Collected Plays

The Prince of Mathura

This seems to be a first version of PRINCE OF EDUR

Persons of Drama

AJAMEDE - Prince of Mathura, a fugitive in the mountains.

INDRADYUMNA - his friend and comrade.

ATRY - King of Mathura, by the help of the Scythians.

TORAMAN - Prince of Cashmere, son of the Scythian, warlord of the North West.

CANACA - his Brahmin, his court jester.

HOOSHKA - Captain of the Scythian bodyguard.

MAYOOR - Atry's general and minister.

INDRANY - Queen of Mathura.

URMILA - Princess of Mathura, daughter of Atry and Indrany.

LILA - daughter of Hooshka.

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Act One

Scene I

Mathura, a room in the palace.
Atry, Indrany.

ATRY
However hard it be, however gross
The undisguised compulsion none can stay,
Compulsion by impracticable revolt,
Indrany, deeper, viler the disgrace
If by rebellion we invite constraint
Naked, contemptuous, to a slave subdued.
The reed that bows to the insistent wind
Is wiser than the trunk which the cyclone
Indignantly uproots. To force we yield,
But to a force disguised in courtly forms.
That's better than to yield beneath the scourge.

INDRANY
There's a defeat more noble, not to yield,
Even though we break. And break, I know, we must,
But to live fouled for ever, vilely robed
In a soiled purple, marked apart¹ to all the world
For laughter by the puppet's tinsel crown,
That is disgrace indeed.

ATRY
We hold this realm
Because the northern Scythian helps our sword.

INDRANY
By princely compromise, alliance high,
Not yet by purchase or a social stain.

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ATRY
Our child will be an empress.

INDRANY
And outcaste.

ATRY
There have been many nuptials mixed like these
Of which world-famous emperors were born.

INDRANY
Yes, but we took, not gave, warlords² not slaves.
A ransom of his fate the conquered Greek
To Indian Chandragupta gave his child,
Knowing a son by her could never rule.

ATRY
There is one bar. The Scythian weds with all
And makes Impartial Time the arbiter
Whether a native or a foreign womb
Shall be the shelterer of his empire's heir.

INDRANY
This honour's purchased at too vile a cost.

ATRY
There is no help. If we deny our girl
He will have her violently, make her his slave
And not his wife.

INDRANY
Do this then, seem to yield,
But send her to your fortress on the hills,
Whence let one take her with a show of force,
Whoever's noblest now of Aryan lords
In Magadha, Avanty or the South,
Fit mate for Atry's stock. Twixt him, be strife,

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And the Cashmerian, we escape his wrath.

ATRY
It shall be so. I'll choose a trusty man
Who shall to Magadha before the morn.
Meanwhile, prepare your daughter for the hills.
(Indrany goes out joyfully.)
It is not good. The man will learn the trick,
A fierce barbarian, rapid as the storm,
Violent, vindictive, stamping on the world,
Like a swift warhorse, neighing to the wind,
With nostrils wide for any scent of war,
For men to kill, lands to lay desolate,
Haughty and keen, armed with his violence,
With the king's eye that reads the minds of men,—
Such is the man she counsels me to tempt
By palpable evasion. I will send
Urmila to my fortress on the hills,
But he, not Magadha, shall take her forth
By secret nuptials. He is honourable
Though violent, a statesman though too proud³.
The prejudices of our race and day
Must yield to more commanding thoughts and views
That suit the changing times. Custom is mutable,
Only the breach of it is dangerous,
If too impetuously we innovate. It's best
To circumvent opinion⁴, not provoke.
Who is there? Call Mayoor!
The King's first task is to preserve his realm,
Means honourable or dishonourable
Are only means—to use impartially
The most effective first.

Mayoor enters.

Mayoor, you know,
The motion⁵ made by the Cashmerian's son
To wed my daughter.

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MAYOOR
We have spoken of it
Already.

ATRY
You are still of the same mind?
You think my subjects will revolt?

MAYOOR
It's sure.

ATRY
The Scythian sword can keep them hushed and still.

MAYOOR
And you its slave and pensioner, impotent.

ATRY
Then do it thus. The thing is secret still
Let it remain so. Let Prince Toraman
Wed Urmila in secret in the hills
As if herself had yielded to his suit,
Not my consent. Against whom then, Mayoor,
Shall Mathura revolt?

MAYOOR
It may be done.
But will the Scythian's pride assent, or if
The bond is secret, will he own the bond?

ATRY
He shall, he must. To break by any means
The bar of pride that lowers him beneath
The lowest of his Aryan tributaries,
He will consent to much. And for the bond
He shall engage his honour, then possess.
Yourself go to him, Mayoor, where he's camped;

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Persuade him. Let an escort start at once
With Urmila to Roodhra in the hills.
I trust you, Mayoor, for entire success.
My crown, my honour are upon this cast.

MAYOOR
Your crown is safe with me, your honour, King,
I'll save.

ATRY
Always few words were yours, Mayoor,
But each one solid gold.

He goes out.

MAYOOR
To cheat you's best
Of the dishonour to which you aspire
And for the crown it's safer in my hands
Than Toraman's, the Scythian giant, bold,
Subtle and violent, who spreads his toils
Over all India, helping force with guile
And guile with force

Enter Mekhala.

MEKHALA
He is alone. Hear you,
Mayoor!

MAYOOR
It's from the queen?

MEKHALA
Read it and see.

MAYOOR
Tell her my word is pledged and Urmila
Saved from the Scythian wedlock.

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MEKHALA
And that means
You'll do it?

MAYOOR
She shall not wed Toraman

Mekhala goes out.

This is another coil. The King it seems
Deceives his people and deceives his queen.
She trusts him not, nor they. A lying King
Tortuous and serpentine in policy,
Loses as much by the distrust he breeds
As all his shufflings gain. I'll write to Magadha
In other terms than Queen Indrany dreams.
I will send out my messengers at once.
Our first to Ajamede, the Lion dispossessed,
Where in the hills of Roodhra now he lingers.
Another to the mighty Magadhan
Who gathers up his strength to free the land
From the barbarian's tread. Myself shall go
To Toraman, and meet the Scythian will.
The end shall be as God from old desired.

(Several pages torn off)

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