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From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

syrian

How many times the word 'syrian' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

skin

How many times the word 'skin' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

chafed

How many times the word 'chafed' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

sorrow

How many times the word 'sorrow' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

hid

How many times the word 'hid' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

makes

How many times the word 'makes' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

pipes

How many times the word 'pipes' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

anguish

How many times the word 'anguish' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

dwell

How many times the word 'dwell' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

wine

How many times the word 'wine' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

hail

How many times the word 'hail' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

closing

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From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

passionate

How many times the word 'passionate' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

little

How many times the word 'little' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

pine

How many times the word 'pine' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

lectured

How many times the word 'lectured' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

toss

How many times the word 'toss' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

walk

How many times the word 'walk' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

descent

How many times the word 'descent' appears in the text?

From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form of the things that die, and walk as Man. O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown, O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own, Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side. [_As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship._] CHORUS _A Maiden_ From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises To Bromios ever glorying we came. We laboured for our Lord in many guises; We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is; Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name! _Another_ Who lingers in the road? Who espies us? We shall hide him in his house nor be bold. Let the heart keep silence that defies us; For I sing this day to Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old. _All the Maidens_ Oh, bless d he in all wise, Who hath drunk the Living Fountain, Whose life no folly staineth, And his soul is near to God; Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise, As he worships on the Mountain, And where Cybele ordaineth, Our Mother, he has trod: His head with ivy laden And his thyrsus tossing high, For our God he lifts his cry; "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden, Come, O ye Bacchae, come; Oh, bring the Joy-bestower, God-seed of God the Sower, Bring Bromios in his power From Phrygia's mountain dome; To street and town and tower, Oh, bring ye Bromios home." Whom erst in anguish lying For an unborn life's desire, As a dead thing in the Thunder His mother cast to earth; For her heart was dying, dying, In the white heart of the fire; Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder, Devised new lairs of birth; Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him, And with clasps of bitter gold Did a secret son enfold, And the Queen knew not beside him; Till the perfect hour was there; Then a horn d God was found, And a God of serpents crowned; And for that are serpents wound In the wands his maidens bear, And the songs of serpents sound In the mazes of their hair. _Some Maidens_ All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel ! With Semel 's wild ivy crown thy towers; Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony, Berries and leaves and flowers; Uplift the dark divine wand, The oak-wand and the pine-wand, And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity With fleecy white, like ours. Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride! Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray, When Bromios his companies shall guide Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay, The flock of the Believing, The maids from loom and weaving By the magic of his breath borne away. _Others_ Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare, For thee of old crested Corybant First woke in Cretan air The wild orb of our orgies, The Timbrel; and thy gorges Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant And sweet keen pipes were there. But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's, And away to Mother Rhea it must wend; And to our holy singing from the Mother's The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend In the dancing and the cheer Of our third and perfect Year; And it serves Dionysus in the end! _A Maiden_ O glad, glad on the mountains To swoon in the race outworn, When the holy fawn-skin clings, And all else sweeps away, To the joy of the red quick fountains, The blood of the hill-goat torn, The glory of wild-beast ravenings, Where the hill-tops catch the day; To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains! 'Tis Bromios leads the way. _Another Maiden_ Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams With wine and nectar of the bee, And through the air dim perfume steams Of Syrian frankincense; and He, Our leader, from his thyrsus spray A torchlight tosses high and higher, A torchlight like a beacon-fire, To waken all that faint and stray; And sets them leaping as he sings, His tresses rippling to the sky, And deep beneath the Maenad cry His proud voice rings: "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!" _All the Maidens_ Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden, Come with the voice of timbrel and drum; Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come! With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour, On, where the vision of holiness thrills, And the music climbs and the maddening glamour, With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills! Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river, A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings, With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver, Away the Bacchanal springs! [_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin_.] TEIRESIAS Ho, there, who keeps the gate?--Go, summon me Cadmus, Ag nor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine errand, and the compact, age with age, I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair, To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows. [_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS, _and wears the same attire_.] CADMUS True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.--Nay; I am not weak. [_At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him._] Surely this arm could smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The dim years fall from off me! TEIRESIAS As with thee, With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young, And will essay the dancing and the song. CADMUS Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road. TEIRESIAS Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God. CADMUS So be it. Mine old arms shall guide thee there. TEIRESIAS The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care. CADMUS And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we? TEIRESIAS Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see. CADMUS 'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so. TEIRESIAS Lo, there is mine. So link d let us go. CADMUS Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise? TEIRESIAS Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries? Not thou and I! That heritage sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught. Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years, To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs; What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, no man marked apart; and great shall be! CADMUS (_after looking away toward the Mountain_). Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read, I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed Pentheus, Ech on's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear. [_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_ SOLDIER _in command._] PENTHEUS Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay, 'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray. Howbeit, all that I have found, my men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And mountain song and rites of rascaldom! They tell me, too, there is a stranger come, A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas, A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies, A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of Bacchios?--Father!--Nay, mine eyes are fond; It is not your white heads so fancy-flown! It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown, O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival, In all their prayers is no more health at all! LEADER OF THE CHORUS (_the words are not heard by_ PENTHEUS) Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Ech on and to thee? TEIRESIAS Good words my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. D m t r one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semel born. He found the liquid show Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mail d and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod! I will not lift mine arm to war with God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semel 's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.] Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS _head_.] PENTHEUS Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.] This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown And trident; make one wreck of high and low And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle._] TEIRESIAS Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Thou Immaculate on high; Thou Recording Purity; Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing, Earthward, manward, pitying, Hearest thou this angry King? Hearest thou the rage and scorn 'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices, Him of mortal mother born, Him in whom man's heart rejoices, Girt with garlands and with glee, First in Heaven's sovranty? For his kingdom, it is there, In the dancing and the prayer, In the music and the laughter, In the vanishing of care, And of all before and after; In the Gods' high banquet, when Gleams the graperflood, flashed to heaven; Yea, and in the feasts of men Comes his crown d slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven! _Others_ Loose thy lips from out the rein; Lift thy wisdom to disdain; Whatso law thou canst not see, Scorning; so the end shall be Uttermost calamity! 'Tis the life of quiet breath, 'Tis the simple and the true, Storm nor earthquake shattereth, Nor shall aught the house undo Where they dwell. For, far away, Hidden from the eyes of day, Watchers are there in the skies, That can see man's life, and prize Deeds well done by things of clay. But the world's Wise are not wise, Claiming more than mortal may. Life is such a little thing; Lo, their present is departed, And the dreams to which they cling Come not. Mad imagining Theirs, I ween, and empty-hearted! _Divers Maidens_ Where is the Home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam, Would I could wend to thee; Where the wings of the Loves are furled, And faint the heart of the world. Aye, unto Paphos' isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled From the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves. But a better land is there Where Olympus cleaves the air, The high still dell Where the Muses dwell, Fairest of all things fair! O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire, And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire! * * * * * A God of Heaven is he, And born in majesty; Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth, And he loveth constantly Her who brings increase, The Feeder of Children, Peace. No grudge hath he of the great; No scorn of the mean estate; But to all that liveth His wine he giveth, Griefless, immaculate; Only on them that spurn Joy, may his anger burn. Love thou the Day and the Night; Be glad of the Dark and the Light; And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise, That have honour in proud men's sight. The simple nameless herd of Humanity Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me! [_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound. The_ SOLDIER _in command stands forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle._] SOLDIER Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King, Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing Most tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee, But held both hands out unresistingly-- No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek. He waited while we came, and bade us wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my best Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: "O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me." And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King. Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is this man come.... Howbeit, it lies with thee! PENTHEUS Ye are mad!--Unhand him. Howso swift he be, My toils are round him and he shall not fly. [_The guards loose the arms of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a while in silence then speaks jeeringly._ DIONYSUS _remains gentle and unafraid._] Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye, Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween! Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [_DIONYSUS is silent._] Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race. DIONYSUS No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace. Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers? PENTHEUS Surely, the ridge that winds by Sardis towers. DIONYSUS Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland. PENTHEUS And whence these revelations, that thy band Spreadeth in Hellas? DIONYSUS Their intent and use Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus. PENTHEUS (_brutally_) Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods? DIONYSUS Nay, only He whose seal was set Here in thy Thebes on Semele. PENTHEUS What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night? DIONYSUS Most clear he stood, and scanned My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand. PENTHEUS What like be they, these emblems? DIONYSUS That may none Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone. PENTHEUS And what good bring they to the worshipper? DIONYSUS Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear. PENTHEUS Thou trickster? Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out! DIONYSUS His mysteries abhor The touch of sin-lovers. PENTHEUS And so thine eyes Saw this God plain; what guise had he? DIONYSUS What guise It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape. PENTHEUS Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered! DIONYSUS Wise words being brought To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought. PENTHEUS And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established? DIONYSUS Nay; all Barbary hath trod His dance ere this. PENTHEUS A low blind folk, I ween, Beside our Hellenes! DIONYSUS Higher and more keen In this thing, though their ways are not thy way. PENTHEUS How is thy worship held, by night or day? DIONYSUS Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness. PENTHEUS Ha! with women worshipping? 'Tis craft and rottenness! DIONYSUS By day no less, Whoso will seek may find unholiness-- PENTHEUS Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes. DIONYSUS Not mine; but thine, for dense Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God! PENTHEUS A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest! DIONYSUS Come, say what it shall be, My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me? PENTHEUS First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there. [_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.] DIONYSUS I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair. [_The soldiers cut off the tress_.] PENTHEUS Next, yield me up thy staff! DIONYSUS Raise thine own hand To take it. This is Dionysus' wand. [PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.] PENTHEUS Last, I will hold thee prisoned here. DIONYSUS My Lord God will unloose me, when I speak the word. PENTHEUS He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice! DIONYSUS Even now he stands Close here, and sees all that I suffer. PENTHEUS What? Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not. DIONYSUS Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee. PENTHEUS The dog jeers at me! At me and Thebes! Bind him! [_The soldiers begin to bind him_.] DIONYSUS I charge ye, bind Me not! I having vision and ye blind! PENTHEUS And I, with better right, say bind the more! [_The soldiers obey_.] DIONYSUS Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art! PENTHEUS (_mocking_) Ag v 's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus! DIONYSUS So let it be, A name fore-written to calamity! PENTHEUS Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day! DIONYSUS I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house! [DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon._ PENTHEUS _returns into the Palace._] CHORUS _Some Maidens_ Achelous' roaming daughter, Holy Dirc , virgin water, Bathed he not of old in thee, The Babe of God, the Mystery? When from out the fire immortal To himself his God did take him, To his own flesh, and bespake him: "Enter now life's second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake-- "And to this thy land reveal thee." _All_ Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dirc , still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessed among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! _Other Maidens_ Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echion, child of Earth. He is no man, but a wonder; Did the Earth-Child not beget him, As a red Giant, to set him Against God, against the Thunder? He will bind me for his prize, Me, the Bride of Dionyse; And my priest, my friend, is taken Even now, and buried lies; In the dark he lies forsaken! _All_ Lo, we race with death, we perish, Dionysus, here before thee! Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish, Who implore thee, and adore thee? Hither down Olympus' side, Come, O Holy One defied, Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride! _A Maiden_ Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Dionysus loveth thee; Blessed Land of Pi rie, He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen! A VOICE WITHIN Io! Io! Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry, Calling my Chosen; hearken ye! A MAIDEN Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus? ANOTHER A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us! THE VOICE Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I, The Child of Zeus and Semel . A MAIDEN O Master, Master, it is Thou! ANOTHER O Holy Voice, be with us now! THE VOICE Spirit of the Chained Earthquake, Hear my word; awake,

make

How many times the word 'make' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

sunrise

How many times the word 'sunrise' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

many

How many times the word 'many' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

set

How many times the word 'set' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

creature

How many times the word 'creature' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

subsist

How many times the word 'subsist' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

light

How many times the word 'light' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

grumbling

How many times the word 'grumbling' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

brightly

How many times the word 'brightly' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

standards

How many times the word 'standards' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

heap

How many times the word 'heap' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

trouble

How many times the word 'trouble' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

it,--he

How many times the word 'it,--he' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

stale

How many times the word 'stale' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

brought

How many times the word 'brought' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

across

How many times the word 'across' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

possibly

How many times the word 'possibly' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

featherheaded

How many times the word 'featherheaded' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

coming

How many times the word 'coming' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

rooms--

How many times the word 'rooms--' appears in the text?

From the parlor, Evelyn heard his voice. She had found him amusing in the first days of their acquaintance, and possibly she might again find him diverting, but this afternoon he had chosen ill for his call. She was quite sure she detested him. For the first time she measured him by standards of which he could know nothing, and found no good thing in him. What had Marsh meant when he forced this most undesirable acquaintance on her! "You wanted to see Marsh?" she asked, as she gave him her hand. "That will keep," said Gilmore cheerfully. "May I stay?" he added. "If you wish," she answered indifferently. She felt a sense of shame at his presence there. Everything about her seemed to sink to his level, which was a very low level, she was sure. These afternoon calls were a recent feature of their intimacy. Before Gilmore came, she had been thinking for the hundredth time of John North--the man she had once loved and now hated, but in whose honor she had such confidence that she knew he would face death rather than compromise her. In spite of the fact that he had scorned her, had thrown her aside for another, she had had on his account many a soul-rending struggle with her conscience, with her better self. She knew that a word from her, and his prison doors would open to a free world. Time and again this word had trembled on her lips unuttered. She knew also that it was not hate of North that kept her silent. It was an intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear of what might follow after. North, she knew, was innocent; who then was guilty? She closed her eyes and shut her lips. That North would ultimately clear himself she never seriously doubted, and yet the burden of her secret was intolerable. In her present mood, she was accessible to every passing influence, and to-day it was Gilmore's fate to find her both penitent and rebellious, but he could not know this, he only knew that she was quieter than usual. He seated himself at her side, and his eyes, eager and animated, fed on her beauty. He had come to the belief that only the lightest barriers stood between himself and Evelyn Langham, and it was a question in his mind of just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her sake. He boasted nothing in the way of position or reputation, and no act of his could possibly add to the disfavor in which he was already held; but to leave Mount Hope meant certain definite financial losses; this had served as a check on his ardor, for where money was concerned Gilmore was cautious. But his passion was coming to be the supreme thing in his life; a fortunate chance had placed him where he now stood in relation to her, and chance again, as unkind as it had been kind, might separate them. The set of Gilmore's heavy jaws became tense with this thought and with the ruthless strength of his purpose. He would shake down one sensation for Mount Hope before he got away,--and he would not go alone. "I suppose you were at the trial to-day?" Evelyn said. "Yes, I was there for a little while this afternoon," he answered. "It's rather tame yet, they're still fussing over the jury." "How is Jack bearing it?" she asked. Her question seemed to depress Gilmore. "Why do you care about how he takes it? I don't suppose he sees any fun in it,--he didn't look to me as if he did," he said slowly. "But how did he _seem_ to you?" "Oh, he's got nerve enough, if that's what you mean!" "Poor Jack!" she murmured softly. "If you're curious, why don't you go take a look at poor Jack? He'll be there all right for the next few weeks," said the gambler, watching her narrowly. "I'm afraid Marsh might object." At this Gilmore threw back his head and laughed. "Excuse _me_!" he said; and in explanation of his sudden mirth, he added: "The idea of your trotting out Marsh to me!" "I'm not trotting him out to you,--as you call it," Evelyn said quietly, but her small foot tapped the floor. She intended presently to rid herself of Gilmore for all time. "Yes, but I was afraid you were going to." "You mustn't speak to me as you do; I have done nothing to give you the privilege." Gilmore did not seem at all abashed at this reproof. "If you want to go to the trial I'll take you, and I'll agree to make it all right with Marsh afterward; what do you say?" he asked. Evelyn smiled brightly, but she did not explain to him the utter impossibility of their appearing in public together either at the North trial or anywhere else for the matter of that; there were bounds set even to her reckless disregard of what Mount Hope held to be right and proper. "Oh, no, you're very kind, but I don't think I should care to see poor Jack now." She gave a little shiver of horror as if at the mere idea. This was for the gambler, but her real feeling was far deeper than he, suspicious as he was, could possibly know. "Why do you 'poor Jack' him to me?" said Gilmore sullenly. Evelyn opened her fine eyes in apparent astonishment. "He is one of my oldest friends. I have known him all my life!" she said. "Well, one's friends should keep out of the sort of trouble he's made for himself," observed Gilmore in surly tones. "Yes,--perhaps--" answered Evelyn absently. "Look here, I don't want to talk to you about North anyhow; can't we hit on some other topic?" asked Gilmore. It maddened him even to think of the part the accused man had played in her life. "Why have you and Marsh turned against him?" she asked. The gambler considered for an instant. "Do you really want to know? Well, you see he wasn't square; that does a man up quicker than anything else." "I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's so,--ask Marsh; we found him to be an all-right crook; then's when we quit him," he said, nodding and smiling grimly. There was something in his manner which warned her that his real meaning was intentionally obscured. She remembered that Marsh had once boasted of having proof that she was in North's rooms the afternoon of the murder and it flashed across her mind that if any one really knew of her presence there it was Gilmore himself. She studied him furtively, and she observed that his black waxed mustache shaded a pair of lips that wore a mirthless smile, and what had at first been no more than an undefined suspicion grew into a certainty. Gilmore shifted uneasily in his chair. He felt that since their last meeting he had lost ground with her. "What's the matter,--why do you keep me at arm's length; what have I done, anyhow?" he asked impatiently. "Do I keep you at arm's length? Well, perhaps you need to be kept there," she said. "You should know what brings me here,--why it is I can't keep away--" "How should I know, unless you tell me?" she said softly. Gilmore bent toward her, his eyes lustrous with suppressed feeling. "Isn't that another of your little jokes, Evelyn? Do you really want me to tell you?" "I am dying with curiosity!" Voice and manner seemed to encourage, and the gambler felt his heart leap within him. "Well, I guess it's principally to see you!" he muttered, but his lips quivered with emotion. She laughed. "Just see how mistaken one may be, Andy; I thought all along it was Marsh!" At her use of his Christian name his heavy face became radiant. His purposes were usually allied to an admirable directness of speech that never left one long in doubt as to his full meaning. "Look here, aren't you about sick of Marsh?" he asked. "How long are you going to stand for this sort of thing? You have a right to expect something better than he has to offer you!" She met the glance of his burning black eyes with undisturbed serenity, but a cruel smile had come again to the corners of her mouth. She was preparing to settle her score with Gilmore in a fashion he would not soon forget. One of her hands rested on the arm of her chair, and the gambler's ringed fingers closed about it; but apparently she was unaware of this; at least she did not seek to withdraw it. "By God, you're pretty!" he cried. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. "Mean,--don't you know that I love you? Have I got to make it plain that I care for you,--that you are everything to me?" he asked, bending toward her. "So you care a great deal about me, do you, Andy?" she asked slowly. "I like to hear you call me that!" he said with a deep breath. "What is it, Andy--what do you want?" she continued. "You--you!" he said hoarsely; his face was white, he had come to the end of long days of hope and doubt; he had battered down every obstacle that stood in his path and he was telling her of his love, nor did she seem unwilling to hear him. "You are the whole thing to me! I have loved you always--ever since I first saw you! Tell me you'll quit this place with me--I swear I'll make you happy--" His face was very close to hers, and guessing his purpose she snatched away her hand. Then she laughed. As the sound of her merriment fell on Gilmore's startled ears, there swiftly came to him the consciousness that something was wrong. "You and your love-making are very funny, Mr. Gilmore; but there is one thing you don't seem to understand. There is such a thing as taste in selection even when it has ceased to be a matter of morals. I don't like you, Mr. Gilmore. You amused me, but you are merely tiresome now." She spoke with deliberate contempt, and his face turned white and then scarlet, as if under the sting of a lash. "If you were a man--" he began, infuriated by the insolence of her speech. "If I were a man I should be quite able to take care of myself. Understand, I am seeing you for the last time--" "Yes, by God, you are!" he cried. His face was ashen. He had come to his feet, shaken and uncertain. It was as if each word of hers had been a stab. "I am glad we can agree so perfectly on that point. Will you kindly close the hail door as you go out?" She turned from him and took up a book from the table at her elbow. Gilmore moved toward the door, but paused irresolutely. His first feeling of furious rage was now tempered by a sense of coming loss. This was to be the end; he was never to see her again! He swung about on his heel. She was already turning the leaves of her book, apparently oblivious of his presence. "Am I to believe you--" he faltered. She looked up and her eyes met his. There was nothing in her glance to indicate that she comprehended the depth of his suffering. "Yes," she said, with a drawing in of her full lips. "When I leave you--if you really mean that--it will be to leave Mount Hope!" said he appealingly. The savage vigor that was normally his had deserted him, his very pride was gone; a sudden mistrust of himself was humbling him; he felt wretchedly out of place; he was even dimly conscious of his own baseness while he was for the moment blinded to the cruelty of her conduct. Under his breath he cursed himself. By his too great haste, by a too great frankness he had fooled away his chances with her. "That is more than I dared hope," Evelyn rejoined composedly. "If I've offended you--" began Gilmore. "Your presence offends me," she interrupted and looked past him to the door. "You don't mean what you say--Evelyn--" he said earnestly. "My cook might have been flattered by your proposal; but why you should have thought I would be, is utterly incomprehensible." Gilmore's face became livid on the instant. A storm of abuse rushed to his lips but he held himself in check. Then without a word or a glance he passed from the room. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE HOUSE OF CARDS The long day had been devoted to the choosing of the twelve men who should say whether John North was innocent or guilty, but at last court adjourned and Marshall Langham, pushing through the crowd that was emptying itself into the street, turned away in the direction of his home. For no single instant during the day had he been able to take his eyes from his father's face. He had heard almost nothing of what was said, it was only when the coldly impersonal tones of the judge's voice reached him out of, what was to him silence, that he was stung to a full comprehension of what was going on about him. The faces of the crowd had blended until they were as indistinguishable as the face of humanity itself. For him there had been but the one tragic presence in that dingy room; and now--as the dull gray winter twilight enveloped him,--wherever he turned his eyes, on the snow-covered pavement, in the bare branches of the trees,--there he saw, endlessly repeated, the white drawn face of his father. His capacity for endurance seemed to measure itself against the slow days. A week--two weeks--and the trial would end, but how? If the verdict was guilty, North's friends would still continue their fight for his life. He must sustain himself beyond what he felt to be the utmost limit of his powers; and always, day after day, there would be that face with its sunken eyes and bloodless lips, to summon him into its presence. He found himself at his own door, and paused uncertainly. He passed a tremulous hand before his eyes. Was he sure of Gilmore,--was he sure of Evelyn, who must know that North was innocent? The thought of her roused in him all his bitter sense of hurt and injury. North had trampled on his confidence and friendship! The lines of his face grew hard. This was to be his revenge,--his by every right, and his fears should rob him of no part of it! He pushed open the door and entered the unlighted hail, then with a grumbled oath because of the darkness, passed on into the sitting-room. Except for such light as a bed of soft coal in the grate gave out, the room was clothed in uncertainty. He stumbled against a chair and swore again savagely. He was answered by a soft laugh, and then he saw Evelyn seated in the big arm-chair at one side of the fireplace. "Did you hurt yourself, Marsh?" she asked. Langham growled an unintelligible reply and dropped heavily into a chair. He brought with him the fumes of whisky and stale tobacco, and as these reached her across the intervening space Evelyn made a little grimace in the half light. "I declare, Marsh, you are hardly fit to enter a respectable house!" she said. In spite of his doubt of her, they were not on the worst of terms, there were still times when he resumed his old role of the lover, when he held her drifting fancy in something of the potent spell he had once been able to weave about her. Whatever their life together, it was far from commonplace, with its poverty and extravagance, its quarrelings and its reconciliations, while back of it all, deep-rooted in the very dregs of existence, was his passionate love. Even his brutal indifference was but one of the many phases of his love; it was a manifestation of his revolt against his sense of dependence, a dependence which made it possible for him to love where his faith was destroyed and his trust gone absolutely. Evelyn was vaguely conscious of this and she was not sure but that she required just such a life as theirs had become, but that she would have been infinitely bored with a man far more worth while than Marshall Langham. From his seat by the fire Langham scowled across at her, but the scowl was lost in the darkness. "Your father was here last evening, Marsh," Evelyn said at length, remembering she had not seen him the night before, and that he had breakfasted and gone before she was up that morning. "What did he come for?" her husband asked. "I think to see you. Poor man, he doesn't seem able to get the run of the hours you keep; I told him he could always find you here between four and eight in the morning. I must say this little insight into your domestic habits appeared to distress him, but I tried to comfort him,--I told him you would probably outlive us all." She laughed softly. "Andy was here this afternoon, Marsh," she went on. "What the devil did he want?" "I don't know." "Is he coming back?" "He didn't mention it, if he is." And again she laughed. Langham moved impatiently; her low full-throated mirth jarred on his somber mood. "Were you in court to-day, Marsh?" she inquired, after a short silence. "Yes," he answered briefly. "Were there many there?" "Yes." "Any ladies, Marsh?" she questioned, with sudden eagerness. "If you can call them that," he growled. "Do you know, Marsh, I had a strong impulse to go, too. Would you have been astonished to see me there?" she asked tentatively. "We won't have any of that,--do you understand?" he said with fierce authority. "Why not? It's as right for me as it is for any one else, isn't it?" "I won't _have_ it!" he said, lifting his voice slightly. She had risen and now stood leaning against the arm of his chair. "Marsh, he didn't kill McBride; he couldn't,--he wouldn't harm a mouse!" Her words set him raging. "Keep quiet, will you,--what do you know about it, anyhow?" he cried with sullen ferocity. "Don't be rude, Marsh! So you don't want me to come to the trial,--you tell me I can't?" "Did my father say anything about this matter,--the trial, I mean?" asked Langham haltingly. "Yes, I think he spoke of it, but I really wasn't interested because you see I am so sure John North is innocent!" He caught one of her hands in his and drew her down on the arm of his chair where he could look into her eyes. "There is just one question I want to ask you, Evelyn, but I expect you'll answer it as you choose," he said, with his face close to hers. "Then why ask it?" she said. "Why,--because I want to know. Where were you on the day of the murder,--between five and six o'clock?" "I _wish_ you'd let me go, Marsh; you're hurting me--" she complained. She struggled for a moment to release herself from his grasp, then realizing that her effort was of no avail, she quietly resumed her former position on the arm of his chair. "You must answer my question, come--where were you?" Langham commanded. He brought his face close to hers and she saw that his eyes burnt with an unhealthy light. "How silly of you, Marsh, you know it was Thanksgiving day,--that we dined with your father." "I am not asking you about that,--that was later!" "I suppose I was on my way there at the hour you mention." "No, you weren't; you were in North's rooms!" "If you were not drunk, I should be angry with you, Marsh,--you are insulting--" He quitted his hold on her and staggered to his feet. "You were with North--" he roared. "Do you want the servants to hear you?" she asked in an angry whisper. "Hell!" He made a step toward her, his hand raised. "Don't do that, Marsh. I should never forgive you!" Evelyn faced him, meeting his wild glance with unshaken composure. The clenched hand fell at his side. "My God, I ought to kill you!" he muttered. She made him no answer, but kept her eyes fixed steadily on his face. "You _were_ with North!" Langham repeated. "Well, since you wish me to say it, I was with John North, but what of that?" "In his rooms--" he jerked out. "No,--now you are asking too much of me!" "I have proof,--proof, that you went to his rooms that day!" he stormed. "I did nothing of the sort, and I am not going to quarrel with you while you are drunk!" Drunk he was, but not as she understood drunkenness. In the terrible extremity to which his crime had brought him he was having recourse to drugs. "You say you have proof,--don't be absurd, Marsh, you know you haven't!" she added uneasily. "You were with North in his rooms--" he insisted. He was conscious of a strange wonder at himself that he could believe this, and yet aside from such gusts of rage as these, his doubt of her made no difference in their life together. Surely this was the measure of his degradation. "I am not going to discuss this matter with you!" Evelyn said. "Aren't you? Well, I guess you will. Do you know you may be summoned into court?" "Why?" she demanded, with a nervous start. "North may want to prove that he was in his rooms at the hour the murder is supposed to have been committed; all he needs is your testimony,--it would make a nice scandal, wouldn't it?" "Has he asked this?" Evelyn questioned. "Not yet!" "Then I don't think he ever will," she said quietly. "Do you suppose he will be fool enough to go to the penitentiary, or hang, to save _your_ reputation?" Langham asked harshly. "I think Jack North would be almost fool enough for that," she answered with conviction. "Well, I don't,--you were too easy,--men don't risk their necks for your sort!" he mocked. "Look here, you had an infatuation for North,--you admitted it,--only this time it went too far! What was the trouble, did he get sick of the business and throw you over?" "How coarse you are, Marsh!" and she colored angrily, not at his words, however, but at the memory of that last meeting with North. "It's a damn rotten business, and I'll call it by what name I please! If you are summoned, it will be your word against his; you have told me you were not in his rooms--" "I was _not_ there--" she said, and as she said it she wondered why she did not tell the truth, admit the whole thing and have it over with. She was tired of the wrangling, and her hatred of North had given way to pity, yet when Langham replied: "All right. You are my wife, and North can hang, but he shan't save himself by ruining you if _I_ can help it!" She answered: "I have told you that I wasn't there, Marsh." "Would you swear that you weren't there?" Langham asked eagerly. "Yes--" "Even if it sent him to the penitentiary?" he persisted. "Yes." He took her by the shoulders and drew her near to him that he might look deep into her eyes. "Even if it hanged him?" he rasped out. She felt his hot breath on her cheek; she looked into his face, fierce, cruel, with the insane selfishness of his one great fear. "Answer me,--would you let him hang?" and he shook her roughly. "Would I let him hang--" she repeated. "Yes--" "I--I don't know!" she said in a frightened whisper. "No, damn you, I can't trust you!" and he flung her from him. There was a brief silence. The intangible, unformed, unthoughtout fear that had kept her silent was crystallizing into a very tangible conviction. Marshall had expressed more than the mere desire to be revenged on North, she saw that he was swayed by the mastering emotion of fear, rather than by his blazing hate of the suspected man. Slowly but surely there came to her an understanding of his swift descent during the last months. "Marsh--" she began, and hesitated. A scarcely articulate snarl from Langham seemed to encourage her to go on. "Marsh, where does the money come from that you--that we--have been spending so lavishly this winter?" "From my practice," he said, but his face was averted. She gave a frightened laugh. "Oh, no, Marsh, I know better than that!" He swung about on her. "Well," he stormed, "what do you know?" "Hush, Marsh!" she implored, in sudden terror of him. He gave her a sullen glare. "Oh, very well, bring the whole damn thing rattling down about our ears!" he cried. "Marsh,--what do you mean? Do you know that John North is innocent?" She spoke with terrifying deliberation. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes. The delicate pallor deepened on her face, and she sank half fainting into a chair, but her accusing gaze was still fixed on Langham. He strode to her side, and his hand gripped hers with a cruel force. "Let him prove that he is innocent if he can, but without help from you! You keep still no matter what happens, do you hear? Or God knows where this thing will end--or how!" "Marsh, what am I to think!" "You can think what you like so long as you keep still--" There was a hesitating step in the hall, the door was pushed open, and Judge Langham paused on the threshold. "May I come in?" he said. Neither spoke, and his uneasy glance shifted back and forth from husband to wife. In that wordless instant their common knowledge manifested itself to each one of the three. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO GOOD MEN AND TRUE The North trial was Mount Hope's one vital sensation. Day after day the courtroom was filled with eager perspiring humanity, while in their homes, on the streets, and in the stores men talked of little else. As for North himself, he was conscious of a curious sense of long acquaintance with the courtroom; its staring white walls and crowded benches seemed his accustomed surroundings, and here, with a feeling that was something between fear and weariness, he followed each stage of the elaborate game Judge Belknap, for the defense, and Moxlow, for the prosecution, were playing, the game that had his life for its stake. When court adjourned, always in the twilight of those mid-winter afternoons, there were his brief comforting interviews with Elizabeth; and then the long solitary evenings in his cell; and the longer nights, restless and disturbed. The strain told fearfully on his vigor of body and mind, his face under imprisonment's pallid mask, became gaunt and heavily lined, while his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. At first he had not believed that an innocent man could be punished for a crime of which he had no knowledge; he was not so sure of this now, for the days slipped past and the prosecution remained firmly intrenched behind certain facts which were in their way, conclusive. He told himself with grim humor that the single weak strand in the rope Moxlow was seeking to fit about his neck was this, that after all was said and proved, the fact remained, he had not killed Archibald McBride! When the last witness for the state had been examined, North took the stand in his own behalf. His cross-examination was concluded one dull February day, and there came a brief halt in the rapid progress of the trial; the jury was sent from the room while Moxlow and Belknap prepared instructions and submitted them to the court. The judge listened wearily, his sunken cheek resting against the palm of his thin hand, and his gaze fixed on vacancy; when he spoke his voice was scarcely audible. Once he paused in the middle of a sentence as his glance fell on the heavy upturned face of his son, for he saw fear and entreaty written on the close-drawn lips and in the bloodshot eyes. A little later in the twilight North, with the sheriff at his elbow, walked down the long corridor on his way to the jail. The end was close at hand, a day or two more and his fate would be decided. The hopelessness of the situation appalled him, stupified him. The evidence of his guilt seemed overwhelming; he wondered how Elizabeth retained her faith in him. He always came back to his thought of her, and that which had once been his greatest joy now only filled him with despair. Why had he ever spoken of his love,--what if this grim farce in which he was a hapless actor blundered on to a tragic close! He would have made any sacrifice had it been possible for him to face the situation alone, but another life was bound up with him; he would drag her down in the ruin that had overtaken him, and when it was all past and forgotten, she would remember,--the horror of it would fill her days! On that night, as on many another, North retraced step by step the ugly path that wound its tortuous way from McBride's back office to the cell in which he--John North--faced the gallows. But the oftener he trod this path the more maze-like it became, until now he was hopelessly lost in its intricacies; discouraged, dazed, confused, almost convinced that in some blank

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. 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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. 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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. 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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. 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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

jane

How many times the word 'jane' appears in the text?

G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

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G.I. Jane Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS G.I. JANE by David Twohy FIRST DRAFT August 6, 1995 FADE IN: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Blinding in their white uniforms, naval flag officers sit in the audience, showing their support for THEODORE HAYES, a 50-year-old civilian. This is his confirmation hearing. Reading from prepared material: HAYES ... last few years have brought many advances in the interests of women in naval service, particularly in the land-based maritime specialties. What's more, the Navy has instituted special sensitivity courses with an eye on -- DEHAVEN Whoa, whoa, whoa. "Land-based maritime specialties." Gimme a second here to de-euphemize that... At the center of a dais, LILLIAN DEHAVEN leans back to ponder the ceiling of the hearing room. Her plaque card reads "CHAIRPERSON -- SENATE ARMS COMMITTEE." DeHaven is a tough-hided old Southern belle, Scarlett O'Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades -- and she's apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim. DEHAVEN Would that be anything like "typing"? "Restocking the cupboards"? That sort of thing, Mr. Hayes? CHUCKLES from the packed gallery. The flag officers go stone-faced. Hayes forces a smile. HAYES Hardly the case, Senator. DEHAVEN Well, I'm just an old dame without much time left, so you'll pardon me if I jump right in here before they discontinue my blood-type. I am deeply concerned over the Navy's seemingly incontrovertible attitude toward women in the military. Case in point... On cue, aides begin distributing reports to other members of the dais. Hayes gets a copy, too. And it jars him. DEHAVEN "The Lark Report." HAYES Madam Senator... this is an internal document of the U.S. Navy. I must seriously question whether -- DEHAVEN (to others on panel) The Navy's conclusion regarding the crash of an F-14 aboard an aircraft carrier. Female aviator, it just so happens. (to Hayes) You're familiar with this report and its conclusion, am I right? HAYES I was one member of the investigating commission. DEHAVEN Yes, I see your signature right here -- twice the size of everyone else's. And your conclusion was "pilot error," hmm? HAYES I'm really not prepared for any kind of in-depth review of -- DEHAVEN I'd like to think our next Secretary of the Navy would be prepared for anything, Mr. Hayes. A humorless smile. She's roasting his nuts over an open fire, and everyone knows it. HAYES The commission concluded that the aviator in question failed to execute a proper approach to the carrier. DEHAVEN That aside for the moment, I'm struck by the tenor, the ill-spirit of your report... the degrading remarks by other aviators... innuendo about her performance in unrelated situations... even a reference to her sexual activity the weekend prior. (closing report) In my seven years on this committee, I've never seen a downed aviator treated like this. Never. I'm deeply disturbed by this report, Mr. Hayes. Not just what it bodes for women in the military -- but for your own confirmation as well. INT. CORRIDOR - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Heading for her office, DeHaven is escorted by a small PRESS RETINUE. DEHAVEN ... a full 35 percent of all jobs in the U.S. military are still, to this day, off-limits to women. And that's simply gotta change. PRESS #1 What about those who say women aren't suited for all jobs? That they're physically weaker... they have less stamina... DEHAVEN Sure. And we're gonna hog the bathroom, too. DEHAVEN'S AIDE catches up, pulls her aside. DEHAVEN'S AIDE White House boys want a private meeting. DEHAVEN I'll act surprised. INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Shoes dumped on her desk, DeHaven changes out knee-high stockings while devoting one ear to... WHITE HOUSE #1 ... to reassure you that he has every faith in the ability of Mr. Hayes to guide the Navy into the next century. The task, as the Administration sees it, is to acknowledge changing realities without losing traditional values. A beat. DeHaven looks between the two WHITE HOUSE boys -- #1 young and eager, #2 older and cagier. DEHAVEN 'Zat it? Ten minutes, nothin' on the table? Sweetcakes, you best go back to the President and tell him to open up the phone book and start lookin' for his next nominee. White House #1 looks spanked. Taking over, #2 pops a briefcase. An inch-think report appears before DeHaven. WHITE HOUSE #2 Administration's plan for 100 percent integration. If female candidates measure up in a series of test cases, the President will support full integration within three years' time. Surprised -- maybe even startled -- DeHaven flips through the report, absorbing by osmosis. WHITE HOUSE #2 It's your gender-blind Navy, Senator. Surely you're not going to balk now. DEHAVEN Well, it's just that askin' you all to integrate the Navy is like sending a man to do a woman's job. (a beat) How do you propose to handle the Combat Exclusion Laws? WHITE HOUSE #2 Keep narrowing the definitions. Keep redefining. WHITE HOUSE #1 We got around it in Saudi Arabia. DEHAVEN By calling women "Honorary Men." Ingenious. WHITE HOUSE #2 C'mon, Senator, President's pitchin' right down the center of your plate. If women measure up to men, they've got the job. You going to take a swing? Or step out of the box? DeHaven riffles the edges of the report, thinking it over. Thinking light years ahead. EXT. CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY Buttoning up topcoats, the White House boys move down marble steps to reach a pair of limousines. Hayes and two FLAG OFFICERS wait. HAYES Well? WHITE HOUSE #2 (shaking hand) Congratulations, Mr. Secretary. INT. HAYES' LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside the moving car: HAYES So she picks the women, we pick the programs. Seals? FLAG OFFICER #1 I'd go Special Reconnaissance. Every bit as tough -- and we have a 60 percent drop-out rate among the men. HAYES Then I suggest we start there. FLAG OFFICER #1 Doesn't matter who she picks. No woman is going to last one week in a commando training course. And I don't care who it is. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Winterscape: Dotted with ice floes, the Potomac wends through the capitol city, banks iridescent with snow, morning water calm. There's an almost hallowed beauty to it all. Soon we pick out... A spot of day-glo. Coming out of the mouth of morning. Overtaking the floes. CLOSER on JORDAN O'NEIL. She pushes her flat-water kayak downriver, paddling hard and clean, making good time. Gliding through the graceful arches of the Arlington bridge, she passes... Cars overhead. Grid-locked by snow conditions. In seconds Jordan paddles clear, leaving the traffic behind as she heads toward the Washington Monument. Something BURRS from a life-vest pocket. She rips through velcro to free a cell phone. JORDAN Lieutenant O'Neil. ROYCE (V.O.) Gotta situation here. Where are you? Stuck in traffic? JORDAN (checking dive watch) Not due in for 22 minutes, sir. Watcha got? INT. SITUATION ROOM - N.I.C. - DAY ROYCE All right, stand by, we're going to switch over to COMSAT... A TACTICAL OFFICER reroutes the call via defense satellite, cryptography flashing on terminals. Lieutenant Commander ROBERT ROYCE joins other Intel officers at a conference table. They're pouring over weather charts, navigation logs, high-altitude NRO video. TACTICAL OFFICER Voice-system now secure... ROYCE (into speaker) Okay, fresh stuff: Lost a NATO plane over the Sea of Japan. ELB signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the North Korean shore, near a fishing village, "Tamyung." JORDAN (V.O.) Do we know it's him using the beacon? Not a decoy? ROYCE Signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries. JORDAN (V.O.) Chances of recovery? ROYCE You're the analyst for East China, O'Neil. Analyze. EXT. POTOMAC RIVER - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY Riding the current, Jordan blows a troubled sigh as she accesses the file of her brain. Drifting past the Jefferson Memorial: JORDAN North Korean beaches are the best protected, most heavily monitored in the world. The civilian population is so propagandized that it acts as an Early Warning system. Extraction team has to be small and silent -- I'd go with Seals over Delta Force. Problem is, don't want to hold a conventional sub off-shore for target practice. Where's The Polk? INTERCUTTING: ROYCE Halfway 'round the world. So that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out. JORDAN (an inspired beat) Unless you Whiskey Run. ROYCE Blank faces here, O'Neil. JORDAN Quick-hit technique used by Capone. Rigged a getaway car with running boards and handles. All his guys had to do was jump on and take a ride. Check the files -- DPRK-57 -- I doped it out as a contingency plan: Seal Team infiltrates, picks up the package, links up with recovery sub. But don't waste time opening and closing hatches. They just grab the periscope and hang on for neutral waters. A dubious beat. ROYCE You expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? Is that correct, O'Neil? JORDAN Only four minutes to neutral waters, sir. Why not? Silence on the radio: They're discussing her scenario privately. During, Jordan's kayak reaches the junction of the Potomac and the Anacostia rivers. On the far bank lies... Naval Intel Center (N.I.C.), bristling with communication antennae. Jordan stares at the complex, waiting for a response. ROYCE All right, sending the recommendation across the river. Royce out. The phone goes dead. JORDAN No, thank you, sir. EXT. SECURITY STATION - N.I.C. - DAY Bundled in topcoat and scarves, military and civilian employees transit a security station on their way inside. Presently Jordan appears -- wearing a wetsuit and balancing a collapsed kayak on her head. She flashes a photo-badge and double-times inside. INT. CORRIDOR - N.I.C. - DAY Jordan exits a locker room. Smoothing out her Khaki uniform, she heads down a broad corridor with cipher-lock doors. Falling in step: ROYCE That was good headwork, lieutenant. JORDAN Thank you, sir. We hear back from the Pentagon? ROYCE (scoffing) Probably hear back from CNN first. JORDAN Hate this part. Just sweating it out on the sidelines. ROYCE Intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle. Now they reach... INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY A circular chamber. Dominating the ground floor is the bullpen, a hive of cubicles an computer stations. On the second floor are executive offices, ringing the bullpen. ROYCE By the way, I'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so I can review it with Admiral Hanover. And do we have any of that breakfast tea around here? JORDAN (with a look) Is this my glory, sir? On the upper walkway, a frazzled N.I.C. SECRETARY appears. She spots Royce and Jordan below. N.I.C. SECRETARY Excuse me, but I have Senator DeHaven on the line for you. ROYCE Jesus God, what now? He bounds up the stairs toward his office. N.I.C. SECRETARY I'm sorry, sir no -- she asked to speak with Lieutenant O'Neil. Royce turns back and gives Jordan a hall-of-fame look. "Oh, really?" INT. DEHAVEN'S OFFICE - CAPITOL BLDG. - DAY DEHAVEN (into phone) So everyone I talk to says you're top drawer with silk stockings inside. JORDAN (V.O.) Thank you, ma'am. Um, may I ask what this is regarding? DEHAVEN (reading file) High-school pentathlete... ROTC scholarship, graduated with honors... top marks in Basic Training... and, as it just so happens, a constituent of my home state of Virginia. Oh, the things I'll do for one extra vote. INT. BULLPEN - N.I.C. - DAY On the phone, Jordan glances around. Co-workers mull within earshot. Those out of earshot post E-mail memos on Jordan's computer: "Moving up in life." "I want a full report." "Don't tell her who you really voted for." DEHAVEN Lieutenant O'Neil, I am prepared to nominate you for the Navy's Special Reconnaissance program. Should you accept, you'll ship out to Coronado next week and join in the big testosterone festival. Complete the course, and you'll have a fast ticket to any assignment you want. That's my personal promise to you. A beat as Jordan's mind catches up to her ears. Now INTERRCUTTING the two: JORDAN "Coronado." DEHAVEN California. JORDAN I know that, sir. Ma'am. It's just that... Beggin' your pardon, Senator, but... do you understand that this involves combat training? DEHAVEN This is just a test case, O'Neil. But if it works out -- if you work out -- it could well change the Navy's official policy on women in combat. Or, actually, its official non-policy. Now who's your immediate superior there? JORDAN Captain Dwyer. Technically. DEHAVEN My office will fill him in and help expedite. Look forward to meeting you at the proper time. Jumping off now... JORDAN Uh, question, ma'am. DEHAVEN Yes, dear. JORDAN Would I be the only one? The only woman? DEHAVEN There'll be more to follow -- but yes, dear, right now you're the pick of a very large litter. And your success would mean a lot. Jumping, now... The line goes dead. Jordan hangs up catatonically. JORDAN Well, shit-a-doodle-do... EXT. GUNKHOLE HARBOR - POTOMAC - NIGHT A small gunkhole harbor up the Potomac. Snow falls thick and silent on overturned canoes, stored for the winter. Beyond stands a clapboard rental house. INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT It's not so much furnished as equipped -- scuba gear and wetsuits in the mud room, life vests on coat racks, a training bag and boxing gloves hanging in the living room. In the kitchen we find... A naked man. He's steeping tea. JORDAN (O.S.) ... well, I survived Basic Training and three brothers -- so I know how to fight. What scares me are the sexual politics. I don't want to be turned into some poster girl for women's rights. CAMERA FOLLOWS as the naked man carries a steaming mug through the house... INT. BATHROOM - JORDAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT ... and sets it down beside Jordan, languishing in a tub. Snow builds on a window sill. Facing Jordan, the man slides into the tub. ROYCE So why're you even considering it? Are you? JORDAN Just like you would be. ROYCE Spec-Recon. Those guys are world- class warriors. And they will not want you there, Jordan. JORDAN I take it you don't either. Feet. Dutifully, Royce massages her feet. ROYCE Well, you're doin' shit-hot at Intel. JORDAN Royce. We're the same age, we started the same time -- and now you're sitting in the upperdecks while I'm still down in the bullpen. What does that tell you about the Navy? ROYCE (shaking head) She's haze grey and underway... JORDAN You need operational duty to really advance... you need combat training to go operational... yet combat training is off-limits to people with tits. I'm topped out at Intel. Forget the glass ceiling -- I'm beating my head on a big brass ceiling. ROYCE So dump on me. JORDAN This has nothing to do with you. ROYCE (getting out) Well, guess I don't even need to be here... JORDAN Get your dick back here. It has everything to do with you. ROYCE You're such a ball-breaker sometimes. Especially at night. JORDAN Sorry. But after our days... (a thoughtful sip) So if I try this thing... if I ship out to Coronado... what happens here? ROYCE I'll try to keep the door open. If you wash out, I make it so that -- JORDAN Wai', wait. What happens if it works? Four months of training, three years of operational duty. What then? ROYCE (blowing a sigh) I don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, Jordan. Maybe we should just let it happen. JORDAN Which is guy-speak for... ROYCE (conceding) Sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I'm trying to be honest, okay? Three years is a long time. Don't ask me to predict how I'll feel then, Jordan, because I don't know. And either do you. JORDAN You know, right up until you said that -- I thought I did know. Wounded, she gets out. ROYCE Jordan... JORDAN Thank you, Royce. It was shaping up like such a tough call -- and then you go and make it so goddamn easy. Really, thank you so much. She punches into a robe and leaves. Royce considers drowning himself in the tub. EXT. CORONADO BRIDGE - SAN DIEGO - DAY Jordan drives a top-down Mustang across the sweeping Coronado Bridge, cityscape behind her, naval base ahead. A flock of pelicans pace Jordan alongside the bridge. Suddenly two NAVY HELOS BLAST overhead, scattering the pelicans. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY On base, Jordan carries a gunnysack across an asphalt courtyard. The is "the grinder," reminiscent of a gladiator's arena. She notices at one end... A silver ship's bell. Hung prominently. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY JORDAN Excuse me, lieutenant. I was told this is where I check in. A DUTY OFFICER looks up to find Jordan across a counter. In no particular hurry, the duty officer makes his way over to check Jordan's orders. DUTY OFFICER (looking up) So you're the one. Hearing, other workers look up. Among them is a female ensign, KATHY BLONDELL -- no makeup, no nail polish, no concession to her sex. Throughout, she'll watch Jordan with more than passing interest. JORDAN Still don't have my bearings yet. Direct me to the officer's quarters? The duty officer stamps her paperwork, returns it with room assignment and keys. DUTY OFFICER You'll proceed directly to the infirmary for eye tests, blood tests, urinalysis, pregnancy test. Uniform issue adjacent. Then you're to report to the Base Commander. He'd like a word with you. JORDAN Fine. And the officer's quarters? DUTY OFFICER C.O.'s office can supply you with directions. Enjoy your visit, lieutenant. It's a nasty little barb -- one that Jordan decides to let slide. Jordan turns for the door. Blondell catches up with a base map. BLONDELL B.O.Q., south side. Take a starboard tack out the door. JORDAN Thank you, ensign. BLONDELL No problem, lieutenant. INT. C.O.'S OFFICE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY A soft KNOCKING. C.O. Come. A YEOMAN opens the door. Behind him is Jordan. YEOMAN Lieutenant j.g. O'Neil reporting, sir. For a beat, COMMANDING OFFICER (C.O.) TURRENTINE takes stock of the female in his doorway, sizing her up like a fighter across the ring. Then he stubs out a perfectly good cigar, rises with an amiable face, and touches the back of a chair -- stopping just short of pulling it out for her. C.O. Yes, of course. Please, have a seat, lieutenant... JORDAN Thank you, sir. C.O. Would you care for a beverage? Tea? JORDAN I'm fine, sir. C.O. So. We're still coming to terms with the exact protocol for this -- for integrating the Spec-Recon training. It may not always be smooth, but we're trying to make it as painless as possible for you. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I expect a certain amount of pain. More stock-taking. Is he looking at her hair? JORDAN Barber was my next stop, sir. Would've had it regulation sooner, only -- C.O. Don't worry about it. If it's off your collar and out of your eyes, that's all I'm going to ask. JORDAN Really, I have no problem with -- C.O. I'm not out to change your sex, lieutenant. You'll have separate beds, separate heads. If you have specific medical needs, inform the infirmary. If a classmate or superior acts in an harassing or otherwise unbecoming manner, please inform me immediately so I can deal with it immediately. Questions? JORDAN None at this time, sir. C.O. Then that's all I have to say. Dismissed. Another smile, another phantom gesture on the back of her chair. If Jordan was expecting a fight, the bell never sounded. She rises, salutes -- then turns back at the door. JORDAN Sir, I just want you to know... I'm not here to make a statement. I don't want to make men look foolish. All I care about is completing the training and getting operational experience -- just like everyone else, I suspect. C.O. If you were like everyone else, lieutenant, I suspect we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements, would we? (a beat) Take your leave. EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY The Spec-Recon TRAINEES loiter outside their open rooms, pumping weights, hosing down dive gear, trading Walkman tapes. This is the last day of liberty they'll have for a long time. MILLER What am I scannin' here? Other eyes quickly lock in on... Jordan. Across a grass courtyard, she walks the ground floor of an identical building, trying to match key number to room number. Every door is open, every room empty. Soon she feels the presence of... The men. They're disgorging from their rooms -- ten, twenty, thirty of them -- all buffed and cut. These guys are what Hitler saw in his dreams. Jordan picks up her pace. Where the hell is her room? On all three levels of their building, the men shadow Jordan en masse. Not hooting. Not leering. Just assessing. Jordan finds her room at the far corner of the building: She's got the entire floor to herself. With a last look over her shoulder, Jordan vanishes inside. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY C.O. Special Reconnaissance. Here you will be trained to infiltrate hostile territory... to be the real- time eyes on the ground... to recover assigned targets and, if need be, to fight your way out under adverse conditions. CAMERA SURVEYS faces of the trainees: MILLER, MCCOOL, SLUTNIK, CORTEZ, FLEA, STAMM, ENGLAND, NEWBERRY, WICKWIRE. We'll get to know them later. Dressed in Navy greens, they stand in formation -- ten rows, ten deep, helmets in hand. Pacing before them: C.O. That is all that will be said about the special nature of this class -- by us or by you. Many of you have waited years for admission to this program. Opportunities like this are rare -- and those who seize upon them are rarer still. He approaches Jordan. We can tell what she's thinking. "Just keep moving. Don't single me out." C.O. Other than that, there is little to be said but "Good luck, gentleman." (correcting) "Gentlepersons." Jordan flinches. C.O. Now I turn you over to the chief training officer. He has earned six naval commendations, the purple heart, and the Navy Cross for heroism and valor. I give you Master Chief John James Urgayle. Taking over, THE CHIEF stands before the class a moment, sizing them up while giving them -- get an eyeload of him, too: His body is 30 years old, his face 40, his eyes 50. An ageless warrior. Somewhere, the blood of Ulysses runs in this guy's veins. The Chief lifts a bullhorn to deliver his opening salvo -- and it's anything but the kick-ass rant the class is expecting: THE CHIEF The sun and moon... the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides... global warming... the very angle of the Earth upon its axis... these are just some of the things I control in my world. Trainees swap private looks. MCCOOL We're fucked. SLUTNIK Darth Vader reads poetry... MCCOOL We are so fucked. EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - DAY START on boots, crashing through shallow surf, spraying water. We assume this is a routine beach run -- until VIEW RISES to reveal... Telephone poles on their shoulder. Working in groups of 10, trainees labor under 300-pound poles. Jordan, six inches shorter than most, looks like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. But she's doing it. INSTRUCTOR Count down... one, two... count down... three, four... CLASS CADENCE One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four... An ambulance shadows the class. Perched on the front bumper like an hood-ornament, the Chief keeps working his bullhorn: THE CHIEF You may think that you are the brightest, the best, the strongest. I assure you, that is a total delusion on your part. It is my job to show you just how weak human beings can truly be. 60 percent of you will not finish this course. How do I know? Because that is an historical fact. It's also intimidating shit. THE CHIEF Poles down. The earth literally shakes as the phone poles hit the damp sand. Approaching on foot, the Chief loads fresh batteries into his bullhorn. He does it like a man thumbing rounds into a shotgun. THE CHIEF Now for the bad new: I always like to get one quitter on the first day. And until I do, the first day does not end. So look around right now -- go on, do it. I wonder who it's gonna be... He passes right by Jordan, never meeting her eyes. INSTRUCTOR PYRO steps up. He's the Chief's bulldog. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Down to BVDs! The guys strip down to boxers. Jordan settles for boxers and jog bra. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Now face the Pacific... link arms... and take a stroll! The class wades in. The first wave takes Jordan's breath away: It's February, and the water is cold. When they move out of instructors' earshot: STAMM What is it with the damn phone poles? We sign up for Spec-Recon or GTE? WICKWIRE Just trying to thin the herd. That's all they want to do right now. Some of the guys are glancing Jordan's way, cashing in on a cheap wet T-shirt contest. Jordan covers herself instinctively -- and hates the instinct. Modesty isn't going to get her through this. SLUTNIK Man. Doesn't she know it's rude to point? NEWBERRY Wow. You see that girl? WICKWIRE I got eyes, Newberry. SLUTNIK One night. Just one night in my room, she'd forget all about playin' commando. ENGLAND Tone that shit down, Slutnik. You heard with they said. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Out of the water! The class breaks for the beach. THE CHIEF Now make like sugar cookies and roll in the sand for me. The trainees hit their bellies and roll. Indeed, they look like sugar cookies. THE CHIEF Collect those poles, gentlemen. Still a lotta beachfront you haven't seen... Groaning, the trainees grab poles. Jordan's pole, wet slips from their collective grasp... And bangs Stamm's ankle. He HOWLS through his teeth. ENGLAND How bad? Stamm? JORDAN We better get a medic over -- STAMM No, goddamnit. No. INSTRUCTOR Up! Up! Up! Up! Stamm swallows the pain. Poles go back on shoulders. Looking like drunk centipedes, the class staggers off down the beach. EXT. MUD PIT - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY Wallowing in mud, the class does belly-busters, atomic sit-ups -- and the sadistic reverse push-up, where trainees lie of their backs, place hands under shoulder blades and push their crotches skyward. THE CHIEF Pain is your friend. You ally. It will keep you awake in times of emergency... it will tell you when you are seriously injured... it will keep you angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? CLASS No, sir! THE CHIEF It lets you know that you aren't dead yet. Instructors roam, RASPING ORDERS, kicking students into proper position. Jordan struggles with the reverses. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Go regulation if you can't do the reverses, O'Neil. She looks around. A lot of the guys are having trouble with the reverses, not just her. JORDAN Thank you, sir. But I like these just fine. INSTRUCTOR PYRO Not doin' them very fine, O'Neil. JORDAN I'll try anyway, sir. INSTRUCTOR PYRO You'll try what we tell you to try, O'Neil. Go regulation. She switches to standard push-ups, her face disappearing into the ooze with every downstroke. Soon the Chief's boots slosh into FRAME. He's still looking for his human sacrifice. THE CHIEF Who's it gonna be. I just wonder, who is it gonna be... EXT. BEACH - CORONADO NAVAL STATION - SUNSET INSTRUCTOR JOHNS On your belly... on your back... on your feet... on your belly... on your back... on your feet... Whistle-drills. Silhouetted against a lowering sun, the students flop around like docked fish. INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT Blondell is ending her shift. She shoulders a purse and pauses at a window, seeing... The trainees shuffling into formation like the living dead. Jordan is still among them. EXT. THE GRINDER - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT THE CHIEF You have noticed a ship's bell hanging at the west side of this courtyard. If, at any time, you feel you cannot continue with your training -- that bell is your salvation. Strike it three times, and the ordeal is over. Nervous eyes flick to the bell. THE CHIEF Yes, it is a long walk. So I'll make it as easy as I can. He turns his back to the class. THE CHIEF Now you don't have to watch me watching you break rank. Because I know someone here wants to do

happen

How many times the word 'happen' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

loosest

How many times the word 'loosest' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

home

How many times the word 'home' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

carelessly

How many times the word 'carelessly' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

admirer

How many times the word 'admirer' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

spirit

How many times the word 'spirit' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

attempt

How many times the word 'attempt' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

speed

How many times the word 'speed' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

heir

How many times the word 'heir' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

looked

How many times the word 'looked' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

peasants

How many times the word 'peasants' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

see

How many times the word 'see' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

pioneers

How many times the word 'pioneers' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

took

How many times the word 'took' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

twinkling

How many times the word 'twinkling' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

lane

How many times the word 'lane' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

enough

How many times the word 'enough' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

jealous

How many times the word 'jealous' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

free

How many times the word 'free' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

virtue

How many times the word 'virtue' appears in the text?

Gentle reader, do you remember Lady Monk's party, and how it ended,--how it ended, at least as regards those special guests with whom we are concerned? Mr. Palliser went away early, Mrs. Marsham followed him to his house in Park Lane, caught him at home, and told her tale. He returned to his wife, found her sitting with Burgo in the dining-room, under the Argus eyes of the constant Bott, and bore her away home. Burgo disappeared utterly from the scene, and Mr. Bott, complaining inwardly that virtue was too frequently allowed to be its own reward, comforted himself with champagne, and then walked off to his lodgings. Lady Monk, when Mr. Palliser made his way into her room up-stairs, seeking his wife's scarf,--which little incident, also, the reader may perhaps remember,--saw that the game was up, and thought with regret of the loss of her two hundred pounds. Such was the ending of Lady Monk's party. Lady Glencora, on her journey home in the carriage with her husband, had openly suggested that Mrs. Marsham had gone to Park Lane to tell of her doings with Burgo, and had declared her resolution never again to see either that lady or Mr. Bott in her own house. This she said with more of defiance in her tone than Mr. Palliser had ever hitherto heard. He was by nature less ready than her, and knowing his own deficiency in that respect, abstained from all answer on the subject. Indeed, during that drive home very few further words were spoken between them. "I will breakfast with you to-morrow," he said to her, as she prepared to go up-stairs. "I have work still to do to-night, and I will not disturb you by coming to your room." "You won't want me to be very early?" said his wife. "No," said he, with more of anger in his voice than he had yet shown. "What hour will suit you? I must say something of what has occurred to-night before I leave you to-morrow." "I don't know what you can have got to say about to-night, but I'll be down by half-past eleven, if that will do?" Mr. Palliser said that he would make it do, and then they parted. Lady Glencora had played her part very well before her husband. She had declined to be frightened by him; had been the first to mention Burgo's name, and had done so with no tremor in her voice, and had boldly declared her irreconcilable enmity to the male and female duennas who had dared to take her in charge. While she was in the carriage with her husband she felt some triumph in her own strength; and as she wished him good night on the staircase, and slowly walked up to her room, without having once lowered her eyes before his, something of this consciousness of triumph still supported her. And even while her maid remained with her she held herself up, as it were, inwardly, telling herself that she would not yield,--that she would not be cowed either by her husband or by his spies. But when she was left alone all her triumph departed from her. She bade her maid go while she was still sitting in her dressing-gown; and when the girl was gone she got close over the fire, sitting with her slippers on the fender, with her elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands. In this position she remained for an hour, with her eyes fixed on the altering shapes of the hot coals. During this hour her spirit was by no means defiant, and her thoughts of herself anything but triumphant. Mr. Bott and Mrs. Marsham she had forgotten altogether. After all, they were but buzzing flies, who annoyed her by their presence. Should she choose to leave her husband, they could not prevent her leaving him. It was of her husband and of Burgo that she was thinking,--weighing them one against the other, and connecting her own existence with theirs, not as expecting joy or the comfort of love from either of them, but with an assured conviction that on either side there must be misery for her. But of that shame before all the world which must be hers for ever, should she break her vows and consent to live with a man who was not her husband, she thought hardly at all. That which in the estimation of Alice was everything, to her, at this moment, was almost nothing. For herself, she had been sacrificed; and,--as she told herself with bitter denunciations against herself,--had been sacrificed through her own weakness. But that was done. Whatever way she might go, she was lost. They had married her to a man who cared nothing for a wife, nothing for any woman,--so at least she declared to herself,--but who had wanted a wife that he might have an heir. Had it been given to her to have a child, she thought that she might have been happy,--sufficiently happy in sharing her husband's joy in that respect. But everything had gone against her. There was nothing in her home to give her comfort. "He looks at me every time he sees me as the cause of his misfortune," she said to herself. Of her husband's rank, of the future possession of his title and his estates, she thought much. But of her own wealth she thought nothing. It did not occur to her that she had given him enough in that respect to make his marriage with her a comfort to him. She took it for granted that that marriage was now one distasteful to him, as it was to herself, and that he would eventually be the gainer if she should so conduct herself that her marriage might be dissolved. [Illustration: Lady Glencora.] As to Burgo, I doubt whether she deceived herself much as to his character. She knew well enough that he was a man infinitely less worthy than her husband. She knew that he was a spendthrift, idle, given to bad courses,--that he drank, that he gambled, that he lived the life of the loosest man about the town. She knew also that whatever chance she might have had to redeem him, had she married him honestly before all the world, there could be no such chance if she went to him as his mistress, abandoning her husband and all her duties, and making herself vile in the eyes of all women. Burgo Fitzgerald would not be influenced for good by such a woman as she would then be. She knew much of the world and its ways, and told herself no lies about this. But, as I have said before, she did not count herself for much. What though she were ruined? What though Burgo were false, mean, and untrustworthy? She loved him, and he was the only man she ever had loved! Lower and lower she crouched before the fire; and then, when the coals were no longer red, and the shapes altered themselves no more, she crept into bed. As to what she should say to her husband on the following morning,--she had not yet begun to think of that. Exactly at half-past eleven she entered the little breakfast parlour which looked out over the park. It was the prettiest room in the house, and now, at this springtide, when the town trees were putting out their earliest greens, and were fresh and bright almost as country trees, it might be hard to find a prettier chamber. Mr. Palliser was there already, sitting with the morning paper in his hand. He rose when she entered, and, coming up to her, just touched her with his lips. She put her cheek up to him, and then took her place at the breakfast table. "Have you any headache this morning?" he asked. "Oh, no," she said. Then he took his tea and his toast, spoke some word to her about the fineness of the weather, told her some scraps of news, and soon returned to the absorbing interest of a speech made by the leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords. The speech was very interesting to Mr. Palliser, because in it the noble lord alluded to a break-up in the present Cabinet, as to which the rumours were, he said, so rife through the country as to have destroyed all that feeling of security in the existing Government which the country so much valued and desired. Mr. Palliser had as yet heard no official tidings of such a rupture; but if such rupture were to take place, it must be in his favour. He felt himself at this moment to be full of politics,--to be near the object of his ambition, to have affairs upon his hands which required all his attention. Was it absolutely incumbent on him to refer again to the incidents of last night? The doing so would be odious to him. The remembrance of the task now immediately before him destroyed all his political satisfaction. He did not believe that his wife was in any serious danger. Might it not yet be possible for him to escape from the annoyance, and to wash his mind clean of all suspicion? He was not jealous; he was indeed incapable of jealousy. He knew what it would be to be dishonoured, and he knew that under certain circumstances the world would expect him to exert himself in a certain way. But the thing that he had now to do was a great trouble to him. He would rather have to address the House of Commons with ten columns of figures than utter a word of remonstrance to his wife. But she had defied him,--defied him by saying that she would see his friends no more; and it was the remembrance of this, as he sat behind his newspaper, that made him ultimately feel that he could not pass in silence over what had been done. Nevertheless, he went on reading, or pretending to read, as long as the continuance of the breakfast made it certain that his wife would remain with him. Every now and then he said some word to her of what he was reading, endeavouring to use the tone of voice that was customary to him in his domestic teachings of politics. But through it all there was a certain hesitation,--there were the sure signs of an attempt being made, of which he was himself conscious, and which she understood with the most perfect accuracy. He was deferring the evil moment, and vainly endeavouring to make himself believe that he was comfortably employed the while. She had no newspaper, and made no endeavour to deceive herself. She, therefore, was the first to begin the conversation. "Plantagenet," she said, "you told me last night, as I was going to bed, that you had something to say about Lady Monk's party." He put down the newspaper slowly, and turned towards her. "Yes, my dear. After what happened, I believe that I must say something." "If you think anything, pray say it," said Glencora. "It is not always easy for a man to show what he thinks by what he says," he replied. "My fear is that you should suppose me to think more than I do. And it was for that reason that I determined to sleep on it before I spoke to you." "If anybody is angry with me I'd much rather they should have it out with me while their anger is hot. I hate cold anger." "But I am not angry." "That's what husbands always say when they're going to scold." "But I am not going to scold. I am only going to advise you." "I'd sooner be scolded. Advice is to anger just what cold anger is to hot." "But, my dear Glencora, surely if I find it necessary to speak--" "I don't want to stop you, Plantagenet. Pray, go on. Only it will be so nice to have it over." He was now more than ever averse to the task before him. Husbands, when they give their wives a talking, should do it out of hand, uttering their words hard, sharp, and quick,--and should then go. There are some works that won't bear a preface, and this work of marital fault-finding is one of them. Mr. Palliser was already beginning to find out the truth of this. "Glencora," he said, "I wish you to be serious with me." "I am very serious," she replied, as she settled herself in her chair with an air of mockery, while her eyes and mouth were bright and eloquent with a spirit which her husband did not love to see. Poor girl! There was seriousness enough in store for her before she would be able to leave the room. "You ought to be serious. Do you know why Mrs. Marsham came here from Lady Monk's last night?" "Of course I do. She came to tell you that I was waltzing with Burgo Fitzgerald. You might as well ask me whether I knew why Mr. Bott was standing at all the doors, glaring at me." "I don't know anything about Mr. Bott." "I know something about him though," she said, again moving herself in her chair. "I am speaking now of Mrs. Marsham." "You should speak of them both together as they hunt in couples." "Glencora, will you listen to me, or will you not? If you say that you will not, I shall know what to do." "I don't think you would, Plantagenet." And she nodded her little head at him, as she spoke. "I'm sure I don't know what you would do. But I will listen to you. Only, as I said before, it will be very nice when it's over." "Mrs. Marsham came here, not simply to tell me that you were waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald,--and I wish that when you mention his name you would call him Mr. Fitzgerald." "So I do." "You generally prefix his Christian name, which it would be much better that you should omit." "I will try," she said, very gently; "but it's hard to drop an old habit. Before you married me you knew that I had learned to call him Burgo." "Let me go on," said Mr. Palliser. "Oh, certainly." "It was not simply to tell me that you were waltzing that Mrs. Marsham came here." "And it was not simply to see me waltzing that Mr. Bott stood in the doorways, for he followed me about, and came down after me to the supper-room." "Glencora, will you oblige me by not speaking of Mr. Bott?" "I wish you would oblige me by not speaking of Mrs. Marsham." Mr. Palliser rose quickly from his chair with a gesture of anger, stood upright for half a minute, and then sat down again. "I beg your pardon, Plantagenet," she said. "I think I know what you want, and I'll hold my tongue till you bid me speak." "Mrs. Marsham came here because she saw that every one in the room was regarding you with wonder." Lady Glencora twisted herself about in her chair, but she said nothing. "She saw that you were not only dancing with Mr. Fitzgerald, but that you were dancing with him,--what shall I say?" "Upon my word I can't tell you." "Recklessly." "Oh! recklessly, was I? What was I reckless of?" "Reckless of what people might say; reckless of what I might feel about it; reckless of your own position." "Am I to speak now?" "Perhaps you had better let me go on. I think she was right to come to me." "That's of course. What's the good of having spies, if they don't run and tell as soon as they see anything, especially anything--reckless." "Glencora, you are determined to make me angry. I am angry now,--very angry. I have employed no spies. When rumours have reached me, not from spies, as you choose to call them, but through your dearest friends and mine--" "What do you mean by rumours from my dearest friends?" "Never mind. Let me go on." "No; not when you say my dear friends have spread rumours about me. Tell me who they are. I have no dear friends. Do you mean Alice Vavasor?" "It does not signify. But when I was warned that you had better not go to any house in which you could meet that man, I would not listen to it. I said that you were my wife, and that as such I could trust you anywhere, everywhere, with any person. Others might distrust you, but I would not do so. When I wished you to go to Monkshade, were there to be any spies there? When I left you last night at Lady Monk's, do you believe in your heart that I trusted to Mrs. Marsham's eyes rather than to your own truth? Do you think that I have lived in fear of Mr. Fitzgerald?" "No, Plantagenet; I do not think so." "Do you believe that I have commissioned Mr. Bott to watch your conduct? Answer me, Glencora." She paused a moment, thinking what actually was her true belief on that subject. "He does watch me, certainly," she said. "That does not answer my question. Do you believe that I have commissioned him to do so?" "No; I do not." "Then it is ignoble in you to talk to me of spies. I have employed no spies. If it were ever to come to that, that I thought spies necessary, it would be all over with me." There was something of feeling in his voice as he said this,--something that almost approached to passion which touched his wife's heart. Whether or not spies would be of any avail, she knew that she had in truth done that of which he had declared that he had never suspected her. She had listened to words of love from her former lover. She had received, and now carried about with her a letter from this man, in which he asked her to elope with him. She had by no means resolved that she would not do this thing. She had been false to her husband; and as her husband spoke of his confidence in her, her own spirit rebelled against the deceit which she herself was practising. "I know that I have never made you happy," she said. "I know that I never can make you happy." He looked at her, struck by her altered tone, and saw that her whole manner and demeanour were changed. "I do not understand what you mean," he said. "I have never complained. You have not made me unhappy." He was one of those men to whom this was enough. If his wife caused him no uneasiness, what more was he to expect from her? No doubt she might have done much more for him. She might have given him an heir. But he was a just man, and knew that the blank he had drawn was his misfortune, and not her fault. But now her heart was loosed and she spoke out, at first slowly, but after a while with all the quietness of strong passion. "No, Plantagenet; I shall never make you happy. You have never loved me, nor I you. We have never loved each other for a single moment. I have been wrong to talk to you about spies; I was wrong to go to Lady Monk's; I have been wrong in everything that I have done; but never so wrong as when I let them persuade me to be your wife!" "Glencora!" "Let me speak now, Plantagenet, It is better that I should tell you everything; and I will. I will tell you everything;--everything! I do love Burgo Fitzgerald. I do! I do! I do! How can I help loving him? Have I not loved him from the first,--before I had seen you? Did you not know that it was so? I do love Burgo Fitzgerald, and when I went to Lady Monk's last night, I had almost made up my mind that I must tell him so, and that I must go away with him and hide myself. But when he came to speak to me--" "He has asked you to go with him, then?" said the husband, in whose bosom the poison was beginning to take effect, thereby showing that he was neither above nor below humanity. Glencora was immediately reminded that though she might, if she pleased, tell her own secrets, she ought not, in accordance with her ideas of honour, tell those of her lover. "What need is there of asking, do you think, when people have loved each other as we have done?" "You wanted to go with him, then?" "Would it not have been the best for you? Plantagenet, I do not love you;--not as women love their husbands when they do love them. But, before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood looking at her as she went on. [Illustration: "Before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I have brought on you."] "What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die! Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared." He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is there left for me that I should wish to live?" Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one thing," he said. "I do love you." She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so. "I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other things." "Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things." "But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast." "I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet." "Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora." "No; you are not false!" "I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir. Will you try to love me?" She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness too easily. "I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we had better leave England for a while. I will give up politics for this season. Should you like to go to Switzerland for the summer, or perhaps to some of the German baths, and then on to Italy when the weather is cold enough?" Still she was silent. "Perhaps your friend, Miss Vavasor, would go with us?" He was killing her by his goodness. She could not speak to him yet; but now, as he mentioned Alice's name, she gently put up her hand and rested it on the back of his. At that moment there came a knock at the door;--a sharp knock, which was quickly repeated. "Come in," said Mr. Palliser, dropping his arm from his wife's waist, and standing away from her a few yards. CHAPTER LIX. The Duke of St. Bungay in Search of a Minister. It was the butler who had knocked,--showing that the knock was of more importance than it would have been had it been struck by the knuckles of the footman in livery. "If you please, sir, the Duke of St. Bungay is here." "The Duke of St. Bungay!" said Mr. Palliser, becoming rather red as he heard the announcement. "Yes, sir, his grace is in the library. He bade me tell you that he particularly wanted to see you; so I told him that you were with my lady." "Quite right; tell his grace that I will be with him in two minutes." Then the butler retired, and Mr. Palliser was again alone with his wife. "I must go now, my dear," he said; "and perhaps I shall not see you again till the evening." "Don't let me put you out in any way," she answered. "Oh no;--you won't put me out. You will be dressing, I suppose, about nine." "I did not mean as to that," she answered. "You must not think more of Italy. He has come to tell you that you are wanted in the Cabinet." Again he turned very red. "It may be so," he answered, "but though I am wanted, I need not go. But I must not keep the duke waiting. Good-bye." And he turned to the door. She followed him and took hold of him as he went, so that he was forced to turn to her once again. She managed to get hold of both his hands, and pressed them closely, looking up into his face with her eyes laden with tears. He smiled at her gently, returned the pressure of the hands, and then left her,--without kissing her. It was not that he was minded not to kiss her. He would have kissed her willingly enough had he thought that the occasion required it. "He says that he loves me," said Lady Glencora to herself, "but he does not know what love means." But she was quite aware that he had behaved to her with genuine, true nobility. As soon as she was alone and certain of her solitude, she took out that letter from her pocket, and tearing it into very small fragments, without reading it, threw the pieces on the fire. As she did so, her mind seemed to be fixed, at any rate, to one thing,--that she would think no more of Burgo Fitzgerald as her future master. I think, however, that she had arrived at so much certainty as this, at that moment in which she had been parting with Burgo Fitzgerald, in Lady Monk's dining-room. She had had courage enough,--or shall we rather say sin enough,--to think of going with him,--to tell herself that she would do so; to put herself in the way of doing it; nay, she had had enough of both to enable her to tell her husband that she had resolved that it would be good for her to do so. But she was neither bold enough nor wicked enough to do the thing. As she had said of her own idea of destroying herself,--she did not dare to take the plunge. Therefore, knowing now that it was so, she tore up the letter that she had carried so long, and burnt it in the fire. She had in truth told him everything, believing that in doing so she was delivering her own death-warrant as regarded her future position in his house. She had done this, not hoping thereby for any escape; not with any purpose as regarded herself, but simply because deceit had been grievous to her, and had become unendurable as soon as his words and manner had in them any feeling of kindness. But her confession had no sooner been made than her fault had been forgiven. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him, even, that she had thought of leaving him. She had justified by her own words any treatment of his, however harsh, which he might choose to practise. But the result had been--the immediate result--that he had been more tender to her than she had ever remembered him to be before. She knew that he had conquered her. However cold and heartless his home might be to her, it must be her home now. There could be no further thought of leaving him. She had gone out into the tiltyard and had tilted with him, and he had been the victor. Mr. Palliser himself had not time for much thought before he found himself closeted with the Duke; but as he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, a thought or two did pass quickly across his mind. She had confessed to him, and he had forgiven her. He did not feel quite sure that he had been right, but he did feel quite sure that the thing had been done. He recognized it for a fact that, as regarded the past, no more was to be said. There were to be no reproaches, and there must be some tacit abandoning of Mrs. Marsham's close attendance. As to Mr. Bott;--he had begun to hate Mr. Bott, and had felt cruelly

thoroughly

How many times the word 'thoroughly' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

speech

How many times the word 'speech' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

fold

How many times the word 'fold' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

theatre

How many times the word 'theatre' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

distempers

How many times the word 'distempers' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

thirst

How many times the word 'thirst' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

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God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

royal

How many times the word 'royal' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

beauties

How many times the word 'beauties' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

harmonies

How many times the word 'harmonies' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

none

How many times the word 'none' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

pure

How many times the word 'pure' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

thanks

How many times the word 'thanks' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

realize

How many times the word 'realize' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

heav'nly

How many times the word 'heav'nly' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

gates

How many times the word 'gates' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

spirits

How many times the word 'spirits' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

unobserv'd

How many times the word 'unobserv'd' appears in the text?

God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

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God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

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God Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare; Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less then to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to ow; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then? O had his powerful Destiny ordaind Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all? Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I flie Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Then to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, Under what torments inwardly I groane; While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd The lower still I fall, onely Supream In miserie; such joy Ambition findes. But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear, Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne; As Man ere long, and this new World shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair, Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid Him counterfet, if any eye beheld. For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware, Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme, Artificer of fraud; and was the first That practisd falshood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge: Yet not anough had practisd to deceive URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce He markd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde, Access deni'd; and over head up grew Insuperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm, A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung: Which to our general Sire gave prospect large Into his neather Empire neighbouring round. And higher then that Wall a circling row Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow, When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume, That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext All path of Man or Beast that past that way: One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt, At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould: Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores, Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould: So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle Tree and highest there that grew, Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge Of immortalitie. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views To all delight of human sense expos'd In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Of God the Garden was, by him in the East Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings, Or where the Sons of EDEN long before Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind; Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through EDEN went a River large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill Waterd the Garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood, Which from his darksom passage now appeers, And now divided into four main Streams, Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme And Country whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks, Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold, With mazie error under pendant shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc't shade Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake, That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd, Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams. The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM, Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE, Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye; Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard, Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock, A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living Creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yeilded, by him best receivd, Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald, Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame Of natures works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure, And banisht from mans life his happiest life, Simplicitie and spotless innocence. So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair That ever since in loves imbraces met, ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE. Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side They sat them down, and after no more toil Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell, Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours: The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they. About them frisking playd All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den; Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His breaded train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat, Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose: When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad. O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them Divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd. Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy; Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne Though I unpittied: League with you I seek, And mutual amitie so streight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such Accept your Makers work; he gave it me, Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould, To entertain you two, her widest Gates, And send forth all her Kings; there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous ofspring; if no better place, Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just, Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd, By conquering this new World, compels me now To do what else though damnd I should abhorre. So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie, The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree Down he alights among the sportful Herd Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one, Now other, as thir shape servd best his end Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd To mark what of thir state he more might learn By word or action markt: about them round A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare, Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play, Strait couches close, then rising changes oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground Whence rushing he might surest seise them both Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men To first of women EVE thus moving speech, Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes, Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample World Be infinitly good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can performe Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires From us no other service then to keep This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees In Paradise that beare delicious fruit So various, not to taste that onely Tree Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life, So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is, Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signes of power and rule Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n Over all other Creatures that possesse Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard One easie prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: But let us ever praise him, and extoll His bountie, following our delightful task To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours, Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my Guide And Head, what thou hast said is just and right. For wee to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thy self canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak't, and found my self repos'd Under a shade on flours, much wondring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe On the green bank, to look into the cleer Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd Bending to look on me, I started back, It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd, Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow staies Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd Mother of human Race: what could I doe, But follow strait, invisibly thus led? Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a Platan, yet methought less faire, Less winning soft, less amiablie milde, Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd, Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE, Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart Substantial Life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other half: with that thy gentle hand Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see How beauty is excelld by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd, And meek surrender, half imbracing leand On our first Father, half her swelling Breast Naked met his under the flowing Gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis't in one anothers arms The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust, Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines; Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems: One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd, Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord Envie them that? can it be sin to know, Can it be death? and do they onely stand By Ignorance, is that thir happie state, The proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with designe To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw What further would be learnt. Live while ye may, Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam. Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern Gate of Paradise Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds, Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent Accessible from Earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climbe. Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night; About him exercis'd Heroic Games Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold. Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner From what point of his Compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n Charge and strict watch that to this happie place No evil thing approach or enter in; This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate; But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North, Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd: URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight, Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst, See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass The vigilance here plac't, but such as come Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort, So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal barr. But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend: Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober Liverie all things clad; Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird, They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon Rising in clouded Majestie, at length Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light, And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw. When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as day and night to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest; Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his Dignitie, And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies; While other Animals unactive range, And of thir doings God takes no account. Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East With first approach of light, we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green, Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth: Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest. To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd. My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains, God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and thir change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun When first on this delightful Land he spreads His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour, Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon, And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train: But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure, Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon, Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet. But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor repli'd. Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE, Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth, By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land In order, though to Nations yet unborn, Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Least total darkness should by Night regaine Her old possession, and extinguish life In Nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate Of various influence foment and warme, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow On Earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none, That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise; Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others note Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding

farawayness

How many times the word 'farawayness' appears in the text?