Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4Bridges, Robert
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Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Tel._ Come forth in turn then, and assay the bow.
I think Zeus robs me of my wits.—I laugh:
’Tis true I laugh.—Ye understand, my lords,
My wise and honoured mother hath declared
That she will wed a stranger, and go forth 2410
And leave this house:—and I laugh and am glad!
Come then, I say; seeing this is the prize,
A lady without rival in the land;
What say I? Not in all the Achæan lands,
In sacred Pylos, Argos, or Mycenæ,
Or elsewhere. But ye know this, and indeed
Why should I praise my mother? Come, I call you;
Come forth, assay the bow. Who cometh first?
Why, now I see I am a fool; myself,
Why not myself? If I should string it best, 2420
And easiest, and shoot truest at the mark,
Then I reserve the prize: my lady mother
Will never quit these halls. Yes, and I think
I have some phantom of my father’s strength.—
_Eur._ Nay, prince, this was not bargained.
_Ant._ Let him try.
_Tel._ It bends, it yields; but what you say is just;
’Tis not for me. Ye be the mighty men:
I hand it you.
_Eur._ Rise each in turn,
As the wine circles. First is Sir Leiodes,
The soothsayer.
LEIODES.
Give it me.
_Eum._ Sir, mayst thou fail. 2430
_Leiod._ Curse on thy tongue. I asked not thy goodwill.
_Tel._ (_aside to Eum._). I need thy aid without: thou and the neatherd
Follow me thro’ the postern: let none see you.
_Some wooers rise from their seats. Tel., Eum., and neatherd go out by
the postern door_ R.
_Leiod._ I cannot bend it: ’tis a deadly bow.
Ay, if I ever have spoken sooth, to-day
My spirit is true. This is no marrying bow.
’Twill prove our shame and death. Another take it.
I have done with it. We have all along been fooled;
Now more than ever. But if any yet
Hope for the lady, let him try the bow, 2440
And then go woo another.
_Ant._ Think not, sir,
Because thy hands are white and delicate,
There be no men of sinew.
_Eur._ Peace, my lords!
_A suitor._ ’Tis stiff and dry with age. Bring me some oil:
If it be rubbed therewith and warmed the while,
’Twill ease it mightily.
_Ant._ Ay, do ye so.
[_They take it to the fire._
CHORUS—_Wooers_ (_inter se_).
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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