Ptol. No more of business.
Sosib. Sir, the council waits you.
Ptol. Council! What's that? a pack of bearded slaves,
Grave faces, saucy tongues, and knavish hearts,
That never speak one word, but self's at bottom;
The scavengers that sweep state nuisances,
And are themselves the greatest—I'll no council.
Sosib. Remember, you appointed them this day.
Ptol. I had forgot 'twas my Cassandra's birth-day.
Sosib. Your brother Magas grows more dangerous daily,
And has the soldiers' hearts.
Ptol. I'll cut him off.
Sosib. Not so soon done as said. The Spartan king
Was summoned for advice, and waits without.
Ptol. His business is to wait.
Sosib. Be pleased to sign these papers; they are all
Of great concern.
Ptol. My pleasure is of more.—
How could I curse my name of Ptolemy!
For 'tis so long, it asks an hour to write it.
By Heaven, I'll change it into Jove or Mars,
Or any other civil monosyllable,
That will not tire my hand.
Sosib. These are for common good. [Shewing papers.
Ptol. I am glad of that;
Those shall be sure to wait.
Sosib. Orders to pay the soldiers, ripe for mutiny;
They may revolt.
Ptol. To whom?
Sosib. The man you fear,—
Your brother Magas.
Ptol. That's indeed the danger.
Give me the physic; let me swallow quick.—
There's Ptolemy for that: Now, not one more,
For every minute I expect Cassandra
To call me to the music.
If she should find me at this rare employment,
Of signing out her treasures!
Sosib. The rest are only grants to her you love,
And places for her friends.
Ptol. I'll sign them all, were every one a province.
Thou know'st her humour, not to brook denial;
And then a quarrel on her birth-day too
Would be of ill presage. [Signs more papers.
Enter Cassandra and Women.
Cas. I heard you waited; but you'll pardon me,
I was no sooner dressed.
Ptol. Thus I begin my homage to the day [Kisses her hand.
That brought me forth a mistress; and am proud
To be your foremost slave.
Cas. Our little entertainment waits; not worth
A longer ceremony; please to grace it?

The Scene opens, and discovers Cassandra's Apartment. Musicians and Dancers. Ptolemy leads in Cassandra; Sosibius follows—They sit. Towards the end of the song and dance, enter Cleomenes and Cleanthes on one side of the stage, where they stand.

SONG.

No, no, poor suffering heart, no change endeavour,
Chuse to sustain the smart, rather than leave her;
My ravished eyes behold such charms about her,
I can die with her, but not live without her;
One tender sigh of hers to see me languish,
Will more than pay the price of my past anguish:
Beware, O cruel fair, how you smile on me,
'Twas a kind look of yours, that has undone me.
Love has in store for me one happy minute,
And she will end my pain, who did begin it;
Then no day void of bliss, of pleasure, leaving,
Ages shall slide away without perceiving:
Cupid shall guard the door, the more to please us,
And keep out Time and Death, when they would seize us:
Time and Death shall depart, and say, in flying,
Love has found out a way to live by dying.
Cleom. [To Clean.] Is this the council of the Egyptian king?
And am I called upon the grave debate,
To judge of trilling notes, and tripping feet?
Clean. 'Tis of a piece with all the rest of Ptolemy;
A singing and a dancing government.—
O Egypt, Egypt! thou art grown the lees
Of all the world; the slime of thy own Nile.
Sure we had neither human sires, nor mothers;
The sun and Nile begot us: We're so cowardly,
And yet so proud; so many gods we have.
And yet not one!—
Cleom. No more:—they seem to gaze on me with wonder.
Clean. And well they may, to see a man in Egypt.
[King, Cassandra, and Sosibius, rise and come forward.
Ptol. Welcome, royal stranger!
Not only to my court, but to my bosom.
Cleom. I heard you sent for me; but on what business
Am yet to learn.
Ptol. The greatest in the world: to see the man,
Whom even his foes extol, his friends adore,
And all mankind admire.
Cleom. Say rather, sir,
A man forsaken of his better stars,
A banished prince, the shadow of a king.
Ptol. My father's friend.
Cleom. I must not think so vainly of myself,
To be what you have said; lest it upbraid you,
To let your father's friend for three long months
Thus dance attendance for a word of audience.
Cas. Now, by my soul, 'tis nobly urged: He speaks
As if he were in Sparta, on his throne;
Not asking aid, but granting.
How little looks our pageant prince to him!
This is the only king I ever saw. [Aside.
Cleom. By all the gods, when I have stood repulsed,
Before your gates, and could not gain admittance,
I have not sighed so much for my own sorrows,
As I have blushed for your ungenerous usage.
Clean. Not a word, Ptolemy?—
Ashamed, by all that's good, to be miscalled
A king, when this is present. [Aside.
Cleom. Think you 'tis nothing
For me to beg; that I constrain my temper
To sue for aid, which you should first have offered?
Believe me, Ptolemy, a noble soul
Does much, that asks: He gives you power to oblige him.
Know, sir, there's a proud modesty in merit,
Averse from begging; and resolved to pay
Ten times the gift it asks.
Ptol. I have been to blame;
And you have justly taxed my long neglect.
I am young, and am a lover; and how far
Fair eyes may make even kings forgetful, look,
And read my best excuse.
Clean. O miracle! He blushes!
The first red virtue I have ever seen
Upon that face. [Aside.
Cas. I am sorry, sir, you've made me your excuse;
As if I stood betwixt the good you meant,
And intercepted every royal grace.
Now, in my own defence, I must solicit
All his concerns, as mine:
And if my eyes have power, he should not sue
In vain, nor linger with a long delay.
Ptol. Well! I'll consider.
Cas. Say that word again,
And I'll consider too.
Ptol. Pr'ythee be satisfied; he shall be aided,
Or I'll no more be king.
Clean. When wert thou one!—For shame, for shame, ye gods,
That e'er you put it in a strumpet's power,
To do so good a deed! [Aside.
Cleom. I am a Spartan, madam, scarce of words;
We have but just enough to speak our meaning.
Be thanked; that's all I could have said to Jove,
Had Jove, like you, restored me to my crown.
Sosib. [To Cleom.] The gods have given you, sir, the speedy means
To satisfy your debt of gratitude.
Cleom. Oh, make me happy! tell me how this sword
(This and my heart are all that's left me now)
Can be employed to serve the crown of Egypt.
Clean. Well said, father; thou art a true statesman.
So much for so much is the way at court. [Aside.
Sosib. My king has in the camp a younger brother,
Valiant, they say, but very popular;
He gets too far into the soldiers' grace,
And inches out my master.
Cleom. Is the king
Assured of this, by any overt-act,
Or any close conspiracy revealed?
Ptol. He has it in his power to be a traitor;
And that's enough.
Sosib. He has it in his will too;
Else, why this ostentation of his virtues,
His bounty, valour, and his temperance?
Why are they thus exposed to public view,
But as a Venus set beside a monster,
To make an odious comparison;
As if his brother wanted what he boasts?
Ptol. What's to be done with him?
Cas. There needs no more, I think, but to contrive,
With secrecy, and safety, to dispatch him.
Clean. I thank thee, that thou hast not cozened me
In this advice; for two good deeds together
Had been too much in conscience for thy calling. [Aside.
Ptol. He dies, that's out of doubt.
Cleom. Your brother, sir!
Ptol. Why do you ask that question?
Cleom. Because I had a brother,
(Oh grief to say I had, and have not now!)
Wise, valiant, temperate; and, in short, a Spartan;
Had all the virtues, which your counsellor
Imputed to your brother as his crimes.
He loved me well; so well, he could but die,
To shew he loved me better than his life.
He lost it for me in Sellasia's field;
And went the greatest ghost of all our name,
That ever had a brother, or a king[42].
Sosib. Wipe off the tears that stand upon your eyes;
Good nature works too far. Kings have no brothers,
What men call such, are rivals of their crowns;
Yours timed his death, so as to merit grief.
Who knows, but he laid in, by that last action,
The means to have betrayed you, had he lived?
Cleom. I would say something; but I curb my passion,
Because thou art the father to my friend—
To you, sir, this: If you condemn your brother, [To Ptol.
Only because he's bounteous, great, and brave,—
Know, you condemn those virtues, own you want them.
Had you a thousand brothers, such as he,
You ought to shew you are above them all,
By daring to reward, and cherish them,
As bucklers of your crown in time of war,
And in soft peace, the jewels that adorn it.
Cas. I stand corrected, sir; he ought to live.
Ptol. I think so too.
Sosib. I do not wish his death,
Howe'er I seemed to give that rugged counsel.
Clean. Well said again, father! Comply, comply;
Follow the sun, true shadow. [Aside.
Sosib. I only wish my master may be safe;
But there are mercenaries in the army,
Three thousand Greeks, the flower of all our troops,
Like wolves indeed among Egyptian lambs;
If these revolt—(I do not say they will)
But if your brother please to take the crown,
And be not good enough to let you reign,
Those Greeks, where'er they go, will turn the scale.
Ptol. What think you, Cleomenes?
Cleom. He says true.
Ptol. Then Magas must not live.
Cleom. That does not follow.
Fear not those mercenaries: they are mine,
Devoted to my interest, commanded by my nod:
They are my limbs of war, and I their soul.
Were they in arms against you at your gates,
High in their rage, and fixed upon the spoil,
Should I say,—Hold!—nay, should I only frown,
They could not bear my eyes; but, awed and mastered,
Like lions to their keepers, would couch and fawn,
And disobey their hunger.
Ptol. Wondrous man! [Embraces him.
How I admire thy virtue!
Cas. And his genius.
Some are born kings,
Made up of three parts fire, so full of heaven,
It sparkles at their eyes. Inferior souls
Know them as soon as seen, by sure instinct,
To be their lords, and naturally worship
The secret god within them.
Sosib. Sir, I humbly beg
A word in private. [To Ptol.
Ptol. Madam?—
Cas. You may go.
Sosib. Cleanthes, follow me.
[Exeunt Ptol. Sosib. Clean.
Enter Cleonidas.
Cleon. Pantheus brought me hither to attend you.
Cleom. And thou art welcome; but thou comest too late.
Cas. Your page of honour?
Cleon. The mistake is easy in such a court as this,
Where princes look like pages.
Cleom. 'Tis my son.
Cas. I must have leave to love you, royal youth;
Above all nations I adore a Greek,
And of all Greeks a Spartan. [Looking on Cleom.
Cleom. What he is,
And what I am, are owing to your favour.
Cas. [To Cleon.] Shall I not be your mistress?
[Looking on Cleom.
Cleon. No; for I would not get Egyptians.
Cas. For what, sir, do you take us?
Cleon. For what you are.
When the gods moulded up the paste of man,
Some of their dough was left upon their hands,
For want of souls; and so they made Egyptians.
They were intended for four feet; and when
They come to run before our noble Spartans,
They'll curse the gods for the two legs they owed them.
Cas. Then, since you will not let me be your mistress,
Would I had been your mother! [Looking still on Cleom.
Cleon. So would not I:
For then I had not been all Spartan.
Cas. [Aside.] He answers not my glances, stupid man!
My tender looks, my languishing regards,
Are like mis-aiming arrows, lost in air,
And miss the flying prey.

[While she walks, Cleom. and Cleon. are looking on a picture hanging on the side of the Scenes. She takes out a pocket-glass, and looks in it.

These eyes, I thank the gods,
Are still the same. The diamonds are not dimmed,
Nor is their lustre lost in Ptolemy.
Small boast: Alas! Ptolemy has no soul;
'Tis what he wants I love in Cleomenes.
Perhaps he dares not think I would be loved;
Then must I make the advance, and, making, lose
The vast prerogative our sex enjoys,
Of being courted first.—Courted! To what?
To our own wishes: There's the point; but still,
To speak our wishes first;—forbid it, pride,
Forbid it, modesty!—True; they forbid it,
But nature does not. When we are athirst,
Or hungry, will imperious nature stay?
Not eat nor drink, before 'tis bid fall on?—
Well, sex, if this must be,
That I must not invite, I may at least be suffered
To lay some kind occasion in his way,
That, if he dare but speak, he may succeed.

[She turns round to them, and observes what they are doing. Cleom. turns and meets her; Cleon. looks still on the picture.

Cleon. I durst not have presumed to interrupt
Your private thoughts.
Cas. They wholly were employed in serving you.
But durst not, and presume, are words of fear;
I thought they were not in your Spartan tongue;
For my sake banish them.
On what were you so earnestly employed,
You would not look this way?
Cleom. A picture, madam.
Cas. View it again, 'tis worth a second sight;
Your son observes it still.—'Twere well to help
My lover's understanding. [Goes with him to the Picture.
Know you this piece, young prince?
Cleon. Some battle, I believe; and in that thought,
I gaze with such delight.
Cleom. Some rape, I guess.
Cas. That's near the true design, and yet mistaken;
'Tis Paris, bearing from your Spartan shore
The beauteous Helen. How do you approve it?
Cleom. Not in the least, for 'tis a scurvy piece.
Cas. And yet 'tis known to be Apelles' hand.
The style is his; you grant he was a master.
Cleom. 'Tis scurvy still, because it represents
A base dishonest act; to violate
All hospitable rites, to force away
His benefactor's wife:—Ungrateful villain!
And so the gods, the avenging gods have judged.
Cleon. Was he a Spartan king that suffered this?
Sure he revenged the rape.
Cleom. He did, my boy,
And slew the ravisher.
Cas. Look better, sir; you'll find it was no rape.
Mark well that Helen in her lover's arms:
Can you not see, she but affects to strive?
She heaves not up her hands to heaven for help,
But hugs the kind companion of her flight.
See how her tender fingers strain his sides!
'Tis an embrace; a grasping of desire;
A very belt of love, that girds his waist.
She looks as if she did not fear to fall,
But only lose her lover, if she fell.
Observe her eyes; how slow they seem to roll
Their wishing looks, and languish on his face!
Observe the whole design, and you would swear,
She ravished Paris, and not Paris her.
Cleom. Sparta has not to boast of such a woman;
Nor Troy to thank her, for her ill-placed love.
Cas. But Paris had. As for the war that followed,
'Twas but a fable of a Grecian wit,
To raise the valour of his countrymen:
For Menelaus was an honest wretch;
A tame good man, that never durst resent;
A mere convenient husband, dull and slavish,
By nature meant the thing, the lovers made him.
Cleom. His goodness aggravates their crime the more.
Had Menelaus used his Helen ill,
Had he been jealous, or distrusted both,
I would allow a grain or two for love,
And plead in their excuse.
Cas. There was their safety, that he was not jealous.
What would you more of him? he was a fool,
And put the happy means into their hands.
Cleom. I cannot much commend my countryman.
Cas. Indeed, my lord, your countryman was dull,
That did not understand so plain a courtship.
Have Spartans eyes for nothing, not to see
So manifest a passion?
Cleom. Yes, too well.—[Aside.
Madam, your goodness interests you too much
In Helen's cause. I have no more to urge,
But that she was a wife: that word, a wife,
In spite of all your eloquence, condemns her.
Cas. You argue justly; therefore 'twas a crime:
But, had she been a mistress, not a wife,
Her love had been a virtue, to forsake
The nauseous bed of a loathed fulsome king,
And fly into a sprightly lover's arms.
Her love had been a merit to her Paris,
To leave her country, and, what's more, her kingdom,
With a poor fugitive prince to sail away,
And bear her wealth along, to make him happy.
Cleom. You put your picture in the fairest light:
But both the lovers broke their plighted vows;
He to Oenone, she to Menelaus.
Cas. The gods, that made two fools, had done more justly,
To have matched Menelaus with Oenone.
Think better of my picture, it deserves
A second thought; it speaks; the Helen speaks.
Cleon. It speaks Egyptian then; a base dishonest tongue.
Cas. You are too young to understand her language.— [To Cleon.
[To Cleom.
Do not thank me,
Till I have brought your business to perfection.
Doubt not my kindness; nothing shall be wanting
To make your voyage happy.
Cleom. I only fear the excess of your full bounty,
To give me more than what my wants require.
[Exeunt Cleom. and Cleon.
Cas. Meaning, perhaps, my person and my love:
I would not think it so; and yet I fear,
And while I fear, his voyage shall be hindered.
No breath of wind
Can stir, to waft him hence, unless I please:
I am the goddess that commands the seas.
In vain he vows at any other shrine,
My heart is in his hands, his fate's in mine. [Exit Cassandra.

ACT III.
SCENE I.—The King's Apartment.

A Table set. Ptolemy, Sosibius, Cassandra sitting: Ptolemy at the upper end; Cassandra sitting on the one side, Sosibius on the other.

Ptol. I must confess, 'twas obvious.
Sosib. He said he could command them with his nod:
Can he do this with mercenaries, raised
Not at his charge, but yours? by you maintained?
What could he more, had they been Spartans born?
Cas. What would you hence infer?
Sosib. What you observed:
Some are born kings, and so is Cleomenes.
Cas. A great soul dares not call himself a villain.
He has that interest, and will use it nobly;
To serve, and not to ruin his protector.
Sosib. Is Egypt's safety, and the king's, and your's,
Fit to be trusted on a bare suppose,
That he is honest? Honest, let him be;
But on his own experiment, not ours.
Man is but man; unconstant still, and various;
There's no to-morrow in him, like to-day.
Perhaps the atoms rolling in his brain
Make him think honestly this present hour;
The next, a swarm of base, ungrateful thoughts
May mount aloft; and where's our Egypt then?
Who would trust chance, since all men have the seeds
Of good and ill, which should work upward first?
Cas. All men! then you are one; and by that rule,
Your wicked atoms may be working now
To give bad counsel, that you still may govern.
Sosib. I would the king would govern.
Cas. Because you think I have too much command.
Ptol. Would you would rule me both by turns, in quiet,
And let me take my ease!
Cas. Then my turn's first.
Sosib. Our master's safety, in sound reason, ought
To be preferred to both.
Ptol. So thinks Cassandra too.
Cas. No; court Sosibius, and cast Cassandra off.
Ptol. What have I said, or done,
To merit this unkindness?
Tell me but what you think of Cleomenes,
And be my oracle.
Cas. I know him grateful.
Sosib. To know him grateful, is enough for Jove.
Cas. And therefore not too much for me in Egypt:
I say, I know him honest.
Ptol. Then I know it.
Now may Sosibius speak?
Cas. He may; but not to contradict my knowledge.
Sosib. Then I concur, to let him go for Greece;
And wish our Egypt fairly rid of him.
For, as our Apis, though in temples fed,
And under golden roofs, yet loaths his food,
Because restrained; and longs to roam in meads,
Among the milky-mothers of the herd:
So, Cleomenes, kept by force in Egypt,
Is sullen at our feasts, abhors our dainties,
And longs to change them for his Spartan broth[43].
He may be dangerous here; then send him hence,
With aid enough to conquer all he lost,
And make him formidable to mankind.
Cas. He may be formidable then to us?
That thou wouldst say.
Sosib. No; for you know him grateful.
Cas. Would thou wouldst learn to speak without a double,
Thou Delphian statesman! [Rises.
Sosib. Would I could know your wishes, that I might!
I would but smooth their way, and make them easy. [Bowing.
Cas. Good old man! [Smiling.
A little over zealous, but well-meaning.
My wishes are the honour of my king;
That Ptolemy may keep his royal word,
And I my promise, to procure this aid.
If to be mistress signifies command,
Let this be done; if not, the king may find
Another beauty, worthier of his bed,
And I another lover, less ungrateful.
Ptol. Let Egypt sink before that fatal day!
No, we are one; Cassandra, we are one;
Or I am nothing; thou art Ptolemy.
Cas. Now you deserve to be the first of kings,
Because you rank yourself the first of lovers.
What can I do to show Cassandra grateful?
Nothing but this—
To be so nice in my concerns for you;
To doubt where doubts are not; to be too fearful;
To raise a bug-bear shadow of a danger,
And then be frighted, though it cannot reach you.
Sosib. Be pleased to name your apprehensions, madam.
Cas. Plain souls, like mine, judge others by themselves;
Therefore I hold our Cleomenes honest.
But since 'tis possible, though barely so,
That he may prove ungrateful,
I would have pledges given us of his faith;
His wife, his mother, and his son, be left
As hostages in Egypt.
Sosib. Admirable!
Some god inspired you with this prudent counsel.
Ptol. I thought so too, but that I durst not speak.
Sosib. Leave me to manage this.
Cas. My best Sosibius!
But do it surely, by the easiest means;
Infuse it gently; do not pour it down:
Let him not think he stands suspected here;
And, least of all, by me.
Sosib. He shall not, madam.—
Now, sir, the illumination feast attends you;
For Apis has appeared.
Ptol. Why then I must be formal;
Go to the temple.—
Come, my fair Cassandra,
That I may have an object worth my worship. [Aside.
Cas. The God that I adore is in my breast;
This is the temple; this the sacrifice.
But to the powers divine we make appeal,
With great devotion, and with little zeal. [Exeunt Ptol. and Cas.
Sosib. [Solus.] Yes, yes, it shall be done; but not her way.—
Call in my son Cleanthes.—This Cassandra
Is our enchanting syren; she that sings
Our Ptolemy into secure destruction.
In vain I counsel him to avoid his ruin:
These women-charmers, oh they have a devil
Too strong to dispossess.—Call in my son. [Goes to the door.
Enter Cleanthes.
Cleanthes, are you Cleomenes' friend,
Or only seem you such?
Clean. To seem to be, and not be what I seem,
Are things my honest nature understands not.
Sosib. But you must love your king and country more.
Clean. Yes, when I have a king and country,
That can deserve my love.
Egypt, as Egypt is, deserves it not:
A people baser than the beasts they worship;
Below their pot-herb gods, that grow in gardens:
The king—
Sosib. Go to; young man, whate'er he be,
I must not hear my master vilified.
Clean. Why did you name him then? Were I at prayers.
And even for you, whom as my soul I love,
If Ptolemy should come across my thoughts,
A curse would follow, where I meant a blessing.
Sosib. 'Tis well, 'tis well I am so fond a father;
Those words were death in any other mouth.
I know too much of you; you love the Spartan
Beyond your king and country.
Clean. 'Tis a truth
So noble, I would own it to the gods,
And they be proud to hear it.
Sosib. Confess, you love him better than your father.
Clean. No; but I love him equal with my father.
Sosib. Say better, and say true.
If we were opposite, and one must fall,
Whom wouldst thou save?
Clean. Neither; for both would die,
Before I could resolve.
Sosib. If I command thee
To break thy friendship with him, wouldst thou?
Clean. No.
Sosib. Why, then thou hast confessed, thou lovest him more.
Clean. Not so: for, should he bid me disobey,
Or not love you, thus would I answer him,
As I have answered you.
Sosib. Ungrateful boy!
Clean. You bid me tell you true, and this is my reward.
Sosib. Go from my sight!
Clean. I will; but would not go
Without your blessing.
Sosib. O, so well I love thee,
That I could curse thee for not loving me!—
Stay, I would send thee on a message to him,
But that I fear thy faith.
Clean. You wrong my piety.
Sosib. It much concerns my interest, which is thine.
Wouldst thou deliver what I have to say?
Wouldst thou induce his reason to comply?
Clean. Both; granting your proposals honourable:
If not, employ some mercenary tongue,—
The court affords you store,—and spare my virtue.
Sosib. I would have Cleomenes sent away
With royal aid.
Clean. You promised him he should.
Sosib. And would have thee persuade him to this voyage.
Clean. A welcome errand: Oh my dear, dear father!
Sosib. But on my terms, mark that; my terms, Cleanthes.
Clean. I feared the statesman in you.
Sosib. I would have Egypt safe; that's all my interest:
And therefore he must leave behind, for pawns,
His mother, wife, and son.
Clean. 'Tis clogging of a gift; 'tis base, mean counsel.
I hope you gave it not.
Sosib. No, 'twas Cassandra:
But she would have that odium cast on me;
I am her beast of burden, and must bear it.
Clean. I never can bely so good a father;
But this I'll do:
The message shall be faithfully delivered,
And all the strumpet stand exposed to shame.
Sosib. Thou hitst my meaning; but he must be secret,
Must seem to take the favour as from her,
And lay the hardship of the terms on me.
Clean. He shall.
Sosib. And thou wilt gild this bitter pill;
For there's no other way to go from hence,
But leaving these behind.
Clean. A beam of thought comes glancing on my soul.— [Aside.
I'll undertake it,
The pledges shall be left.
Sosib. My best Cleanthes! [Embraces him.
But haste, and lose no time.
Clean. I'm all on fire to serve my friend and father. [Exit Cleanthes.
Sosib. [Alone.] This Cleomenes ought to be dispatched;
Dispatched the safest way: he ought to die.
Not that I hate his virtue; but I fear it.
The mistress drives my counsels to the leeward.
Now I must edge upon a point, of wind;
And make slow way, recovering more and more,
Till I can bring my vessel safe ashore. [Exit Sosib.

SCENE II.—

Of a Temple with Illuminations. An Altar, Apis painted above; Priests and Choristers.