A Florentine Tragedy; La Sainte CourtisaneWilde, Oscar
General
A Florentine Tragedy; La Sainte Courtisane
Wilde, Oscar
Drama
FIRST MAN. Every evening we bring him food. We do not think that the
birds of the air feed him.
MYRRHINA. Why do ye feed him? What profit have ye in so doing?
SECOND MAN. He is a very holy man. One of the gods whom he has offended
has made him mad. We think he has offended the moon.
MYRRHINA. Go and tell him that one who has come from Alexandria desires
to speak with him.
FIRST MAN. We dare not tell him. This hour he is praying to his God.
We pray thee to pardon us for not doing thy bidding.
MYRRHINA. Are ye afraid, of him?
FIRST MAN. We are afraid of him.
MYRRHINA. Why are ye afraid of him?
FIRST MAN. We do not know.
MYRRHINA. What is his name?
FIRST MAN. The voice that speaks to him at night time in the cavern
calls to him by the name of Honorius. It was also by the name of
Honorius that the three lepers who passed by once called to him. We
think that his name is Honorius.
MYRRHINA. Why did the three lepers call to him?
FIRST MAN. That he might heal them.
MYRRHINA. Did he heal them?
SECOND MAN. No. They had committed some sin: it was for that reason
they were lepers. Their hands and faces were like salt. One of them
wore a mask of linen. He was a king’s son.
MYRRHINA. What is the voice that speaks to him at night time in his
cave?
FIRST MAN. We do not know whose voice it is. We think it is the voice
of his God. For we have seen no man enter his cavern nor any come forth
from it.
. . . . .
MYRRHINA. Honorius.
HONORIUS (_from within_). Who calls Honorius?
MYRRHINA. Come forth, Honorius.
. . . . .
My chamber is ceiled with cedar and odorous with myrrh. The pillars of
my bed are of cedar and the hangings are of purple. My bed is strewn
with purple and the steps are of silver. The hangings are sewn with
silver pomegranates and the steps that are of silver are strewn with
saffron and with myrrh. My lovers hang garlands round the pillars of my
house. At night time they come with the flute players and the players of
the harp. They woo me with apples and on the pavement of my courtyard
they write my name in wine.
From the uttermost parts of the world my lovers come to me. The kings of
the earth come to me and bring me presents.
When the Emperor of Byzantium heard of me he left his porphyry chamber
and set sail in his galleys. His slaves bare no torches that none might
know of his coming. When the King of Cyprus heard of me he sent me
ambassadors. The two Kings of Libya who are brothers brought me gifts of
amber.
I took the minion of Cæsar from Cæsar and made him my playfellow. He
came to me at night in a litter. He was pale as a narcissus, and his
body was like honey.
The son of the Præfect slew himself in my honour, and the Tetrarch of
Cilicia scourged himself for my pleasure before my slaves.
The King of Hierapolis who is a priest and a robber set carpets for me to
walk on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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