The Cup and The Falcon

Enter Synorix (looking round). Singing ceases. Synorix. Pine, beech and plane, oak, walnut, apricot, Vine, cypress, poplar, myrtle, bowering-in The city where she dwells. She past me here Three years ago when I was flying from My Tetrarchy to Rome. I almost touch’d her— A maiden slowly moving on to music Among her maidens to this Temple—O Gods! She is my fate—else wherefore has my fate Brought me again to her own city?—married Since—married Sinnatus, the Tetrarch here— But if he be conspirator, Rome will chain, Or slay him. I may trust to gain her then When I shall have my tetrarchy restored By Rome, our mistress, grateful that I show’d her The weakness and the dissonance of our clans, And how to crush them easily. Wretched race! And once I wish’d to scourge them to the bones. But in this narrow breathing-time of life Is vengeance for its own sake worth the while, If once our ends are gain’d? and now this cup— I never felt such passion for a woman. [Brings out a cup and scroll from under his cloak. What have I written to her? [Reading the scroll.