las. Ours the fame
Of Poets, Statesmen, Orators, whose works
And thoughts upon the forehead of mankind
Shine like a precious jewel; ours the glory
Of those great Soldiers who by sea and land
Scattered the foemen to the winds of heaven,
First in the files of time. And though our mother,
Our Athens, sank, crushed by the might of Rome,
What is Rome now?--An Empire rent in twain;
An Empire sinking 'neath the unwieldy weight
Of its own power; an Empire where the Senate
Ranks lower than the Circus, and a wanton
Degrades the Imperial throne. But though to its fall
The monster totters, this our Cherson keeps
The bravery of old, and still maintains
The old Hellenic spirit and some likeness
Of the fair Commonwealth which ruled the world.
Surely, my father, 'tis a glorious spring
Drawn from the heaven-kissed summits whence we come;
And shall we, then, defile our noble blood
By mixture with this upstart tyranny
Which fouls the Hellenic pureness of its source
In countless bastard channels? If our State
Ask of its children sacrifice, 'tis well.
It shall be given; only I prithee, father,
Seek not that I should with barbaric blood
Taint the pure stream, which flows from Pericles.
Let me abide unwedded, if I may,
A Greek girl as before.

_Lama._ Daughter, thy choice
Is free as air to accept or to reject
This suitor; only, in the name of Cherson,
Do nothing rashly, and meanwhile take care
That nought that fits a Grecian State be wanting
To do him honour.

_Gycia._ Sir, it shall be done.

SCENE II.--_Outside the palace of_ LAMACHUS.

MEGACLES _and_ COURTIERS.

_Meg._ Well, my lords, and so this is the palace. A grand palace,
forsooth, and a fine reception to match! Why, these people are worse
than barbarians. They are worse than the sea, and that was
inhospitable enough. The saints be praised that that is over, at any
rate. Oh, the intolerable scent of pitch, and the tossing and the
heaving! Heaven spare me such an ordeal again! I thought I should
have died of the smells. And here, can it be? Is it possible that
there is a distinct odour of--pah! what? Oils, as I am a Christian,
and close to the very palace of the Archon! What a detestable people!
Some civet, good friends, some civet!

_1st Court._ Here it is, good Megacles. You did not hope, surely, to
find republicans as sweet as those who live cleanly under a King?
But