antioch and mingle
In its various
sports, returning
When the sun descending sinketh
To be buried in
the waves,
Which, beneath the dark clouds' fringes,
Round the royal
corse of gold,
Shine like sepulchres of silver.
Here you'll find me.
MOSCON. Sir, although
Most decidedly my wish is
To behold the
sports, yet I
Cannot go without a whisper
Of some few five
thousand words,
Which I'll give you in a jiffy.
Can it be that on a
day
Of such free, such unrestricted
Revelry, and mirth, and fun,

You with your old books come hither
To this country place, rejecting

All the frolic of the city?
CLARIN. Well, I think my master's right;
For there's nothing more
insipid
Than a grand procession day,
Half fandangos, priests, and
fiddles.
MOSCON. Clarin, from the first to last,
All your life you've been a
trickster,
A smart temporizing toady,

A bold flatterer, a trimmer,

Since you praise the thoughts of others,
And ne'er speak your own.
CLARIN. The civil
Way to tell a man he lies
Is to say he's wrong:--
you twig me,
Now I think I speak my mind.
CYPRIAN. Moscon, Clarin, both I bid ye
Cease this silly altercation.

It is ever thus betwixt ye,
Puffed up with your little knowledge

Each maintains his own opinion.
Go, and (as I've said) here seek me


When night falls, and with the thickness
Of its shadows veils from
view
This most fair and wondrous system
Of the universe.
MOSCON. How comes it,
That although you have admitted
'Tis not
right to see the feast,
Yet you go to see it?
CLARIN. Simple
Is the answer: no one follows
The advice which
he has given
To another.
MOSCON [aside]. To see Livia,
Would the gods that I were winged.

[Exit.
CLARIN [aside]. If the honest truth were told
Livia is the girl that
gives me
Something worth the living for.
Even her very name has
in it
This assurance: 'Livia', yes,
Minus 'a', I live for 'Livi'.*
[Exit.
[footnote] *This, of course, is a paraphrase of the original, which,
perhaps, may be given as an explanation.
"Ilega, 'Livia'.
Al 'na', y se, Livia, 'liviana'."

SCENE II.
CYPRIAN. Now I am alone, and may,
If my mind can be so lifted,

Study the great problem which
Keeps my soul disturbed, bewilder'd,

Since I read in Pliny's page
The mysterious words there written.

Which define a god; because
It doth seem beyond the limits
Of my
intellect to find
One who all these signs exhibits.
This mysterious
hidden truth
Must I seek for.
[Reads.

SCENE III.
Enter the DEMON, in gala dress. CYPRIAN.

DEMON [aside]. Though thou givest
All thy thoughts to the research,

Cyprian, thou must ever miss it,
Since I'll hide it from thy mind.
CYPRIAN. There's a rustling in this thicket.
Who is there? who art
thou?
DEMON. Sir,
A mere stranger, who has ridden
All this morning up
and down
These dark groves, not knowing whither,
Having lost my
way, my horse,
To the emerald that encircles,
With a tapestry of
green,
These lone hills, I've loosed, it gives him
At the same time
food and rest.
I'm to Antioch bound, on business
Of importance, my
companions
I have parted from; through listless
Lapse of thought (a
thing that happens
To the most of earthly pilgrims),
I have lost my
way, and lost
Comrades, servants, and assistants.
CYPRIAN. I am much surprised to learn
That in view of the uplifted

Towers of Antioch, you thus
Lost your way. There's not a single

Path that on this mountain side,
More or less by feet imprinted,
But
doth lead unto its walls,
As to its one central limit.
By whatever
path you take,
You'll go right.
DEMON. It is an instance
Of that ignorance which in sight
Even of
truth the true goal misses.
And as it appears not wise
Thus to enter
a strange city
Unattended and unknown,
Asking even my way, 'tis
fitter
That 'till night doth conquer day,
Here while light doth last, to
linger;
By your dress and by these books
Round you, like a learned
circle
Of wise friends, I see you are
A great student, and the instinct


Of my soul doth ever draw me
Unto men to books addicted.
CYPRIAN. Have you studied much?
DEMON. Well, no;
But I've knowledge quite sufficient
Not to be
deemed ignorant.
CYPRIAN. Then, what sciences know you?

DEMON. Many.
CYPRIAN. Why, we cannot reach even one
After years of studious
vigil,
And can you (what vanity!)
Without study know so many?