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Plays and Lyrics

Chapter 4: CHARACTERS
By Cale Young Rice
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About This Book

This collection features a previously unpublished play set in the sixteenth century on the island of Cyprus, alongside a variety of dramatic and non-dramatic lyrics. The play explores themes of love, loyalty, and the complexities of human relationships against a backdrop of historical and cultural tensions. The lyrics delve into emotional landscapes, reflecting on love, nature, and existential musings. The work is structured to showcase the author's best pieces, blending poetic expression with theatrical narrative, ultimately offering a rich tapestry of human experience and artistic exploration.

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Title: Plays and Lyrics

Author: Cale Young Rice

Release date: May 25, 2014 [eBook #45760]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Garcia and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS AND LYRICS ***

PLAYS
AND
 LYRICS

BY

CALE YOUNG RICE

LONDON

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

27 PATERNOSTER ROW

NEW YORK: MCCLURE PHILLIPS & CO.

44 EAST TWENTY-THIRD STREET

1906

UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED. PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON.

To

IDA M. TARBELL

WITH FAITHFUL FRIENDSHIP

PREFACE

This volume contains "Yolanda of Cyprus," a hitherto unpublished play; many new lyrics; some others that appeared in "Song-Surf," a volume whose publishers failed before it reached the public; and "David," which came out in America in 1904. The author's desire has been to include only his best work.

CONTENTS


 PAGE
YOLANDA OF CYPRUS 1


LYRICS—DRAMATIC:—
JAEL 91
MARY AT NAZARETH 96
OUTCAST 98
ADELIL 100
THE DYING POET 102
ON THE MOOR 105
HUMAN LOVE 107
O GO NOT OUT 108
CALL TO YOUR MATE, BOB-WHITE 110
TRANSCENDED 112
THE CRY OF EVE 113
THE CHILD GOD GAVE 116
MOTHER-LOVE 118
ASHORE 120
LOVE'S WAY TO CHILDHOOD 122
LISSETTE 123
TEARLESS 125
THE LIGHTHOUSEMAN 126
BY THE INDUS 128
FROM ONE BLIND 130
AT THE FALL OF ROME, A.D. 455 131
PEACELESS LOVE 133
SUNDERED 134
WITH OMAR 135
A JAPANESE MOTHER (IN TIME OF WAR) 144


LYRICS—NON-DRAMATIC:—
SHINTO (MIYAJIMA, JAPAN, 1905) 146
EVOCATION (NIKKO, JAPAN, 1905) 148
THE ATONER 150
INTIMATION 151
IN JULY 152
FROM ABOVE 154
SONGS TO A. H. R.:—
     I. THE WORLD'S AND MINE 155
    II. LOVE-CALL IN SPRING 156
   III. MATING 157
    IV. UNTOLD 158
     V. LOVE-WATCH 159
    VI. AS YOU ARE 160
   VII. AT AMALFI 161
  VIII. ON THE PACIFIC 163
THE WINDS 165
THE DAY-MOON 167
TO A SINGING WARBLER 169
TO THE SEA 170
THE DEAD GODS 172
AT WINTER'S END 175
APRIL 176
AUGUST GUESTS 177
AUTUMN 178
THE WORLD 179
TO THE DOVE 180
AT TINTERN ABBEY 182
THE VICTORY 184
SEARCHING DEATH'S DARK 185
SERENITY 187
TO THE SPRING WIND 188
THE RAMBLE 189
RETURN 192
THE EMPTY CROSS 194
SUNSET-LOVERS 196
TO A ROSE (IN A HOSPITAL) 198
UNBURTHENED 199
WHERE PEACE IS DUTY 201
WANTON JUNE 202
AUTUMN AT THE BRIDGE 204
SONG 205
TO HER WHO SHALL COME 206
AVOWAL TO THE NIGHTINGALE 208
STORM-EBB 210
SLAVES 212
WAKING 213
FAUN-CALL 214
LINGERING 216
STORM-TWILIGHT 217
WILDNESS 218
BEFORE AUTUMN 219
FULFILMENT 221
TO THE FALLEN LEAVES 223
MAYA (HIROSHIMO, JAPAN, 1905) 224
SPIRIT OF RAIN (MIANOSHITA, JAPAN, 1905) 226
THE NYMPH AND THE GOD 227
A SEA-GHOST 228
LAST SIGHT OF LAND 230
SILENCE 231


DAVID 233

YOLANDA OF CYPRUS

CHARACTERS

Renier Lusignan A descendant of the Lusignan kings of Cyprus.
Berengere His wife.
Amaury His Son, Commander of Famagouste under the Venetians.
Yolanda The Ward of Berengere, betrothed to Amaury.
Camarin A Baron of Paphos, guest in the Lusignan Castle.
Vittia Pisani A Venetian Lady, also a guest.
Moro A Priest.
Hassan Warden of the Castle.
Halil His Son, a boy.
Tremitus A Physician.
Olympio A Greek boy, serving Amaury.
Alessa Berengere's Women.
Maga
Civa
Mauria
Smarda Slave to Vittia.
Pietro In Vittia's pay.
  Priests, acolytes, etc.
  Time—The sixteenth century.
  Place—The island of Cyprus.

ACT I

Scene: A dim Hall, of blended Gothic and Saracenic styles, in the Lusignan Castle, on the island of Cyprus near Famagouste. Around the walls, above faint frescoes portraying the deliverance of Jerusalem by the Crusaders, runs a frieze inlaid with the coats-of-arms of former Lusignan kings. On the left, and back, is a door hung with heavy damask, and in the wall opposite, another. Farther down on the right a few steps, whose railing supports a Greek vase with jasmine, lead through a chapel to the sleeping apartments. In the rear, on either side, are guled lattice windows, and in the centre an open grated door, looking upon a loggia, and, across the garden below, over the moonlit sea. Seats are placed about, and, forward, a divan with rich Turkish coverings. A table with a lighted cross-shaped candlestick is by the door, left; and a lectern with a book on it, to the front, right. As the curtain rises, the Women, except Civa, lean wearily on the divan, and Halil near is singing dreamily,

Ah, the balm, the balm,
 And ah, the blessing
 Of the deep fall of night
 And of confessing.
 Of the sick soul made white
 Of all distressing:
 Made white!...
 Ah, balm of night
 And, ah the blessing!

The music falls and all seem yielding to sleep. Suddenly there are hoof-beats and sounds at the gates below. Halil springs up.

Halil. Alessa! Maga! Stirrings at the gates!

(All start up.)

Some one is come.
Alessa. Boy, Halil, who?
Halil. Up, up!
 Perhaps Lord Renier—No: I will learn.

(He runs to curtains and looks.)

It is Olympio! Olympio!
 From Famagouste and Lord Amaury!
Mauria. Ah!
 And he comes here?
Halil. As he were lord of skies!
 To lady Yolanda, by my lute!
Maga. Where is she?
Alessa. I do not know; perhaps, her chamber.
Mauria. Stay:
 His word may be of the Saracens.
Halil (calling). Oho!

(He admits Olympio, who enters insolently down. All press around him gaily.)

Mauria. Well what, Olympio, from Famagouste?
 What tidings? tell us.
Maga. See, his sword!
Olympio. Stand off.
Mauria. The tidings, then, the tidings!
Olympio. None—for women.
Mauria. So, so, my Cupid? None of the Saracens?
 Of the squadron huddling yesterday for haven
 At Keryneia?
Olympio. Who has told you?
Mauria. Who?
 A hundred galleys westing up the wind,
 Scenting the shore, but timorous as hounds.
 A gale—and twenty down!
Maga. The rest are flown?
Olympio. Ask Zeus, or ask, to-morrow, lord Amaury,
 Or, if he comes, to-night. To lady Yolanda
 I'm sent and not to tattle silly here.

(He starts off, but is arrested by laughter within. It is Civa who enters, holding up a parchment.)

O! Only Civa. (Starts again with Halil.)
Civa. How, Olympio!
 Stay you, and hear!—May never virgin love him!
 Gone as a thistle! (Turns.)
Mauria. Pouf!
Alessa (to Civa). Now, what have you?
Civa. Verses! found in the garden. Verses! verses!
 On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read!
 But you, Alessa—!
Alessa (takes them). In the garden?
Civa. By
 The fountain cypress at the marble feet
 Of chaste Diana!
Maga. Where Sir Camarin
 And oft our lady—!
Civa. Maga will you prattle?
 Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read.
 They are of love!
Maga. No, sorrow.
Civa. O, as a nun
 You ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love!
 Of valour bursting through enchanted bounds
 To ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep!
 Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love!
Maga. No, Civa, no! of sorrow! see, her lips!

(She points to Alessa, who, reading, has paled.)

See, see!
Civa. Alessa!
Alessa. Maga—Civa—Ah!

(She rends the parchment.)

Mauria. What are you doing?
Alessa. They were writ to her!
Mauria. To her? to whom? what are you saying? Read!
 Read us the verses.
Alessa. No.
Mauria. Tell then his name
 Who writes them, and to whom.
Alessa. I will not.
Mauria. Then
 It is some guilt you hide!—And touching her
 You dote on—lady Yolanda!
Alessa. Shame!
Mauria. Some guilt
 Of one, then, in this castle!—See, her lips
 Betray it is.
Maga. No, Mauria! no! (holds her) hush!

(Forms appear without.)

Mauria. O, loose me.
Maga. There, on the loggia! Hush, see—
 Our lady and Sir Camarin.
Alessa (fearful). It is....
 They heard us, Maga?
Maga. No, but——
Mauria (to Alessa). So? that mouse?
Alessa. You know not, Mauria, what 'tis you say.

(Berengere coldly, as if consenting to it, enters.)

She is seeking us; be still.
 (Stepping out.) My lady?
Berengere. Yes.
 Your lamps; for it is time
 Now for your aves and o'erneeded sleep.
 But first I'd know if yet Lord Renier——

(Sees their disquiet—starts.)

Why are you pale?
Alessa. I?
Berengere. So—and strange.
Alessa. We have
 But put away the distaff and the needle.

(Camarin enters.)

Berengere. The distaff and the needle—it may be.
 And yet you do not seem——
Alessa. My lady—?
Berengere. Go;
 And send me Hassan.

(The women leave.)

Camarin—you saw?
 They were not as their wont is.
Camarin. To your eyes,
 My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.
 They were as ever. Then be done with fear!
Berengere. I cannot.
Camarin. To the abyss with it. To-night
 Is ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—
 Is ours for love and for a long delight!
Berengere. Whose end may be—
Camarin. Dawn and the dewy lark!
 And passing of all presage from you.
Berengere (sits). No:
 For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress
 We read the verses! And my dream that I
 Should with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—
 Bring her deep bitterness.
Camarin. Dreams are a brood
 Born of the night and not of destiny.
 She guesses not our guilt, and Renier
 Clasps to his breast ambition as a bride—
 Ambition for Amaury.
Berengere. None can say.
 He's much with this Venetian, our guest.
 Though Venice gyves us more with tyranny
 Than would the Saracen.
Camarin. But through this lady
 Of the Pisani, powerful in Venice,
 He hopes to lift again his dynasty
 Up from decay; and to restore this island,
 This venture-dream of the seas, unto his house.
 'Tis clear, my Berengere!
Berengere. Then, her design?
 And what the requital that entices her?

(Rises.)

Evil will come of it, to us some evil,
 Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.
 But, there; the women.
Camarin. And too brief their stay.
 What signal for to-night?
Berengere. Be in the garden.
 Over the threshold yonder I will wave
 The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.
Camarin. And with the beam I shall mount up to you
 Quicker than ecstasy.
Berengere. I am as a leaf
 Before the wind and raging of your love.
 Go—go.
Camarin. But to return unto your breast!

(He leaves her by the divan.)

(The women re-enter with silver lighted lamps; behind them are Hassan and the slave Smarda. They wait for Berengere, who has stood silent, to speak.)

Berengere (looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.
 And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:
 Close them.
Hassan. And chain them, lady?
Berengere. Wait no longer.
 Lord Renier will not come.
Hassan. No word of him?
Berengere. None, though he yesterday left Nicosie
 With the priest Moro.
Hassan. Lady—
Berengere. Wait no longer.
 Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.

(The women go by the steps. Berengere follows.)

Hassan (staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? The reason?
 Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps
 In secret; all for what?—unless because
 Of the Paphian—or this Venetian.
 (Seeing Smarda.) Now,
 Slave! Scythian! You linger?
Smarda. I am bidden—
 My mistress.
Hassan. Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,
 Something of hell in her and has unpacked
 A portion in this castle. Is it so?
Smarda. My lady is of Venice.
Hassan. Strike her, God.
 Her smirk admits it.
Smarda. Touch me not!
Hassan. I'll wring
 Thy tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.
 What of thy lady and Lord Renier?
Smarda. Off!

(Renier enters behind, with Moro.)

Hassan. Thy lady and Lord Renier, I say!
 What do they purpose?
Smarda. Fool-born! look around.
Hassan. Not till——
Smarda. Lord Renier, help.
Hassan. What do you say?

(Turns, and stares amazed.)

A fool I am....
Renier. Where is my wife?
Hassan. Why, she....
 This slave stung me to pry.
Renier. Where is my wife?
Hassan. A moment since, was here—the women with her.
 She asked for your return.
Renier. And wherefore did?
Hassan. You jeer me.
Renier. Answer.
Hassan. Have you not been gone?
Renier. Not—overfar. Where is Yolanda?—Well?
 No matter; find my chamber till I come.
 Of my arrival, too, no word to any.

(Hassan goes, confused.)

You, Moro, have deferred me; now, no more.
 Whether it is suspicion eats in me,
 Mistrust and fret and doubt—of whom I say not,
 Or whether desire and unsubduable
 To see Amaury sceptred—I care not.

(To Smarda.)

Slave, to your lady who awaits me, say
 I'm here and now have chosen.
Moro. Do not!
Renier. Chosen.

(Smarda goes.)

None can be great who will not hush his heart
 To hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.
 He is Lusignan and his lineage
 Will drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.
Moro. It will not.
Renier. Then at least I shall uncover
 What this Venetian hints.
Moro. Hints?
Renier. I must know.
Moro. 'Tis of your wife?—Yolanda?
Renier. Name them not.
 They've shut from me their souls.
Moro. My lord, not so;
 But you repulse them.
Renier. When they pity. No,
 Something has gone from me or never was
 Within my breast. I love not—am unlovable.
 Amaury is not so,
 And this Venetian Vittia Pisani——
Moro. Distrust her!
Renier. She has power.
Moro. But not truth.
 And yesterday a holy relic scorned.
Renier. She loves Amaury. Wed to her he will
 Be the elected Governor of Cyprus.
 The throne, then, but a step.
Moro. But all too great.
 And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:
 He will not yield her.
Renier. Then he must. And she,
 The Venetian, has ways to it—a secret
 To pierce her from his arms.
Moro. Sir, sir?—of what?
Renier. I know not, of some shame.
Moro. Shame!
Renier. Why do you clutch me?
Moro. I—am a priest—and shame——
Renier. You have suspicion?

(Vittia enters unnoted.)

Of whom?—Of whom, and what?
Vittia (lightly). My lord, of women.

(Renier starts and turns.)

So does the Holy Church instill him.
Renier. You
 Come softly, lady of Venice.
Vittia. Streets of sea
 In Venice teach us.
Renier. Of what women, then?
 My wife? Yolanda?
Vittia. By the freedom due us,
 What matters it? In Venice our lords know
 That beauty has no master.
Renier. Has no.... That,
 That too has something hid.
Vittia. Suspicious lord!
 Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife!
 And soon Yolanda—But for that I'm here.
 You sent for me.
Renier (sullen). I sent.
Vittia. To say you've chosen?
 And offer me irrevocable aid
 To win Amaury?
Renier. All is vain in me
 Before the fever for it.
Vittia. Then, I shall.
 It must be done. My want is unafraid.
 Hourly I am expecting out of Venice
 Letters of power.
 And what to you I pledge is he shall be
 Ruler of Cyprus and these Mediterranean
 Blue seas that rock ever against its coast.
 That do I pledge ... but more.
Renier. Of rule?... Then what?
Vittia (going up to him). Of shame withheld—dishonour unrevealed.

(He half recoils and stands. Smarda enters hastily to them.)