A Select Collection of Old English Plays. Группа авторов

all points ready for the execution of Pithias.

      Need hath no law: will[137] I or nil I, it must be done,

      But lo, the bloody minister is even here at hand.

      Enter Gronno.

      Gronno, I came hither now to understand,

      If all things are well appointed for the execution of Pithias.

      The king himself will see it done here in this place.

      Gronno. Sir, all things are ready, here is the place, here is the hand, here is the sword:

      Here lacketh none but Pithias, whose head at a word,

      If he were present, I could finely strike off—

      You may report that all things are ready.

      Eubulus. I go with an heavy heart to report it. Ah woful Pithias!

      Full near now is thy misery.

      [Exit.

      Gronno. I marvel very much, under what constellation

      All hangmen are born, for they are hated of all, beloved of none:

      Which hatred is showed by this point evidently:

      The hangman always dwells in the vilest place of the city.

      That such spite should be, I know no cause why,

      Unless it be for their office’s sake, which is cruel and bloody.

      Yet some men must do it to execute laws.

      Me-think they hate me without any just cause.

      But I must look to my toil; Pithias must lose his head at one blow,

      Else the boys will stone me to death in the street, as I go.

      But hark, the prisoner cometh, and the king also:

      I see there is no help, Pithias his life must forego.

      Here entereth Dionysius and Eubulus.

      Dionysius. Bring forth Pithias, that pleasant companion,

      Which took me at my word, and became pledge for Damon.

      It pricketh[138] fast upon noon, I do him no injury,

      If now he lose his head, for so he requested me,

      If Damon return not, which now in Greece is full merry:

      Therefore shall Pithias pay his death, and that by and by.

      He thought belike, if Damon were out of the city,

      I would not put him to death for some foolish pity:

      But seeing it was his request, I will not be mock’d, he shall die;

      Bring him forth.

      Here entereth Snap.[139]

      Snap. Give place; let the prisoner come by; give place.

      Dionysius. How say you, sir; where is Damon, your trusty friend?

      You have play’d a wise part, I make God a vow:

      You know what time a day it is; make you ready.

      Pithias. Most ready I am, mighty king, and most ready also

      For my true friend Damon this life to forego,

      Even at your pleasure.

      Dionysius. A true friend! a false traitor, that so breaketh his oath!

      Thou shalt lose thy life, though thou be never so loth.

      Pithias. I am not loth to do whatsoever I said,

      Ne at this present pinch of death am I dismay’d:

      The gods now I know have heard my fervent prayer,

      That they have reserved me to this passing great honour,

      To die for my friend, whose faith even now I do not mistrust;

      My friend Damon is no false traitor, he is true and just:

      But sith he is no god, but a man, he must do as he may,

      The wind may be contrary, sickness may let him,[140] or some misadventure by the way,

      Which the eternal gods turn all to my glory,

      That fame may resound how Pithias for Damon did die:

      He breaketh no oath which doth as much as he can,

      His mind is here, he hath some let, he is but a man.

      That he might not return of all the gods I did require,

      Which now to my joy do[141] grant my desire.

      But why do I stay any longer, seeing that one man’s death

      May suffice, O king, to pacify thy wrath?

      O thou minister of justice, do thine office by and by,

      Let not thy hand tremble, for I tremble not to die.

      Stephano, the right pattern of true fidelity,

      Commend me to thy master, my sweet Damon, and of him crave liberty

      When I am dead, in my name; for thy trusty services

      Hath well deserved a gift far better than this.

      O my Damon, farewell now for ever, a true friend, to me most dear;

      Whiles life doth last, my mouth shall still talk of thee,

      And when I am dead, my simple ghost, true witness of amity,

      Shall hover about the place, wheresoever thou be.

      Dionysius. Eubulus, this gear is strange; and yet because

      Damon hath fals’d his faith, Pithias shall have the law.

      Gronno, despoil him, and eke dispatch him quickly.

      Gronno. It shall be done; since you came into this place,

      I might have stroken off seven heads in this space.

      By’r Lady, here are good garments, these are mine, by the rood!

      It is an evil wind that bloweth no man good.

      Now, Pithias, kneel down, ask me blessing like a pretty boy,

      And with a trice thy head from thy shoulders I will convey.

      Here entereth Damon running, and stays the sword.