David: A Tragedy

_SCENE: A savage mountain-cliff in the wilderness of Engeddi. On either side gray crags rise rugged, sinking away precipitously across the back. Cut into each is a cave. The height is reached by clefts from all sides._

_Between the crags to the East is the far blue of the Dead Sea; and still beyond, bathed in the waning afternoon, stretch the purple shores of Moab. During the act the scene grows crimson with sunset and a thunder-cloud rises over the sea._

_Lying on a pallet of skins near the cliff’s verge, DAVID tosses feverishly. Three of his followers and a lad, who serves him, are gathered toward the front, ragged, hungry, and hunted, in altercation over a barley-cake._

David. Water! the fever fills me, and I thirst. Water!

First Follower. Listen.

Second Follower. He calls.

David. Water! I thirst.

THE LAD

Yes, yes, my lord. [_Takes up a water-skin._] Ah, empty, not a quaff! They’ve drunk it all from him! My lord, none’s left. I’ll run and in the valley brim it soon.

[_He goes._ DAVID _sinks back_.]

SECOND FOLLOWER [_To_ FIRST.] _You_ drank it then.

First Follower. And should I thirst, not he? Give me the bread.

Second Follower. If it would strangle you.

First Follower. I’ll have it.

Second Follower. Or betray him? spitingly? It is the last. Already you have eat. And we are here within a wilderness.

First Follower. Be it, but I’ll not starve.

Third Follower. He utters right. Why should we but to follow a mere shepherd Famish and o’er a hundred desert hills? The prophecy portending him the throne-- Folly, not fate! though it is Samuel’s. I’ll trust in it no more.

First Follower. Nor I.

Third Follower. And Saul Has driven us from waste to waste--pressed us Even unto the Philistines for shelter, And now unto this crag. And is not David’s Thought but of Michal, not of smiting him And, with a host, of leaping to the kingdom?

[DAVID _stirs to rise_.]

First Follower. He moves; peace!

Third Follower. Let him.

Second Follower. Peace.

Third Follower. And fawning too?

DAVID [Sufferingly] Men--men, we must have news. Perpetual, Implacable they stare unto each other. This rock and stony sky. [_Rises and comes down to them._] We must have news.

[_They are silent._]

Longer is death. ’Tis overmany days Of sighing and remembered verdancy; Nor any dew or upward odor comes. Who will go now and bring us word of Saul?

Third Follower. Have not Abishai, Abiathar, And others gone?

David. Bravely.

Third Follower. And none returned!

David. Not one of all.

Third Follower. Well, then, we are not swine, And life’s but once.

David. So----?

Third Follower. We will follow you No longer hungered and rewarded never, But perilously ever.

David. It is well.

[_He looses a bracelet from his arm._]

This was a gift from Saul. In it is ease.

[_Gives it to_ THIRD FOLLOWER, _who goes_.]

This ring was Jonathan’s. The jewel tells Still of the sunny haven of his heart. Upon my hand he pressed it--the day we leapt Deeper than friends into each other’s love.

[_Gives it to_ FIRST FOLLOWER, _who goes_.]

This chain----

Second Follower. I want it not.

David. You have not thought; ’Tis riches--such as Sidon marts and Tyre Would covet.

Second Follower. I care not.

David. None else is left.

Second Follower. No matter.

David. Then----?

Second Follower. There was of Gibeah A woman--dear to me. Her face at night Weeping among my dreams.… The prophecy Is unfulfilled, and vain!

David. And you would go?

Second Follower. The suffering--this cliff.

David. I understand, [_Motions._] So, without any blame, and to content.

[_The_ SECOND FOLLOWER _falters, then goes_.]

[_Quietly._] A desolation left, of rock and air, Of barren sea and bitterness as vast. Thou hast bereft me, Saul! thou hast bereft!

[_He moves up the cliff, gazes sadly away, then kneels by a stone, as to pray._]

My flesh cries for oblivion--to sink Unwaking away into the Night … where is No tears, but only tides of sleep.… No, crieth Not for Oblivion and Night, but for Rage and revenge! Saul! Saul!… My spirit, peace. As pants the heart for the water-brook, so I!

[_He bows his head._ MICHAL _in rags that disguise, enters with the_ LAD, _unseen_.]

Her lips it was that hurled me unto this! Yet, yet not violence on him and blood! I must revenge’s call within me quell, Though righteously it quivers and aflame.

[_He goes slowly into the cave, Right._]

Michal. This is the place, then, this?

Lad. Yes, princess.

Michal. Here

So long in want and sickness he hath hid? Under the livid day and lonelier night!

Lad. I brought him water, often.

Michal. Little lad! But he has heard no word from me--not how My father, Saul, frantic of my repentance, Had unto Phalti, a new lord, betrothed me? How then I fled to win unto these wilds?

Lad. He heard not anything--only the tales I told of Moab, my own land.

[DAVID _plays within_.]

But oh! It is his harp.

Michal. And strains that weep o’er me!… I’ll speak to him … and yet must be unknown! A leper? as a leper could I…?

Lad. Why Must he not know you?

Michal. Ask me not, lad, now; But go a little.

Lad. Yes.

[_He sets down the water-skin and goes._]

MICHAL [_Delaying, then in a loud voice._] Unclean! Unclean!

[_Conceals her face in her hair._]

David. Who crieth here?

Michal. Unclean!

DAVID [_Appearing._] Who cries unclean? Poor leper in these wilds, who art thou?

Michal. One Outcast and faint, forlorn!

David. Then you have come To one more bitter outcast than yourself, One who has less than this lone void to give, This sterile solitude and sun, this scene Of leaden desolation that makes mad. Who has no ease but cave or shading rock, Or the still moon, or stars that glide the night. One over whom----

Michal. Yet, pity!

David. The pale hours Flow dead into eternity.

Michal. Ah, yet…!

David. My cloak, then, for thy tattered limbs. Or, no-- This chain of Ophir for thy every need. Once was it dear, but should be so no more. [_Flinging it to her._] Have it, and with it vanish memory Out of my breast----

Michal. No, no.

David. And from me fall Link upon link her loveliness that bound.

Michal. Oh, do not!

David. Woman…?

Michal. Nothing. A chain like this I once beheld wind undulantly bright O’er Michal, the king’s daughter.

David. Woman, the king’s?

Michal. Pity!

David. Who are you?

Michal. Stay! Unclean!

David. A spy? A spy of Saul and hypocrite have crept Hither to learn…?

Michal. Have heed--unclean!

David. How then Wandering come you here?

Michal. Unclean! Unclean!

David. My brain is overfull of fever, mad. Almost and I had touched thy peril, held Thy hideous contagion.

Michal. Wrong!

David. Then who Art thou to know and speak of her, of Michal?

Michal. One who has served the king.

David. And you have seen Michal, you have beheld her?

Michal. Once, when she In face was fairer and in heart than now They say she is.

David. And heard her speak?

Michal. A night Under the leaves of Gibeah--when she Sang with another--David.

David. Say no more.

Michal. And from afar, under the moon, blew faint The treading of the wine-presses with song. David she loved, but anger-torn betrayed, Unworthy of him.

David. Speak of her no more, Nor of her cruelty, unless to pray He she has ruined may forget her.

Michal. Yet If deep she should repent----?

David. Leper, no more.

[_A moment; then a jackal’s cry shrills to them._ DAVID _starts_.]

The signal. [_He listens._] Thrice repeated? Word at last? [_To_ MICHAL.] He who is near may prove to thee less kind.

[_She goes. He springs to look down the cliff._]

Abishai? Abiathar? It is! But staggering and wounded? breathless? torn?

[_He watches, then turns to meet them. They enter_--ABIATHAR _with bloody ephod and broken breastplate_--_and sink in panting exhaustion_.]

Abishai, what is it that you bring? Abiathar, up! answer!

Abiathar. Water!

David. Up!

[_He brings the water-skin. They drain it fiercely._]

What is it now so fevered from you stares And breathing too abhorrence? Gasp it out.

Abiathar. I stifle--in a universe--he still-- Has breath in.

David. Saul?

Abiathar. I’ll scathe him! Scorpions Of terror and remorse sting in his soul!

David. If you have tidings, not in words so wild.

Abiathar. Then ask and hate shall calm me.

David. Ask?

Abiathar. On, on! Seek if he lives!

David. Who?

Abiathar. Seek if prophecy Founts yet in Judah!

David. Samuel…?

Abiathar. Is dead!… Dead--and of tidings more calamitous.

[_A pause._]

DAVID [_Hoarsely._]

Tell on. I hear.

Abiathar. Saul gloating to believe The priests, assembled sacredly at Nob, Plotted assisting you, hath had them----

David. No…!

Abiathar. Slain at the hands of Doeg--murdered, all!

David. But he--your father?

Abiathar. Was among them; fell.

[_He stands motionless._]

DAVID [_Gently._]

Abiathar, my friend!… Appeaseless Saul!

Abiathar. Hear all, hear all! Thy father, too, and mother, Even thy kindred, out of Israel Are driven into Moab; and this king, Delirious still for blood as desert pard, With Merab, whelp of him, and many armed, Is near us now--aquiver at Engeddi For your destruction:

[DAVID _struggles for control_.]

And yet you will not strike.

David. [_Low._] No, but of Michal, tell me good at once, Lest unendurable this lot, I may-- and mount o’er every oath into revenge.

Abiathar. Ha--Michal!

David. She withholds her father’s wrath?

Abiathar. She’s well.

David. Not if you say no more.

Abiathar. I know Nothing of her.

David. Your look belies.

Abiathar. Perhaps: As did her love.

David. That is for me.

Abiathar. Well, what? A woman who betrays?

David. Speak, not evade; And judge her when earth has no mystery.

Abiathar. Then from your craving put her--wide; she is Unworthy any tremor of your veins.

David. Dawn-lilies under dew are then unworthy, And nesting doves are horrible to heaven. I will not so believe. Your reason…!

Abiathar. Saul Has given her--and she will wed him, aye-- To Phalti, a new lord.

David. Untrue of her!

Abiathar. Cry. Yet you will believe it.

David. Not until The verdant parable of spring is hushed Ever of bloom, to prove it. Never till Hermon is swung into the sea! until The last void of the everlasting sky----

[_Looking up he falters, breaks off, and is strangely moved at something beheld._]

Abiathar. What, what alarm?

Abishai. What stare you on?

Abiathar. He’s mad?

[DAVID _points_. _They look up._]

Abiathar. An eaglet!…

Abishai. Eaglet?

Abiathar. Pierct!

Abishai. Pierct?…

David. Falling here. And beating against death unbuoyantly.

[_The bird, an arrow through it, drops in throes at their feet._]

A destiny, a fate in this is hidden!

[_He bends over it, then quickly back._]

Abiathar. A destiny, how, how?

David. The arrow!--His! His, and no other’s. Quick, then, no delay.

Abiathar. Be clear, clearer.

David. We are discovered--near On us is death. Open the secret chamber Within the cave, for from the bow of Saul Is yonder bleeding--from no other.

Abiathar. Saul’s? But how, was any here?

David. To-day, to-day. A leper wandering.

Abiathar. We are betrayed.

[ABISHAI _with the water-skin hastens into the cave, Right_. DAVID _and_ ABIATHAR _stand listening_. _Noise of approach is heard._]

David. They near.

Abiathar. And many.

David. King of Israel! Inexorable!

Abiathar. O, rebuke him, do!

David. Almost I am beyond this tolerance.

Abiathar. In truth. Therefore it is you rise and shake Out of his power the sceptre!

David. Tempt me not! Mercy and memory almost are dead, And craving birth in me is fateful ire.

[_They follow into the cave. Hardly have they done so when at a shout_, SAUL, _bloodthirsty, with_ DOEG, ABNER, ISHUI, _and soldiers, pour in from all sides, with drawn weapons_.]

Saul. On, to him! search the caves! In, in, and bring Him to my sword, and Michal with him. [_Pacing terrible the while._] They Shall couch upon eternity and dust. [_Weakly._] I am the king, and Israel is mine.… I’ll sleep upon their grave--I’ll sleep upon it, And hear the worm…! [_To a_ SOLDIER _re-entering from one cave_.] Where is he? Bring him.

Soldier. O King----

Saul. You’ve slain him and you tremble! Say it.

Soldier. No.

Saul. Then hither with him; hither!

Soldier. He’s not here.

Saul. A treachery! You cunningly contrive To aid him, so.…

[_To a_ SOLDIER _re-entering fearfully from the other cave_.]

Bring me his head.

Soldier. My lord, He is not there.

Saul. I tell you it is lies-- Because you deem that he shall be the king And treasure up reward and amnesty.

[_Into one cave, then another he rushes, then out among them furious._]

From me, ill-fruited ineffectual herd! Away from me, he’s fled and none of you Is servant and will find and for me seize him! From me--I’ll sleep--I’ll rest--and then--

[_All begin to crowd out, overawed, but_ DOEG and ABNER.]

I’ll sleep.

[_Slowly he moves into the cave, Left, and lies down._]

Abner. [_To_ DOEG, significantly.] The evil spirit.

Doeg. Yes; is on him swift As never before, and as a drunkenness.

Abner. Then, safe to leave him?

Doeg. Will he brook denial?

Abner. And Merab, too, will soon be here.

Doeg. Well, come.

Abner. I’ll go and look upon him.

[_Goes to_ SAUL’S _cave and returns_.]

Already he sleeps.

[_Turning they encounter_ MICHAL _entering, still disguised_. _She quails._]

Woman, who are you, who?

Michal. Unclean! away!

Doeg. Unclean? a leper? in this place? Are there No stones to stone you? Hence! And had I not A brother such as thou----

Michal. Pity! Unclean!

[_She goes quickly; then they. A space. Then she returns trembling, fearful._]

I’ll call him! I will save him!--David! David!-- I his discomfiture and ruin!--David! David! hear me! David!

[_Searching, she approaches the cave where_ SAUL _lies, but recoils terrified_.]

The king! my father! I cannot--am not--whither shall I, whither?

[_Confused she flees, as scuffling is heard, and_ ABISHAI _and_ ABIATHAR, _struggling with_ DAVID, _appear_.]

David. Loose me, I say. ’Twas Michal and she called. [_Breaking free._] I say that it was she!

Abiathar. Foolhardy, no. Return into the cave, and ere too late!

[MERAB, _veiled, enters behind them_.]

David. ’Twas Michal and no other.

Abiathar. You are duped.

David. The breathing of archangels could not so Have swung the burden from me as her call.

[_Searching, he faces--and beholds_ MERAB. _His look grows to coldness._]

Merab. It is not Michal.

David. No--it is not Michal.

[_He motions_ ABIATHAR _and_ ABISHAI _aside_.]

Merab. Yet it is one who----

David. Need not lift her veil Or longer stay. The path she came is open.

Merab. I’m here--and here will speak! I’ve hither stolen, Yearning--I say it--yearning--and I will.

David. These words I do not know.

Merab. Because you will not. More all-devouring than a Moloch is This love within me----

David. Love and you are twain, As sun and Sheol.

Merab. False. I am become For want of you as famine-wind, a wave In the mid-tempest, with no rest, no shore.

David. I do not hear the unashamed words Of one who has but recently another, Adriel, wedded.

Merab. You refuse me then?

David. I beg you but to cease.

Merab. Goaded, chagrined? No, but this will I do. The Philistines, For long at rioting within their walls, Gather again and break toward Gilboa.…

David. This is not true.

Merab. To-morrow must my father From hunting you return and arm for battle. But--many would that you were king.

David. Were?…

Merab. King!

David. I do not understand your eyes.

Merab. I will For love of you arouse rebellion up, Murmur about the host your heaven-call, And lift you to the kingdom.

David. To the--stay! Your words again.

Merab. The kingdom.

David. Awful God!

Merab. What is your mien? you will not?

David. Twice the words-- Full from her lips--and to betray her father.

[ABIATHAR _discovers_ SAUL.]

Merab. You will not? answer!

David. Odious utterly! As yonder sea of death and bitter salt, As foam-girt Joppa of idolatry, As Memphian fane of all abhorrencies! Morning would move with horror of it, noon A livid sepulchre of shame span o’er, And night shrink to remember day had been!

Merab. You scorn--you scorn me?

David. Jonathan! your sister!

Merab. Then Saul shall rend you dead. And Jonathan!…

[_She laughs shrilly._]

Perchance you have not heard that Jonathan Knows to the Philistines you fled--and loathes you!

David. I have not heard.

Merab. Nor have not, ah? how Michal Is given to the embraces of another?

[DAVID _shrinks_.]

You desperately breathe and pale at last?

[_She laughs more bitterly._]

To me for aid, to me, you yet shall come.

[_She goes._ DAVID _slowly lifts his hand to his brow in heavy pain_. ABIATHAR--_and soon_ ABISHAI--_abruptly descends from the cave to him_.]

Abiathar. David----

David. Leave me.

Abiathar. Not till you know--and strike!

David. I tell you go.

Abiathar. I tell you ’tis the king.

David. Who breaks forbearance--yes.

Abiathar. Who lieth yonder, And sleeping lieth--for a thrust to end.

David. [_His sword quickly out, struggling._]

This throb and wounds that wring me! and this wail Under the deeps of me against his wrongs, Awakening remembrance that with burst And burn of pain.… O, never-ceasing ill!

[_Flings the sword down, anguished._]

Abiathar. You will not come?

David. The sun is set.

Abiathar. Has Saul Hunted you to this desert’s verge----?

David. Enough!

Abiathar. Has he pursued you, all his hate unleashed? Is Samuel not slain? the priests? my father? The kingdom is not in decay, and falls? You are not prophecy’s anointed one? Seize up the sword and strike--or I myself!

David. Or … you yourself…?

[_Silently he puts them aside, takes up the sword, and slowly goes into_ SAUL’S _cave_.]

Abishai. What will he do? Listen!

[MICHAL _enters unseen_.]

Abiathar. If Saul cries out.…

Abishai. Be ready.…

Michal. [_To them._] What is this!

[DAVID, _haggard, with drawn sword and a piece of_ SAUL’S _cloak in his hand, re-enters from the cave_. _He sees_ MICHAL, _pauses, and gazes upon her, as she on him, with rising emotion_.]

MICHAL [_Inarticulate. Then._]

Ah, you have slain-- Have slain him! Wretch! thou wretch! And sleeping as he was!

David. Then it was you? In lying rags?

Michal. Have struck him in his sleep! And merciless!--And now will kill me, too?

David. In faithless rags? You are the leper? Who

[_Growing frenzied._]

Drove me a prey unto this wilderness! Upon the blot of it and death and sear! The silence, burning, and relentless swoon! You are the leper, who have broken troth And shut the cry of justice from your breast! Who’ve stifled me with desolation’s woe, Who’ve followed still and still have me betrayed!

Michal. Betrayed? No, loose me!

David. Slain thy father? slain?

[_Flinging the piece of_ SAUL’S _cloak at her feet_.]

See how I might--see, see you, yonder he lies A king who quits the kingdom, though a cloud Of Philistines is foaming toward Gilboa; Jeoparded leaves it, undefended, for Pursuit of me and pitiless harrying! A king who murders priests.…

Michal. Priests?

David. Stifles God With penitence that he has shaped the world! Have slain? have slain him! I have slain him! Ah! Ah, that I had thy falseness and could slay him!

Michal. David!…

David. Nevermore near me! never with That quivering and tenderness of lure. Those eyes that hold infinity of fate, That breathing cassia-sweet, but sorcery!

Michal. Oh.…

David. Never thy presence pouring beauty, swift, And seething in the brain as frantic wine! I’ll be no more enspelled of thee--never! I will not hear thee and be wound by words Into thy wile as wide as Ashtoreth’s, Back into hope, eternity of pain!

[_In agony he goes_, ABIATHAR _and_ ABISHAI _after_. MICHAL _stands gazing fearlessly before her, as_ SAUL, _awakened, slowly comes from the mouth of the cave down toward her_.]

[_CURTAIN._]