HUSBAND AND WIFE
Characters: Herakles. Euristheus. The Lutanist. Deianejra. Jole. Kaliste and several bondmaids.
A royal dwelling. Deianejra sits in a velvet chair, a heap of flowers in her lap, a half-woven wreath in her hand; on the floor sit the bondwomen, holding up flower-stems. Euristheus broods in a corner.

KALISTE
(Offers Deianejra a lily.)
There, one more stem.

DEIANEJRA
(Takes it, smiling.)
This one is hope’s own flower;
I have no need of hope. Give me instead
A sprig of myrtle.
(Takes it and tucks it into the wreath.)
Let among the burning roses
The flower of love stand trembling. — (She springs up.) He comes!
I hear the horn’s call.

EURISTHEUS
(Steps to Deianejra.)
Sit down again, little woman;
Go on plaiting your wretched coil of leaves;
The hero is slow to come! (Laughing.) And come or not,
He brings home something finer on his head!

DEIANEJRA
(With pain.)
O king!
Why do you mock the burning woman? Why
Mock the burning woman’s gift, that was
Made only to wither?

EURISTHEUS
Because it is ill-woven; not
Every flower is in it; and above all
The rose stands in the center with no shade.

DEIANEJRA
(Hands it to him.)
Then set it right yourself, or thread among them
A few green sprays.

EURISTHEUS
(Shaking his head.)
I?

DEIANEJRA
You, good king!

EURISTHEUS
(Snatches up a cypress sprig and throws it on.)
The wreath needs death’s flower too!

DEIANEJRA
(Leaps up.)
Ha, evil spirit,
Why do you torment me? Not one smile
Is on your face that does not speak a sneer;
Not one glance of your hollow eye that does not
Stab my soul! Why is this?
Have I perhaps wronged you?

EURISTHEUS
No.

DEIANEJRA
Then why?

EURISTHEUS
Because you are young. (Coaxing.) Daughter, be calm;
I love you; now and then,
It’s true, I torment you — because: you are young still,
And you would play with me as with a boy;
Yet if you wish to play with the old,
Then guard yourself against summoning up a child’s
Games — flower, or girl,
Or battlefield; for an old man’s soul weeps back
Toward its past, and amid the storm of passion
It easily turns and snarls at you. — My child, do not tremble!
(He takes her arm.)

DEIANEJRA
O how dry your arm is! Your steel sinew,
How it grinds as it bends! O let me go!
I am afraid of you. (A horn sounds.) I told you, Herakles comes!
He is here.
(Joyfully she runs to the door.)

HERAKLES
(Enters, the fair but pale Jole on his arm.)
Wife!

DEIANEJRA
(Rushes into his arms.)
O my Herakles, embrace me!
Embrace me, that my heart be crushed together;
For from my melted breast it slips out easily,
And I shall die heartless upon your chest.
(Herakles embraces her.)
Not so gently! Not so does the son of Zeus
Embrace.

EURISTHEUS
(Looking at Jole.)
Fair — fit to be a Herakles’s wife.
(He offers Jole his hand.)

JOLE
(Raises it to her lips.)
You offer here the first brotherly hand.
HERAKLES
Wife! I have brought home a little orphan girl;
But not as a bondmaid.

DEIANEJRA
Of bondmaids
I have none. To my breast, orphan — be my daughter;
(Embraces her.)
From now on do not say you have no mother.

JOLE
True!
I have no mother either! And if I did: what for?
She would be only a woman, and a woman am I too.
Besides, the children not one’s own
Are stepchildren only. Leave me a bondmaid, queen.

DEIANEJRA
You will weep soon, girl; be cheerful,
Forget your sorrow! Look, there they are smiling,
The young girls; go you among them too,
Soon you’ll forget how to weep.
My Herakles, are you weary?
(Takes his arm.)

HERAKLES
(To Euristheus.)
And why has the king
Of Mycenae come to me?

EURISTHEUS
(Humbly.)
To salute
The great Herakles.

HERAKLES
So; if he has come
To salute me, I salute him back. — My wife,
What did you ask me?
DEIANEJRA
Are you weary?

HERAKLES
I am bored.

EURISTHEUS
Show your victories’
Reward, Herakles; you’ve brought home, I think,
Treasure and captives.

HERAKLES
A hero fights for what
He does not yet possess. Come, my wife, look
Upon our friends. Euristheus, you come too.
(The three go out.)

JOLE
Among these peasant girls am I to forget
How to weep? Good! We’ll try it! (Wildly.) Or else
I must bury my dagger in the dust,
That there it may noose the proud man down.
(She steps among the girls.)
My friends, will you take me for your companion?

KALISTE
Why not? Sit with us. What is your name?

JOLE
Now Jole.

KALISTE
A fair name! Look, the lutanist!
Come, let’s set his strings jangling! Stop there,
Little fair-haired one!
(The lutanist crosses the scene, and the girls run after him.)
You must play us a song.

JOLE
Ha, my God! This youth I know!
(Exit.)
A garden. Late evening. Herakles enters unarmed; on his shoulder his usual garb: the lion-skin, which he pulls open at his breast.

HERAKLES
What is this that strains within me? Why does the hide
Of the tyrant of the wastes cringe on my chest?
Why pours so hot a downpour from my brow
Down to the ankles? Ha, I know why:
There is a flame within, a flame burns between the bones.
(Smiling.) Bah, folly! If it burns, I’ll quench it; up there
The woman waits, pining. — No, no, I’m sick of her!
I want no Deianejra!
(He takes off his wreath.) From my brain
This weed comes into bud; and Herakles
Wears no brow-wreath plaited by withered hands.
(He pulls it apart.) Look here: even myrtle, what she takes into her head.
You are a good little wife, my wife, but not fair,
Not Jole; for she is fairer than this
Lifeless flower, (He crumples it and throws it down.)
and more glorious than the heavens.
O Jole! divine girl, the prize
Of my last battle on the field of earth!
Will you weave me
A wreath for my brow that will never
Wither? Will you — will you? If I but knew?
(He looks up.) In the woman’s chamber the light is out —
(Whispering.) Now she lies down on the purple of her bed —
Now she waits — now her breast surges up for me —
Now she listens, heart trembling, does she hear
My footfall’s thud on the stone of the porch? —
Wait not, wait not! I will not come to you!
Your frozen love is like the light of the moon,
Your sparkless eye is like the wandering
Star’s fire, only shining and never burning.
Wait no more, ever; here above the turf
Sleep is sweeter than in the cold woman’s
Arms. Here will I sleep; and only therefore
Sleep, that I may dream of my girl.
(He sinks down on the bed of turf.)

JOLE
(Enters, and halts in the far part of the garden.)
The tyrant’s nest is silent, (She looks round.) is no one here?
There is none, but the one who keeps his own watch
And is awake only that his pains
Be not let fall asleep. O my father!
Grieve not that for now I only weep — time is needed
Yet for the deed; and till then what shall I do?
(She draws a white lock of hair from her breast.)
My breast has been till now the grave of your white hair;
But this grave is so hot, and so white,
That you cannot rest there; for Herakles
Will tear it open and cover it with kisses;
There you cannot stay, holy relic, no!
I will bury you instead; (She kneels.) here it is cold enough;
For this grave the cold is good — (Distractedly.) grave — what is a grave?
A deathbed over which the mortal weeps,
Mourning his own pain, not the dead one’s.
(She springs up.) But I weep for neither! Why should the proud bride
Mourn? I wept while I was a girl;
And where would I find so many tears? The eyes
Are lakes only, that one day run dry.
And now rest, old man! You shall not see me
Kneel above you any more; for the girl’s breast,
Its sinew is weak, and tears easily;
And yet I must live a long while still! (She moves to go.)
Once more, O once more, white hair,
I kiss you. (She bends down.) Ha, what is that gleaming yonder?
My mistress comes!
(She springs up and draws back beside a bush.)

DEIANEJRA
(Enters, a lamp in her hand, bondmaids behind her.)
Night draws near, and my Herakles
Does not come up to me. By the moon’s light
I saw him brooding here. Come this way!
Look, there is the hero! He has fallen asleep;
Do not wake him, girls.
(She sits beside him.)

JOLE
My lady!

DEIANEJRA
You too here, Jole? Sit down quietly.
(Jole sits down by Herakles.)
(With passion.)
Off, off, onto the ground! Only I myself
May breathe in his breath.

JOLE
(Mockingly.)
So;
Look, my lady: how your husband’s face
Writhes, and how his breast roars!

DEIANEJRA
Why do you watch
Over him? The hero’s day, his night,
Seethe in eternal struggle; now he does battle;
That is why his breast roars.

LUTANIST
(Enters.)
I salute you, O
Dark night, faithful mirror of grief.

DEIANEJRA
Stop, boy! Come here beside me, and sing here.
But a different song — about the night.

LUTANIST
(Catching sight of the girls.)
I salute you,
Dark night, for above and below you scatter
Your star-daughters.

DEIANEJRA
Merry boy, not such
A fawning song; here Herakles is sleeping —
Look how he spreads with his hand — look, he does battle!
Now play of him.

LUTANIST
For one kiss of yours,
Fair lady.

DEIANEJRA
Go, fool! The troop of girls,
What would they say to that?
(Jole flushes.)

LUTANIST
They’d laugh at us, and well.
(He snatches up his lute.)
At Hesper’s breath
The cradle sways;
A small child sleeps within, and dreams.
While he dreams a child’s dream
Of Zeus the thunderer: the god smiles down.
And while he smiles: the withered fern
Begins to rustle on the ground,
And out of it two serpents coil up
Onto the child’s cradle. "Little boy!
Are you asleep? If you sleep, awaken!"
But why wake him?
The downy hand reaches up, and from it
Two serpents fall, gripped, onto the fern. —
Fair girls! Who was this child?

GIRLS
This child was Herakles, son of Zeus.
LUTANIST
On the sky-high Caucasus mountain,
Chained upon the rock, sits
Man-fashioning Prometheus —
And pale he watches the eagle gnaw
His ever-new-grown heart.
And as he watches: among the valleys
A young wanderer halts, and looks up,
And as he looks up, he seizes the bow,
And the vulture, wing-broken, falls. —
Fair girls, who was this daring youth?

GIRLS
This youth was Herakles, son of Zeus.

LUTANIST
Dragons ravaged among the rivers
Of Greece;
A lion roared on the level lands,
Among the holy crags a boar raged,
And a horror-beast at the gate of heaven. —
Who was the man who overcame them?

GIRLS
The man was Herakles, son of Zeus.

LUTANIST
Across half the world giants lived,
And tore the dwarf folk apart;
Who killed them off, every one?
Who was it crushed Antaeus, the son of earth,
To pieces in the air? And who was it
Who even the heavy earth itself
Bore on his shoulder, holding it for hours?

GIRLS
This was a god: Herakles, son of Zeus.
JOLE
(Snatches away the lute. With passion.)
Give me the lute, boy! You know nothing,
In your slave fingers even the string is false.
Listen to me, if you do not weary of me:
In a spinning-room fair girls sat together.
And as girls in a spinning-room are wont:
Now and then they laughed aloud.
In the midst sat a slender, faithless girl,
But fair, though wilful, a proud girl —
If you have heard the fame of Omphale:
She was the one. On her fairy ripple-fingers
A golden thread of flax wound, and
Curled up around the spindle’s neck —
All at once the earth outside trembles, and there steps in
A giant; on his broad bony shoulders
A lion rattled, and his crusted mane,
Tossed apart by the wind, stood up toward heaven;
In the giant’s fist an oaken club,
Too small for a pillar, but great for a cudgel.
He comes, I say, and lays his club at the fair
Princess’s feet, and sits upon it to sing,
To dally, and now and then even to blush,
While he sings, while he dallies, and blushes:
Omphale hangs a woman’s dress on him.
The ten other girls steal the club
From under him and swap it for a distaff.
The hero laughs, and spins between his thick fingers
A thread as thick as the distaff
Itself. Bondwomen! Who was this craven hero?

GIRLS
(Laughing.)
Herakles.
DEIANEJRA
(Casts a reproving glance at Jole.)
Jole! You are a wanton girl.

HERAKLES
(In his sleep.)
Stop! — Your eye clouds — a kiss, girl —
Just one — O do not weep — for it is — it is only one
I beg of you — it is not much.

DEIANEJRA
(Kisses him.)
There, my love.

HERAKLES
(Springs up.)
Begone!
(Pushes her away.)

DEIANEJRA
In your dream you beg, and you do not take
When you are awake: who could ever fill
The endless cravings of your godlike breast!

HERAKLES
Bah, why do you grieve over me: you have no care
For me.

DEIANEJRA
Are you ill, my love, or sleepy?

HERAKLES
When was I ever ill? With open eyes
Where did you see me sleepy? I tell you waking, woman,
You have grown old, I want you no more.

DEIANEJRA
(Trembling.)
My God,
Whence this? O look on me, Herakles,
And say it once again, for I cannot believe
That this voice slipped out from your breast.

HERAKLES
If it gives you such joy to hear it:
Once more I say it — you are old, I do not love you.

DEIANEJRA
(Brokenly.)
True! True! — Herakles! My young face’s
Roses unfolded on your breast;
My eye lost its light in yours;
My fair brow withered from your kiss,
And now, when my whole being has melted
In the fire of your love; now, when
Like dew before the sunlight I have burned away —
Risen into vapor, into the steam-sphere of your soul
I have dissolved to nothing: now you cry out:
You have grown old, woman, I want you no more!
(She sinks against Kaliste’s arm.)

HERAKLES
Why the siren-song in your mouth, woman?
You speak to Herakles? With frozen words,
With a whimpering face you tempt me — to flare
Up again into flame? With a trembling whimper
Do you mean to shake me out of my sweet dreams?
What are you, set beside that? A black coal,
Proud only that once it was a live ember.
In your girlhood I loved you faithfully,
And as a young wife too, for I believed
That a woman, while she moves, is able to love.
I once thought an eternal spring would shine
On your ice-smooth face; eternal snow
On the hills of your breast; eternal fire
In the lightnings of your eye, which was fair,
And glowed at night too, like a firefly.
And now the face is woven into wrinkles;
The breast has sunk into a valley; the flashing eye,
Its light scattered, has dwindled to a wick.

DEIANEJRA
(Bitterly.)
And the oath, good Herakles?

HERAKLES
His oath,
You think, Herakles breaks?
When I swore, I said to you:
"I love you," and I swear again that then
I loved you. But I did not say, did I,
"I shall love you" — for no such thing does
The sober man promise: a thing that rests
On passion. — Now hear, my lady, the decree:
This day we cease to be husband and wife.

DEIANEJRA
(Falls at his feet.)
Herakles, O only do not drive me from you:
Even so you have not made me wretched yet!
Keep me as your bondmaid.

HERAKLES
That you may remain!
Come, Jole! Come! You I love.
(He takes her arm.)

DEIANEJRA
(Springs up with flashing eyes.)
You thought that jealousy would strike me down,
Would kill me, and that then you’d hold your wedding
At my funeral feast, base god! This breast’s
Sinews will bend, but will not break apart;
You cannot kill a woman by the means
Of betraying her; but that can kill you.
No, I do not wish it! For it pains me too,
If you suffer; O we are one in the flesh,
As we were in the spirit — or perhaps
Are still. (Coaxing.) For surely you were only playing
With me now! Were you not only playing, Herakles?
You smile! Yes! O, I am happy,
Once more the old, faithful Deianejra.
And you will kiss me too, won’t you? Just once, just once!

HERAKLES
(Coldly.)
If that is all you ask, more than once. There!
(He kisses her.)

DEIANEJRA
Not more than once! The kiss you pressed
A year ago upon my lips: stayed warm for moons,
Burned out bloodspots upon my face,
And bliss healed their wounds.
And how cold this kiss! It could not even
Dry my tears! Not more than once,
Not more than once! For a man cannot deceive
Without the woman coming to know it. (Proudly.) Hero Herakles,
You shall yet love me.
(She moves to go.)

HERAKLES
(Calmly.)
That may well be.

DEIANEJRA
(Steps back.)
No, I will not go! I must look well upon the face
Of the one who is my murderer. — Nearer, girl!
Why do you tremble before me?

JOLE
(Steps to her.)
Why, my lady,
Why should I fear you?
DEIANEJRA
(Takes her hand and looks into her eyes.)
This dark hair —
This great beetle-eye — this pale flush
On the lily face — this young breast —
(She lets go her hand.)
Herakles! She is fairer than I!
(Exit.)

HERAKLES
That I know.
(To the lutanist.)
You star-reader! Why do you stand there frozen?
Have you no song for my wedding?

LUTANIST
(Snaps his strings.)
They have broken,
The string of the soul and of the lute.

HERAKLES
(Laughs heartily.)
Ha-ha-ha!

TWO WOMEN
Characters: Herakles. Euristheus. Philoktetes. The Lutanist. Jolaus. Deianejra. Jole. Wedding guests.
A hall: the pale Deianejra sits on a chair.

DEIANEJRA
My breast throbs, and my broken breath
Barely whispers — and so quietly,
Like that of one preparing to die, who is afraid
To breathe quickly: for in each breath
She fancies she sees the fleeting soul.
But nothing in me aches, only my heart is swollen
And about to burst my breast asunder.
O why does it ache, since my Herakles
Was only playing with me — if one can forgive
The game that wrings out a laugh of agony,
And kills one of the players.
Why do I delude myself? It was grave renouncing
And well-measured scorn that Herakles
Spoke to me. Scorn — scorn, O, only this is hard!
(She touches her head.)
Off with the pearls; there is enough already
In my eyes. Off with the velvet too; what is it to me?
The coarse blanket suits an old bondwoman better.
And it is better, too, for wiping the tears,
For its rough nap brings fresh ones forth.

JOLE
(Enters, looking sadly at the woman.)
Do not soften, girl’s heart! — My lady!

DEIANEJRA
What is still on me that marks a queen
And the wife of Herakles? Nothing at all!
One thing only, (Dully.) grief.

JOLE
(Goes to her.)
My lady.

DEIANEJRA
Who is it?
Ha, girl, it’s you? Why do you come? To wake
The pain that I had half buried,
By the fact that I have not seen you for so long?

JOLE
No.

DEIANEJRA
Then why?

JOLE
When I came to your dwelling, and wept,
You said to me: do not weep, good girl, do not,
In place of your mother I will be your mother;
And I could not become your daughter then.
Now our lots are reversed: you are the poor one,
Poorer perhaps than I was then;
You need the foster-daughter; come, and uncover
All that you feel, and all you are to do;
Perhaps I too can help you toward your aim.

DEIANEJRA
(With wild passion.)
Mad girl! My husband’s wife to be my daughter?
And your father’s daughter to be his wife as well?
Ha-ha! What a fine kinship. (She seizes Jole.) Foolish child!
Do you too see me already old enough to be your mother?
And the battle yet to come between us —
Which alone keeps the life still in me —
With this word, "be my mother," heartless one,
Do you mean to rob me of it? (Mockingly.) My Jole, not so,
"I have no mother! And if I did: what for?
She would be only a woman, and a woman am I too,
Besides, the children not one’s own
Are stepchildren only." This you said to me once.

JOLE
(Coldly.)
True. How then will you struggle with me?

DEIANEJRA
I weep,
I plead; this much a woman can do.

JOLE
(Mockingly.)
The fight between us will amount to this much?
I then fight otherwise: I flatter,
I play, I smile.

DEIANEJRA
(Imploring.)
Not that, girl! Not that!
O why are you young, why are you fair? If you are fair,
And fair you are. — Girl, dear girl!
What use is beauty to you? Give it to me!
Just one ray from the light of your eye —
One rose from the mirror of your young face,
One strand of your fair hair; and for it take
My life two minutes hence.

JOLE
I cannot give it,
I have need of it myself!

DEIANEJRA
(Furiously.)
To allure, is that it, to allure?
To allure Herakles away? You will not give it?
You will not, then? Then I will take it myself.
(She springs at her.)
I’ll pull the color off you, gouge out
The eye — tear out the hair!

JOLE
Woman!
Are you mad? People, help me!
HERAKLES
(Enters, Euristheus after him.)
What is this, wife?

DEIANEJRA
(Crushed.)
A fight.

HERAKLES
A mouse-fight. And for it
I put you in the hole. (He seizes Deianejra.)
Jole, my dear,
Dress yourself, the wedding guests begin to gather.
(He leads Deianejra away.)

EURISTHEUS
I greet you, fair flower of this feast!

JOLE
You too see me as fair, good old man?

EURISTHEUS
As red
As the autumn crocus that grew on Oechalia’s
Bloodied fields, and as gloriously white
As your white-haired father’s dead face.

JOLE
Ha, bury
That word inside yourself, deep, yellow man!
Why do you drone it in my ear?

EURISTHEUS
Because perhaps
You have grown dizzy, and need a little cold water
To bring you to your senses.

JOLE
I need nothing;
And let no one spy on my soul’s secrets.

EURISTHEUS
This way we shall not get on. Do you suppose
I do not know the most secret hollow
Of your breast? Do you think I have not lurked
All day long, always in the track of your little foot?
That I have not eavesdropped beside your pillow.
What do you dream? Girl, before me there is no secret.
I know that for your sake Herakles laid waste
Your fair homeland; for your sake he killed
Your father: that he might make you his concubine.
I know still more; I’ll whisper it in your ear:
You hated him, and you hate him still.
Do not start so badly, my daughter!
What I know: it is as much as if
You alone knew it. You do not speak? Will you with me
Reach one same goal?

JOLE
I, with you? Who know you
In no other way than as a king,
(Sharply.) and as the uncle of Herakles.

EURISTHEUS
True,
You know me well outside, but inside not at all.
I have a kingdom, broad and pleasant;
I have a child, my warriors, and all I need;
But one thing is wanting — the soul’s peace.
When his mother bore Herakles, a seer
Foretold that this boy, or his
Descendants, would destroy my homeland,
And with my family I would become a wanderer on the earth.
You can imagine the anguish that broke upon my heart,
In fury I gripped the dagger in my hand
To drive it through the broad breast of the boy.
But the dagger fell shattered to pieces,
For the boy is the child of the god Zeus.
Cast down, I turned to the holy seer,
Who dryly answered only this: "A god
Only a god and his own breast can destroy."
And I have grayed since then amid torment:
Why is the strength shut into so small
A compass, that of a thousand desires
It cannot bring even a part to pass.
While I grayed, Herakles became a man;
With man, with monster, and with spirit-sons
I sent him to do battle; fool that I was! I believed
That the thirst for glory would choke him;
But he only conquered everywhere! and to me
He recited his victories; then again
My vengeance woke, and I crept after him;
Over sand and crag, on my knees and on my soles;
To spy out where the dagger’s place is
In his breast; and that at last I found.

JOLE
And where?

EURISTHEUS
In his heart. Now, girl, I ask again:
Will you make a pact?

JOLE
Why precisely
I?
EURISTHEUS
Because you alone can stab him to death.

JOLE
Then I’ll do it even without you!

EURISTHEUS
How?

JOLE
(Draws out a dagger.)
When he lies with me: I’ll stab him down.

EURISTHEUS
(Laughing.)
You simpleton! I told you, with a weapon’s point
You cannot kill him, for he is the son of a god.
Why do you keep it in your hand?

JOLE
(Throws it away.)
Woe is me!
All my hope is lost.

EURISTHEUS
Perhaps not.
Will you make a pact?

JOLE
(Sinks against him.)
I will.

EURISTHEUS
Quietly, then, and hear me out, my daughter:
Herakles is two beings, man and god as well;
He would be eternal, immortal, were he
Not to have mingled himself with the dust;
But he mixed among us, and dissolved
Into the frailties of the human nature.
Now he hopes, now he struggles, yearns,
Grieves, smiles, hates, as you, and I;
Why then should he be wholly invulnerable?
His heroic deeds he has fought out, all of them on earth,
There is no battle that befits him;
The warrior soul cannot find rest,
If there is no one left to fight, it goes forth
Against its own breast in the final battle —
Win or lose, no matter, he perishes.
Now he loves, ardently — as we others
Cannot: and he has centered all his soul
In this one single
Instinct. — Therefore, fair girl; if revenge
Eases your lot: love him —
Kiss him, embrace him, fall on his burning breast —
And when he melts, like ore upon the fire,
When he weeps, sweats, trembles upon your breast:
Laugh in his face, and deceive him. —
This is your dagger, you women!
Come, the bridal song is roaring! And perhaps the funeral one.
(He takes Jole by the hand and leads her off.)

HERAKLES
(Enters with Philoktetes and Jolaus.)
Merrily, Philoktetes, we hold a new wedding!
Do not be so silent; what ails you? And you, fellow,
Why are you not dancing outside among the rest?

JOLAUS
He who roamed with you for so many years
Over crag and mountain: it is no wonder
If his legs will not bear him. Hey! Herakles,
At your former wedding I was a finer lad
Still on my feet. Poor wife of yours!

PHILOKTETES
(Seizes Herakles’s hand.)
I have never yet asked anything of you;
For I am not used to begging, that you know;
But if I ask now: what will you answer?

HERAKLES
Granted.

PHILOKTETES
Release the woman from your prison.

HERAKLES
Let her out.
(Philoktetes goes out.)

JOLAUS
I too beg for still more,
If you would not deny it to your faithful servant.

HERAKLES
(Smiling.)
If it be not too much.

JOLAUS
Do not drive out the old woman;
You left her once as your bondmaid, and Herakles
Always keeps his word.

HERAKLES
So be it then.

JOLAUS
(Joyfully.)
Now I can bear my legs again, and this very day
I’ll fling them about until they grow young again!
(Exit.)

HERAKLES
Good, good — I cannot drive her out, for she was my wife,
Or rather: because I once gave my word.
What care have I for her any more? One instant
And I shall be a bridegroom again. The woman
Is a wife only so long as she answers
The creator’s rule: "to love";
And if she cannot do this, can neither herself
Enjoy nor make another enjoy:
She is only an earth-burden, and lifeless clay.
For as in spring the gardener plants two
Violet stems in the gardens, that the one
May open full, and with its clustered bloom
Mark out the kind, — and the other
Bring only seed: so woman
Is brought forth only to breed the kind.
My bride dresses a long while.
Ha, the horn roars! Come, Jole, the wedding guests are here!
(Men and women enter; Herakles leads Jole forward.)

SPOKESMAN OF THE PEOPLE
Receive your vassals’ and your warriors’
Most faithful wish: that you make happy
The son of Zeus, the unconquerable man.
(They heap treasure at Jole’s feet.)

BONDWOMEN
Let your love bloom with such charm,
And be as gentle as this little heap.
(They scatter flowers before her.)

JOLE
(To herself.)
Were I a peasant, this splendor would dazzle me.
But still one homage is lacking. O!
Would she might not come!

DEIANEJRA
(Enters dressed in mourning.)
As your bondmaid I have come
To your wedding too, great king; receive
My only treasure, the one I can give.
(She gives Herakles a shirt.)
Put it on on the wedding night;
For you, bride, I have no gift.
But I have a request, which with breaking heart
I make to you: love Herakles
As I do.
(She moves to go.)

HERAKLES
(Looks at the shirt.)
Stop! Take back your garment;
This is bloodied, and on my wedding night
I wear nothing bloodied.
(He throws it back.)

DEIANEJRA
(In despair.)
O woe is me! (Exit.)

HERAKLES
(Beckons, and the people withdraw.)
My Jole, we are alone. Do you need an oath
To make you know how I love you?
If you do: behold, I swear: that there is not in heaven,
Not in Vulcan’s workshop, a flood of flame
That would not be ice against my fire.
And I swear too what I have never
Sworn to a woman: that besides you
I shall never love another woman of earth.
Now speak you, do you love me?

JOLE
(Trembling.)
I love you.

HERAKLES
Then live as that word is not a lie. My wife!
Why did you tremble?

JOLE
(Composes herself.)
O sweet Herakles!
I am a woman, and our nature is:
To tremble. At every sudden joy
And grief the blood stiffens in our heart.

HERAKLES
Then I’ll kiss the frost away.
(He takes hold of Jole, who draws back.)
What is this?

JOLE
Herakles, I have one request, and if you
Fulfill it; then I will love you forevermore.

HERAKLES
What is it?

JOLE
Just one moon ago this very day
It is, that we buried my good father;
Grant that this day I may still weep for him.

HERAKLES
It is hard to wait even a moment. But
A faithful wife can come only from the faithful child.
You may weep. — In the morning, then?

JOLE
No; tomorrow evening.
The star, the moon, and the night’s solitude
Are the truest friend of those in love.

HERAKLES
Then till tomorrow evening Herakles is bereft!
(Exit with Jole.)
A garden. Night.

DEIANEJRA
(Enters.)
The people that danced on my torment
Have grown quiet. The bridegroom! — Ha, away from me,
Evil thought! The bridegroom mourns
His worn-out wife — yes! he mourns; this
I must believe, or else I go mad. —
He did not take my gift! Perhaps it is well!
I did not even know myself, and even now do not know,
What it is. — Do I see right? Who comes toward me?
Ha, the bride comes to cool
Her fiery breast! Far, far flee away, woman —
Such a thing you cannot look upon.
(Exit hastily.)

JOLE
(Enters.)
One day still is mine,
Only one day; and I do not know why
I begged this too? — O, I know,
And yet I dare not confess it. Out with it!
"You love!" Enough! I have said everything; and
No one asked, no one heard.
Every day a god-song would sound
Among my window’s bowers, and the singer
Looked up trembling: to know if I understood?
Was it he that lured me out just now, the girl? Yes!
The first kiss I’ll steal from him in secret,
And let the rest be lost in exchange for the grave!
There he comes! Where shall I go! I’ll blush to death.
(She draws back beside a bush.)

LUTANIST
(Enters, lute in hand.)
"There is no poorer one, only I, no poorer one,
Only the lutanist; only the lutanist is poor!
The peasant is at peace, no soul’s longing troubles him —
He does not dream of a fairy-world being;
He roams the earth, plows, and sows seed —
And has no other care: will heaven give rain?
What does the hero dream: only war and glory,
And he wins it with blood; a child’s affair!
With a pointed blade to pour out red blood!
And the king, how happy! Amid treasure
He smiles on the earth’s highest throne,
And whatever he dreams, or his heart desires:
The slave folk, trembling, fulfill!
O my God! How happy is the king!
But the singer, whom the earth laughs at,
Whom the world mocks as a moon-struck fool,
Who has no homeland, no dwelling,
For whom the day is a magic lamplight,
For whom the night is the home of spirits,
Whom in his dreams convulsions wrench together,
Who delights in the land of imaginings
And steals a magic ray from the spirits,
To his own ruin. Ha, for the bliss of the kingdom
Of God he senses, and for it breaks into song,
Raving, for his lute does not reach so far,
And here below there is no one to understand,
For he who understands is just as mad
As he himself — O how unhappy,
He only sings, only sings, until his string snaps!
There is no poorer one, only I, no poorer one,
Only the singer, only the singer is poor!"
Ha, why does this piece of wood quiver in my hand?
Without it I’d be happy! Away with it,
Into the dust! (He looks it over.) Shall I cast you off? What use are you,
If you do not speak? Must my soul ever give
The voice into your strings? And in the end
Squander on you the breath of my life?
No, no, I’ll carry you no more! You give me nothing!
You only take! You are a wretched friend,
And a misshapen echo; go into the dust then.
(He throws away his lute, and Jole picks it up.)
You moan! Has your wooden breast snapped? It is nothing,
Now I am free at last and companionless,
Now I am light and merry! But am I happy?
No; even now still unhappy; the heart
Grips, and begs! But for what? A girl, a girl!
Jole, the heavenly girl! Ah, she does not come!
There is no poorer one, only I!

JOLE
(Plucks a string.)
Only I!

LUTANIST
What is that?
Even now you echo back the breast’s torments!
And you mock me, wretched piece of wood.
(He starts with passion toward his lute, and seeing it in Jole’s hand, stops.)
Ha, it’s you!
Do not flee!
(He takes hold of her.) For we know each other already!
In my brain I created you, and
Ever since you have grown in my breast like a flower;
From my eyes I watered you day by day,
That you should not wither; girl, do not deny it;
Be silent, even so I understand your words,
For your heart trembles, and your face flushes.

JOLE
Let me go. Youth, you are too bold!
I am to be a wife!

LUTANIST
Mine?

JOLE
Herakles’s.

LUTANIST
No matter, today still mine! It is enough on earth
To live one night through amid bliss.
(He embraces her.) (Euristheus, leading Jolaus by the arm and pointing at Jole, says: "Did you see?")

THE BLOODY SHIRT
Characters: Herakles. Euristheus. Jolaus. Deianejra. Jole. Kaliste and several bondmaids.
A garden. Dusk.

EURISTHEUS
(Enters with Jolaus.)
So you saw the faithful wife, for whom Herakles
Left Deianejra? With a beggar-boy
She makes love on the wedding night.

JOLAUS
Monstrous! What do we do now?

EURISTHEUS
What we do,
Is that what you ask? Is this a time to ask?
Betray Jole.

JOLAUS
Will he believe
A servant’s word? Do it yourself, my lord,
What you charge to me.

EURISTHEUS
(Taken aback.)
I? Fool!
What care have I for that?

JOLAUS
And what have I?

EURISTHEUS
Enough, bad servant! I’ll go then,
And tell your dear, good master,
That his most faithful servant, when
He sees his master’s happiness at stake:
Like the fish, he too listens on in silence;
And then we’ll ponder: why ever
Did Jolaus do this? It may easily be
That we’ll hit on it: Jolaus is a pander.
(He moves to go.)

JOLAUS
Stay! When shall I tell him?

EURISTHEUS
Today,
Here, on this spot, while with his bride
He will be dallying.

JOLAUS
And why just then?

EURISTHEUS
Short-sighted one! The hero, learning that
He has clasped a serpent to his breast:
Will strangle it, and in his grief draw the old wife
Back to his heart.

JOLAUS
Would it were so! I
Will do anything for Deianejra.

EURISTHEUS
Look there, the bride comes! How sleepy she is!
How pale! No wonder; last night
She dallied. Go, my son — I’ll spy out
The guilty one still better.
(Jolaus goes away.) The good fool
I have hoodwinked. I dare attempt anything,
Only not this: to look the great giant
In the eye; for one half-hand of his
Would shake the soul out of me. Fate has fashioned
An instrument for everything, if only there be one who
Knows how to use it, and I know it well.

JOLE
(Sinks against Euristheus’s arm.)
Forgive me, our pact is broken off.

EURISTHEUS
How?
JOLE
I will not help you toward your aim.

EURISTHEUS
Will you not?
You quickly forget the funeral feast you held
Over your father; very quickly, little wife.

JOLE
(With pain.)
That, no, but I dare do nothing!
Euristheus! How shall I deceive him —
Him, the dear boy!

EURISTHEUS
Girl, whom do you mean?

JOLE
The lute — or rather: I mean no one,
I only meant to say: Herakles
May kill me in his wild fury, and I long to live.

EURISTHEUS
(To himself.)
It is all the same now; one way or the other.
(To Jole.) Dear daughter!
True, you are young, and it would be a pity for you,
If in his rage he tore you apart; this only this morning
Did I think over! It is nothing, do not grieve;
Only this one day still play the lover faithfully;
One day is not the world! On the sea
I have a boat — before tomorrow’s dawn
You will flee with me. The world is large enough,
We’ll have room in it.

JOLE
O what need have I
Of a father? In you I have found a new father.

EURISTHEUS
And not a stepfather.

JOLE
One thing more, good father!
Will you take away one youth, whom I wish for?

EURISTHEUS
Why not, three even! The earth trembles,
This is Herakles’s tread. Farewell!

JOLE
Stop one moment, I’ll go with you.
Every vein in my limbs trembles with joy;
I’ll calm it a little. Let us hasten.
(Exit with Euristheus.)

HERAKLES
(Enters.)
My bride does not come, and the evening is here!
(He looks up.)
"The star, the moon, the friend of those
In love," for cold is the light of each,
And such the breast needs, lest in its heat
It melt apart, and burn away;
What would become of the great world,
If every spirit, beast, and plant,
That couples, coupled by day?
The earth would burn, the sky, the sun itself,
The air, the water, and the many gods,
Would dissolve to nothing in the world of fire.
"To love!" This little word, who understands it
As it must be understood? This word: God himself;
Or even more than that: the cradle
Of the gods. Even before they
Were born, and there was yet no thought,
No beginning; already this word was awake.
The motes of dust and the drops of vapor this word
Wedded together, that there might be a world,
And in the world gods. For the world
Is only the child of this wedding, and the gods
Are only the little children of the kindred beings. (Jole enters.)
O Jole, how late you come! Come nearer,
(He snatches her into his arms.)
And melt away with me here: that, mingled
In the very essence of my male blood and my soul,
I may not yearn for a woman, and may outwit
The clay-kneader, who in his drunken rapture
Stamped out the human being in two copies.

JOLE
Herakles, you crush my heart together!
Ah, to love thus I can scarcely bear!

HERAKLES
Then I’ll hold you more gently, my bride,
Why should I break the dew-breast?
But you have not even kissed me yet! Nor I you.
(He kisses her, and Jole grows pale.)
Why do you turn pale, my love?

JOLE
Your beard pricked me!

HERAKLES
I’ll cut it off tomorrow. On my cheek there is no beard,
Press your kiss there, then — the chaste lip’s
First kiss!
JOLAUS
(Steps beside them.)
It is not the first, my lord!
The first she gave yesterday to the lutanist,
For a song.
(Jole shrieks.)

HERAKLES
(Springs up.)
Woman, is it true?

JOLE
(Trembling.)
True! True!

HERAKLES
(With terrible fury.)
Beggar! You cannot love even one,
Yet you want two! A single time
I kissed you, and you stayed pale.
(Laughing mockingly.)
Because my beard pricked you! You shall die, craven woman!
(He lifts her into the air with his arm, to crush her dead.)
What is this? (He lowers the fainted girl.)
The sinew of my arm has stiffened
And I cannot press it shut, that between it
You be ground to pieces! Woman! You soft woman!
What is in you? My arm, clasped to your loins,
Was seized by a magic spark, and it shuddered down
Through the metal vein to the heart;
And I cannot — and I can do nothing!
This hand, that crackled Antaeus:
Cannot crush a single frog-bone.
Look, Jolaus! She still gapes! Look at her!
For I can look no longer! (He turns away.) Ha-ha,
Let us laugh, Jolaus! We cannot anyhow
Do anything else!
(Euristheus enters.) Old man! Laugh with us too!
Ha-ha-ha, so! Jolaus, take hold of my arm,
I am very faint!
(Jolaus leads him to a turf seat.)

EURISTHEUS
(Bends over Jole.)
Are you still alive, girl?

JOLE
(Raises her head.)
You here? When does your boat go?

EURISTHEUS
Never.
(He withdraws.)

JOLE
Ha, this old man has deceived me too!
(She sinks back.)

HERAKLES
(Coldly.)
Jolaus! —
Drive every woman from my house this instant!

JOLAUS
(With pain.)
Every woman!

HERAKLES
I said so.

JOLAUS
My God! What will
Become of us? Great Herakles, every woman
We cannot drive away.

HERAKLES
(Grimly.)
Why?
JOLAUS
Who would do the cooking?

HERAKLES
(Rises.)
Leave me one old one, then.
(Exit.)

JOLAUS
(Shakes Jole.)
First of all
You go! Or lie there still; I’ll soon drive
The rest this way too.
(Exit.)

JOLE
(Drags herself up.)
Euristheus has deceived me!
Ha, craven woman’s nature, craven heart!
You freeze in the slightest storm;
You lose your soul’s vigilance,
When peril nears, and sink to the ground shrieking.
What are you? Is there not as much blood and nerve
In you as in the rough man’s heart?
Why then do you not hold your ground? Why
Do you shrink to the side.
(She puts her hand to her breast.) Now I will tear you out! (Sighing.)
Were you my own: I would do it. — Is there
No other life-instrument in me, that might fight out
My battle? The head, the lip? In vain!
Woman can do battle only with her heart,
And only on such a field, where deceit is needed; (Bitterly.)
Now it is worth nothing; I am found out.
And yet! There is, in vain, no more hope;
I must step down from my course! O it kills me,
This thought! (She clasps her hands together.)
Stop, stop! What was it,
That Deianejra last evening
Held out as a wedding garment to the bridegroom?
A bloody shirt! Why was it a bloody shirt?
And why did she hold it out just at the wedding?
Why did she say, "woe is me," when Herakles
Would not accept it? Why did she cry out once:
"You shall yet love me, Herakles, you shall" —?
Is there not a secret hidden here? Is there not
In the shirt a magic power that could
Be used? This should be probed out;
And this very day. Boldly, only, girl! Yonder comes
Deianejra; now take out all
That you know: for it is your own kind you deceive.
(Deianejra enters.)
Help, help!
(She sinks at her feet.)

DEIANEJRA
You, murderer of my bliss,
You dare still to ask of me? Tell me, what is there left
That I have not given!

JOLE
(Rises.)
One forgiveness.
I have sinned, good lady, against you;
But all my sin: that I am a girl,
And as a young girl, vain enough
To see Herakles for my captive. O Deianejra,
I never loved your husband,
And he too loved only that in me which
Makes the woman; I was not the chosen
Ideal of his dreams; he, having fought out
Every battle on the field of earth, grew melancholy,
And in his boredom took it into his head to love;
Since no other woman was near, his eye
He set on me; and I do not know why: already he loathes me;
Perhaps because his wife too has as much charm
As I; perhaps because his wife too is only a woman,
As I. — Therefore, if you can forget
Your pains, or wish to heal them:
Conquer him again; flatter him,
Or take out everything with which we women
Are wont to enchant; — and live happily!

DEIANEJRA
It is useless! Herakles has scorned me!
What would there be in such a faded breast
That could chain him back?

JOLE
If I remember your words rightly, once
You said: he shall yet love you;
Where is the talisman in which you trusted?

DEIANEJRA
There: that you depart, girl. This is worth more
Than anything. You are still young and pleasing,
You can be happy.

JOLE
If your answer is only this,
Then I will go. But do not forget
That hero Herakles cannot sit at home,
And in the far lands many a fair girl dwells.

DEIANEJRA
Do not say it, do not say it!

JOLE
If so you command,
I will say nothing; but I pity you from my heart,
That you cannot be happy, and could be.

DEIANEJRA
I see a tear on your face, perhaps
The tear of pity! O, surely you too
Are only a woman, as I; and you have a young heart,
That cannot yet be evil; come, and embrace me!
And if my fate concerns you, attend to my words,
And give counsel as to what I should do.
Many years ago, when I was still a girl:
Warriors fought for me, and among them
Nessos thus, a mighty giant;
Fair he was, and tall, as the cedar of the crags,
But still not so glorious a being as Herakles,
Who fought out his battles with the gods,
To win me. One day
After our wedding Herakles took me up,
And bore me toward his homeland; Nessos came with us,
When a broad, deep river wound
Before us, Nessos spoke up: Herakles!
You are smaller than I, where you swim,
I only wade; if you do not take it amiss,
I’ll carry your wife across, and you swim ahead.
Herakles swam, and trembling I clung
To the giant’s arm; and when
He had already reached the riverbed with me,
Nessos turned, carried me back — and mocking
Cried out to my husband: let him follow,
And began to run. Herakles stiffened,
For he knew that if the giant runs,
No one can overtake him; in his great fury
He stamped on the ground, and seized his bow;
The arrow whistled past my breast, and the youth
Sank crumpling into the sand; the color
On his red face yellowed, and his eye
Fixed upon me he spoke: "Deianejra!
The arrow has struck deep, there is no time
To take my leave; receive this as a keepsake;
(Then he quickly drew off his bloody shirt)
If one day the husband whom you now adore,
Tires of you, or begins to cool: have him
Wear this bloody shirt, and his dying love
Will revive again." Then he gripped
My right hand, and with a great laugh stiffened.
Since then I have kept the talisman.

JOLE
And what are you to do now with it?

DEIANEJRA
Perhaps
I’ll tear it up.

JOLE
To tear up your own
Happiness! Give it rather to me.

DEIANEJRA
Girl!
Does an evil spirit speak from you? If it has
Power, you’d allure him to yourself again?
And I should be your instrument?

JOLE
You do not understand me.
What need have I of your dear Herakles?
I can use it for other things too.

DEIANEJRA
Forgive me!
This I had forgotten. What do you think, then,
Shall I put it on him?

JOLE
Why do you ask such folly?
At once, this very day!

DEIANEJRA
Good.

JOLE
(Embraces her.)
O angel-woman!
But you have eased my soul; how quiet
My heart is now! For you shall yet be happy!
Will you remember me sometimes?

DEIANEJRA
Forever, good girl! while only I draw breath.
(She takes her into her arms.)

JOLAUS
(Enters driving a herd of women.)
Ho! Here too there is a companion! Now the love-making
Is over! My ladies!
Herakles drives every woman from him,
So onward!

DEIANEJRA
My God!

JOLE
(Furiously.)
You lie!

JOLAUS
(Throws Jole among the women.)
We’ll soon see! — Now I have herded
You all together. (He looks at them.)
Fair, fair, but a pity that she goes.

KALISTE
Come with us then, if you pity us!

JOLAUS
Just so!
Now into a row! (He lines the women up.)
We cannot starve,
You know that; so from among you
I am allowed to keep one to cook.
Who has a mind to stay here?
SEVERAL WOMEN AT ONCE
I do.

KALISTE
(Strokes Jolaus.)
Keep me, dear good Jolaus!

JOLAUS
Eh, no! I can keep only an old one.

SEVERAL WOMEN
O but
I am old.

JOLAUS
(Smiling.)
If only I dared say it:
I know you’d tear out my mustache!

KALISTE
Faithful Jolaus!

JOLAUS
Not a word! Enough already!
(He takes hold of Deianejra.)
Gracious lady, you stay here,
I choose you; for I believe:
(With feeling.)
Herakles sees you as old enough.

DEIANEJRA
I will repay you, faithful Jolaus.

JOLAUS
(To Jole.)
And you, fair,
Coquettish girl! Go on ahead; your lutanist
Will whistle the march at your heels.

JOLE
Ha, no peasant.
(To Deianejra.) Remember your word.

DEIANEJRA
God bless you!

JOLE
(Moving to go.)
Does the poison of your arrow harm,
Proud hero of your breast? I’ll soon find out!
And if it harms, I’ll come to your funeral feast.
(Exit.)

JOLAUS
Why do you weep, girls! I’ll send your
Sweethearts after you.
(The women go; Jolaus folds his hands across his breast.)
My God!
But my heart aches for so many fair girls.

GODDESS AND MORTAL WOMAN
Characters: Herakles. Jolaus. Hebe. Euristheus. Deianejra. Jole. Philoktetes.
A hall.

DEIANEJRA
(Enters with Euristheus.)
Now give me counsel, what shall I do?

EURISTHEUS
My daughter!
Was Nessos’s garment always bloody?

DEIANEJRA
No; bloody only from his wound.

EURISTHEUS
(To himself.)
Very good!
The arrow was steeped in poison — and the blood
On the shirt is poisoned. — That will do!

DEIANEJRA
What do you ponder?

EURISTHEUS
I am thinking, only Nessos loved you,
And so he gave the shirt,
That you might be happy; for high love
Feels nobly, and the dying man’s
Last farewell is no dissembling.
My daughter, put it to the test, what magic power
Is in it; if it does not help: surely
It will not harm.
DEIANEJRA
And if the wild giant
Deceived me? If he did it only out of vengefulness?
What did the laugh mean too: when
His lip writhed its last?

EURISTHEUS
The laugh
Is the sigh of great souls, when
They die. And besides, there is nothing
To lose; but to gain, there is enough.
Put it on him!

DEIANEJRA
Good, so be it! I’ll do everything;
The worst that can befall is death;
And to one whom the earth cannot make happy,
That is no great punishment.
(Exit.)

EURISTHEUS
A new snare, of which
I never dreamed. Now, God-Herakles,
We shall see: can a man fell you?
(Exit.)

HERAKLES
(Enters with Jolaus.)
Have you driven them out?

JOLAUS
All, my lord! Only one
I kept — a lean little woman.

HERAKLES
Who is it?

JOLAUS
Deianejra.
HERAKLES
(With passion.)
And why precisely her?

JOLAUS
Because she is the oldest of them.

HERAKLES
(Distractedly.)
True, very old;
Otherwise no matter: she or any other.

JOLAUS
No matter indeed; the one is as treacherous
As the other.

HERAKLES
Be off, do not loiter!
(Jolaus goes away. Herakles paces up and down with great strides.)
There is then no woman whom I can love!
All cloy within a few days of my kisses!
They are made for dust, why do I plead for them!
And yet! and yet! — O, I am not well!
When till now I did battle, and in my battle
They bloodied me: laughing I cut my wound
Still larger, that more blood might flow;
And I did not feel: does the open wound ache?
Now a paltry creature has come down with me
To the field, and a vein at the heart’s center
Has snapped in two, though she did not even conquer me,
Only deceived me! Jole! Jole! Ha, why
This name now on my lips? I drove her out!
And trampled her, like a treacherous serpent.
I was born once a child of the god,
And from my mother I gained only my clay-frame;
That I might be a mongrel, son neither of heaven nor earth;
That as a mongrel spirit I might yearn upward;
That as mud I might crawl in the dust of the earth.
Zeus! Zeus! Of your divine nature
You left nothing to me, your mortal son,
Save your blazing, eternal love;
And in this too you cheated me: for if
Heaven does not bow to you, you descend among us,
And stealing our flames, you go back,
And in their place you throw upon the earth
A being of double nature, like me. — Ha-ha-ha!
The tyrant god dares guiltlessly to love
What is ours, and if we
Look up to what is his, like Tityus
He pins us to the back of our earth, and with eagles
Has our breast gnawed apart. And who is the cause?
That we look up? He, the maker!
Why does he not measure how much the machine can bear,
Which Prometheus fashioned out of boredom?
And why does he blow more spirit into it than is enough
Merely to move; — why must it also flutter aloft?
(Thunder.)
Are you angry with me, Zeus? It is all the same to me!
I worship you as my father, not as the lord
Of heaven. — And if you do not disown me, give your son
At last one fair gift,
Give me a woman! For my marrow blazes!
And in an hour I’ll go up bodiless
To your dwelling, to ask: why do you torment me!
You once promised me
Unending life: keep it! Give in its place
A finite one, but happy, like yours up there!
What use are two lives to a thing made of one clay?
What use, if the first passes joyless
Away? What use, if the following one
The body does not enjoy? The nothing-spirit,
Which, you boast, you blew into our statue,
Why does it live on longer than the statue itself?
Or is it life, that in two different
Forms lives two ages? Why do you not leave
Them here together? And what use to you
Up there is the spirit? O, I know, I know!
That you may not grow weary; and that the vapor-beings
May dance around your throne; and that the heavenly
Little women — to admire you — may go to you. (Thunder.)
Zeus, Zeus! If I have wronged you,
Forget it! O, surely you know from yourself,
That the lover, when he struggles, is a fool;
And I plead for a thing that only I
Dare hope for: give me
A being like woman, such a mate to my sex,
Without whom I am not even one;
Name her anything, only give her to me,
But let her be fair, and unwithering,
And one who does not turn pale at a kiss, who in a
Burning breast does not burn away. (Grimly.) Who does not
Deceive me. O give me this, my father, Zeus;
Name her anything, only give her to me!
If a price is needed for her, take my spirit’s
Otherworldly life, and add it to your own;
Or, if your existence is long, and you yourself
Are weary of it: play a fair jest on me,
And annihilate me. — Now you do not thunder, my father!
Perhaps you did not hear what your son begged?
Deaf being! If I revile you, you thunder;
And if I plead with you, you stop your ears!
Should I bellow to you? Give me a being of your kind,
Woman-shaped, but still not a woman!
(Thunder, and Hebe, goddess of youth, descends in light raiment.)
Who are you, spirit-faced girl-figure?
What is the ray that circles your brow?
What is the unwithering glory
That enfolds your being? A divine raiment!
Ha, I worship you, daughter of the stars.
(He falls down.)
You smile, you flush! What is it?
The usual color of your sex? Or do you laugh,
That I kneel? (He springs up.) Spirit, are you mute, then?
Or do you speak in some way other than Herakles understands?
Or is your voice so soft, that our heavy air
Cannot sound it back, and it floats away
Up to heaven again? You do not speak: your lip
Would move. You cannot? O, if you had a mother,
She taught you one word, that I know well —
Your name; say, how does it sound!

HEBE
Hebe.

HERAKLES
Hebe.
I know you well, eternal spring-girl!
You are the one who — when our bone-prison
Tires of the sun’s light, and
Sinks to sleep, and when the young soul,
Stealing itself out from among the machinery,
Begins a new life: a life of dreams —
You appear, and fluttering between the airs
With fairy arms beckon toward us;
For whom with clasped hands we cry,
And fools, while we cry, our tears are stirred
And startling awake we gaze after you.
O, I know you well, I too have seen you before!
And how should I not know you,
Since you are my sister, for your father is Zeus!
Only you are spirit, and I a son of clay;
You up there in your heaven mete out to your thirsting
Gods the fragrance of bliss, the wine of heaven,
While I down here mete out only torments.
Spirit, did you come of yourself, or at the tyrant
Word of our father Zeus?
HEBE
No; you called me!

HERAKLES
Yes, I called you, and why, do you know?
Because I could not go to you. — O girl!
Tell me, do you love up there?
Could I be married there?
Is love not just a will-o’-the-wisp there,
That only flickers, and warms no one?
Are you not perhaps treacherous spirits,
Who lure away the children of earth,
And there, laughing, burn them to dust?
Do not look at me so sullenly! O, surely
If, unable to grasp your being,
I have wronged you, it is no fault of mine — you know well
That I am still clay; surely you are not angry?
Come closer; for my eye has gone blind,
It can scarcely see your heavenly face any more.
You do not stir? Then I will stir
And take you in my arms, though the roof of heaven
Crash down on me. (He moves to take hold of her.)
You begin to vanish! O stop!
For if you go thus unkissed: my arm,
Which is still Herakles’s, will crush you dead. (He seizes her.)

HEBE
(Kisses him, smiling.)
There!

HERAKLES
(Releases her.)
(With pain.) You too deceive, daughter of the gods!
You kissed me, and I feel nothing
In my face! O, you sigh! What does it mean?
Shall I perhaps feel it one day? Do not go! Do not go!
(He strains to take hold of her.)
In vain! I cannot manage you! Girl!
Shall I see you once more?

HEBE
(Comes back.)
At your grave.

HERAKLES
(With passion.)
Ha, at my grave! There will be no wedding there!
For you I gave away my immortal
Future, and for you I was ready
To suffer annihilation: and you, craven spirit,
Will not sacrifice your flowerless, groveless
Heavenly dwelling! Is there no life here below?
Is there here no joy more than in your silver dwelling?
Where everything is nothingness, bottomless
And vaultless cave of light.

HEBE
Do not hurt me,
What you ask cannot be!

HERAKLES
So! It cannot be!
You are then poorer than the man!
For he, if it pleases him, lives, if not, he closes his eyes;
And you live unwilling, for it is your fate to die
And your machine does not permit it; you live to the eternal day; —
And, just that you may live, and be the slave of your fate:
I will not share heaven with you.
(Hebe moves to go, sorrowful.)
But no, even so! A tear quivers in your eye, girl!
You too feel there, and you love as well —
With unwithering faces you smile
Into each other’s eyes! O stop! Herakles,
If he forgets that he is a son of man:
He can share your holy fate.
One word more, Hebe! Await no other bridegroom
In your dwelling, only me!
(Hebe vanishes.) Where is she?
Above. Will she see me one day? At my grave! Ha, that
Is the grave of the half-man-work, and it is hard
To cut one half from a whole, that
The half may yet become a new whole.
(He puts his hand to his breast, and gazes at the sky.)

DEIANEJRA
(Enters.)
Here he is, here, and feverish, as when
The dying man fights his last battle. — Herakles
(She watches secretly.)
Is not as he once was! He totters,
The metal feature on his face has melted,
The wild fire of his eye is sparkless,
The arm has laid down its club and clasped
Stiffens toward heaven! O, now he is fairer than he was!
A charm-ray girds his whole being
And as if he were dissolving among the airs,
So gently he trembles around himself. —

HERAKLES
Goddess!
Do you see me now? Does your eye weep
After me?

DEIANEJRA
(With pain.)
Goddess! So you too
Plead for my Herakles? Not even after the grave
May I have him?

HERAKLES
Who is it that whimpers here?
Why do you roam about me now, woman?

DEIANEJRA
I heard you cry out just now.
HERAKLES
Another time, even if you hear, do not hear.

DEIANEJRA
Herakles!
How weeping your two eyes glitter,
How your breast trembles, how feverish your voice;
Sweat runs down your pale brow,
You are unwell.

HERAKLES
Because you are here; go from me!

DEIANEJRA
How could I leave you in your sickness!
You sweat terribly — cast off the sand-
King’s pelt — it is hot for you,
You’ll scorch beneath it. (She takes it off Herakles.)
There, now it is cooler;
What is the armor for on a man’s breast?

HERAKLES
(Absently.)
You surely will not leave me naked, my lady?

DEIANEJRA
(Draws the bloody shirt from her breast, and puts it on Herakles.)
There, this light garment, it is cool enough.

HERAKLES
You are a good woman after all.

DEIANEJRA
My God!
Why did the soul shudder within my being!
Perhaps? — No — no! Already he calls me good.

HERAKLES
(Roaring.)
The beetle is good to the serpent! The mind
To the fool! Ha-ha-ha, mind! Zeus, Zeus!
(Deianejra totters; at last she collapses. Euristheus spies at the door; Herakles tears at his breast.)
It aches, it aches! Does it ache for you too?
World, where do you soar up with me? Not so high!
I’ll climb down off your back anyway! You heart,
You are round enough, why then do you cramp yourself
Rounder still? — There is nothing the matter! —
My cudgel, Jolaus! There is a battle to fight,
The gods, the giants have come forth
And — they laugh at me. Ha, stop!
I’ll smash you to pieces! (With pain.)
Ah, I cannot fight!
(He grinds his teeth.) It hurts me!
Heaven and hell, you cannot annihilate me!
Herakles is my name. You little clod,
Do not stand in my way, for I’ll step over you.
(He catches sight of Deianejra.) Ujju ju!
I have a great mind to run! Far, far away,
Hebe weeps!
(He runs and falls.)

EURISTHEUS
(Rushes in with extraordinary joy.)
I have won the battle!
A worm has gnawed the mast asunder.

DEIANEJRA
(Lifts her eyes.)
My heart aches! What is this? The hero stiffened!
And above him a wild laugh. — Daemon, who are you?

EURISTHEUS
(Stands over Herakles.)
You no longer even know me, my daughter. Look here,
This deed shows: that Euristheus,
Who else could fell so great a beast?
DEIANEJRA
You, then?

EURISTHEUS
I, and you, and the poisoned shirt;
Feel how stiff the strangling-strong arm is,
It could not crush even a hen’s egg;
Where is your great club now, God-Herakles?
You do not club me dead? Ha-ha!

DEIANEJRA
Strength, Zeus!
Only for one moment.
(She crawls to Herakles, and tears at the shirt.)

EURISTHEUS
Mad woman, what are you doing?
Leave it on him. Ha, the body is not yet cold;
It is only now beginning to cool! Back, I’ll trample you flat!
(He seizes Deianejra’s hand, and tries to pull her from Herakles.)

DEIANEJRA
A thunderbolt, Zeus, for the murderer! Help!
(Philoktetes and Jolaus rush in.)

EURISTHEUS
Mad woman.
(He springs away.)

PHILOKTETES
Gods! What is this, Herakles!
(He falls upon him.)

DEIANEJRA
(Tears off the shirt.)
In vain! He does not move! Herakles! O,
Everything is too late, only death is not.
(She rises to one knee, and stabs through her breast.)
JOLAUS
(Springs over.)
Woman!
(He shakes her.)
She is dead! Herakles wakes! My good lord!
(He runs to him.)

EURISTHEUS
(Seeing Herakles stir, rushes out in despair, dragging with him Jole, who is just about to enter.)
Ha, back, back! The giant lives!

HERAKLES
(Springs up.)
You tormented me, but it did not hurt. (He sees his wife.) And what is this here?
A dead woman? (Laughing wildly.)
So the woman is good, when she is dead!

THE PYRE
Characters: Herakles. Philoktetes. Jolaus. The Lutanist. Jole.
On Mount Oeta a grave is seen, and rocks.

JOLE
(Enters on the lutanist’s arm.)
Euristheus, the bold intriguer,
Has fled in despair. What will become now
Of us, good boy?

LUTANIST
Only come quickly,
For the giant lives, and roams about raging.
Hurry, his house is still in sight! O cling
Closer to my breast, the crag is narrow and deep.
You do not speak? Your lip writhes! O girl,
Forget your sorrow, which tears your life away;
With these little feet we’ll roam together
Through the great world: we’ll play the lute in the meadows,
Sing on the mountains, and like larks
Live out our youth in kiss and song.

JOLE
(Steps down from the crag.)
Go, I will not stir, until a mighty
New mountain grows on the back of the earth: Herakles’s
Grave-mountain. On its summits roar out your song,
Then I am yours.

LUTANIST
This is a child’s fancy!
To fight the vapor with a storm-wind!
Will you stand up to him, if he calls you to combat?
Do you dare to stir or even to look at him,
If, drawing his great brows together,
He glares at you like a lynx? No, no, you
Cannot conquer him, and you will not.
You could not bear even his kiss; how would you
Tire out his iron arms? Little girl!
Give up your plan.

JOLE
I have no plan,
Only to see him; for he suffers, that I know,
And when he suffers, I am renewed.
Perhaps he’ll come to this place, to look upon
The woman’s grave. — Have you not noticed already today
How silent the royal dwelling is? A funeral
Silence and solemnity is there; the menservants
Stand trembling and with bowed heads,
And Philoktetes, the faithful friend, the warrior,
Now weeps in the garden like a child.
And all foretell death; and there is no other to die,
Only he: Herakles.

LUTANIST
I saw it. — Jole, Jole!
Look into the valley, Jolaus comes; after him
Two men, the one I know is Herakles.
If he sees you, he’ll tear you apart! Come behind the crag,
Come, come, do not delay, foolish girl!
(He grasps her.)

JOLE
Let me be!
I am watching him!

LUTANIST
From there too you can do it;
Come, I say, or I’ll curse myself.
(He drags her off.)
JOLAUS
(Enters with an axe.)
Here I buried you, woman who suffered to the end;
That to your wicked Herakles — one day,
If he too lies down to rest, and rises to his heaven —
You may more easily go up. Poor dead one!
There is no one to weep above your green mound
But I, but I alone! The servant weeps
For the wife, whom the husband does not mourn.
Rest. (He begins to chop wood.)
Capricious even now is Herakles.
What is the pile of wood to be for? Or perhaps
We sacrifice for the dead? If so, it is fitting.

HERAKLES
(Enters with Philoktetes.)
Philoktetes, you know Herakles,
And since you know him, you will keep silent.
Jolaus! I charged you with heavy work,
But I’ll ease it. (He breaks off some trees.)
Now carry it all together,
And heap it up.

JOLAUS
Do we sacrifice, my lord?

HERAKLES
Yes.

JOLAUS
I’d like to build a little altar
For myself too.

HERAKLES
Jolaus,
Leave that for another time! Now I alone shall
Sacrifice. — Once more. — Philoktetes,
I embrace you.
(He embraces him.) Why do you weep, old comrade?
Wipe it away, thus I cannot look at you.

PHILOKTETES
You will not turn from your purpose?

HERAKLES
No.

PHILOKTETES
Then
Blessing upon you.
(He grips his hand.)

HERAKLES
(Gives him his arrows and bows.)
One word more! Here, take them.
The heavenly weapon, which has never yet
Missed its mark, and never left life
Where it split the skin,
For it is smeared with poison — and you know
With what. (Whispering.) The female-dragon’s spittle. Take it!

PHILOKTETES
(Takes it and raises it with pain.)
The shaft, the string, the bow in my hand!
And the arm, Herakles?

HERAKLES
It turns to ashes.

PHILOKTETES
(Takes it on his shoulder.)
What use
Is your arrow, if I have not the arm as well! One day
It will be only to my ruin.

HERAKLES
Now leave me here, my friend!
(He embraces Philoktetes, who goes away; Herakles groans dully.)
There is a cramp in my breast! Why is it, that one who
Has never suffered, comes one day
To learn so well to suffer? You proud hero, who could not
Look upon a tear in a man’s eye: now
You’ll spill them yourself too. O, my breast
Aches horribly! Jolaus,
Did you hear what I said?

JOLAUS
No.

HERAKLES
Good.
And if you had heard it: then I lied.
(To himself.) Why should it ache anyway? No one struck me;
Only Jole deceived me — and the bloody shirt.
Ha, no, no! I have conquered all! The girl
I cast out — and the woman I murdered.
Poor Deianejra! Bah, what care have I for her?
The woman is made to love, and
If she can do this no longer, let her perish; what use
Is a being that has lost its seed among the thousand
Plants of the earth, that breed and propagate?
(He halts beside the grave.)
This is her grave, is it not, man?

JOLAUS
It is.

HERAKLES
Your frozen dust,
That it may not cry up to me: I’ll put on you
My pelt. (He throws the lion-skin over it.)
And now between us ceases,
Below on the earth and above the earth,
Every bond. To you my dust, this belongs to
The woman. — My club! You dear travelling-companion,
You I will give to no one; for surely
No one can lift you.
(He throws it on the pyre.) Here is your place!
Now I am unarmed; I have cast off
All with which I fought the world;
And I am free; and so free: as
I have never been: there is no hope, glory-,
Love-craving in my breast; the nobler
Spirit has fought its way out of the earth’s dust;
And no woman troubles its peace any more.
Woman, woman! I would have become a god
Yet, if this beggar creature,
Who is made to hang upon another’s arm,
Did not net me to her soft breast; this beggar —
Who is so wretched that with her own strength
She cannot shine even above the beasts.
A god would come of the sons of men,
If the instinct of love and the lust for woman
Died out or seethed away from our breasts.
O, our body’s immortal life
Only this frenzy snatches away from us,
For its myriad components,
Our blood’s, ceaselessly seethe,
And, weary of the form’s old wedding,
Bring new life-instruments forth into the daylight.
Were there nothing in us that moves,
Only the soul: our body would be eternal,
For the kneaded clay, having no mover,
Its mechanism would stand unchanged —
And though the soul slipped out of it — it would stand.
But what is immortality? Death,
For if it is life: then it goes, it moves;
And to move forever is not possible
For that which in the beginning began to move.
Why do you gore me now, pain? Why?
Torment Herakles, but his spirit
Spare! What did this spirit do to you?
And what has it to do with the breast, with the marrow?
Bah, in vain — torment the body! O in vain,
The two-natured compounds are still chain-links,
They still feel together each other’s torments,
One still draws the other half back
To the old epoch of the earthly course. —
Here is the centaur — here Cerberus bays,
Here the dead woman — here the faithless girl.
(With passion.)
Ha, tempt me no more for one hour’s space,
For then perhaps I cannot even die!
Flee! And take away with you the witchcraft,
That sets the man’s body shuddering together,
When it charges him toward her even from a mile.
Choke into your own machine the quivering fire:
Which from the joined sparks of the male
And the mother once flared into flame in you,
And which only, when shared, can create delight.
Tempt me no longer! I have killed out
All that. I have a bride now,
I am hers. Her you will not take away,
Will you, Deianejra, will you, Jole?
You do not speak — there is silence. Jolaus, build the fire!

JOLAUS
My lord, my lord, what ails you? I have never seen you
Thus before!

HERAKLES
You lie! Nearer!
(He takes hold of Jolaus, and braces him before himself.)
On this face
What do you see that is so striking?

JOLAUS
A paling.

HERAKLES
Does the moon not pale too, when it wanes?
Look not at the color, man: look at the line of grief,
Look at the despairing flashing eye,
Or at a tear; do you see them?

JOLAUS
None of them.

HERAKLES
Touch me, do you feel even a single vein
Stir faster than it is wont?
Is my face hot, or my head?

JOLAUS
(Touches him.)
Cold,
My lord; and on it even death would freeze.

HERAKLES
Build the fire then.
(He steps to the pyre.)

JOLAUS
(Sinks at his feet.)
What will you become, Herakles!

HERAKLES
Dust.

JOLAUS
And I?

HERAKLES
You’ll be left to starve.

JOLAUS
(Clasps his knees.)
Do not leave your people orphaned; do not leave
The earth without a warrior! Bring down the tree,
Why kill yourself, you who bore upon your shoulders
The earth, whose mace is good and great
For battering the vaults of heaven, and hurling down
The star, the moon, and the sun?
O why kill yourself, you whom no one is able
To kill?

HERAKLES
Because he fears that perhaps
There might be found one who would make him die.
Not one word more, dear Jolaus! (He raises him up.)

JOLAUS
(Raises his hand to heaven.)
What you say, stands. May I be allowed
To share your fate?

HERAKLES
No; you will
Bury my ashes. (He steps onto the pyre.)
One fathom nearer
To heaven, and one fathom farther
From the earth! Flung between two worlds,
To which shall I reach out my right hand, I do not know?
The body craves downward, and the thought upward!
Do not struggle, do not struggle! I’ll divide you:
You, bone: rattle back down to your mother earth,
And burrowing into her breast unite with her;
You, fluid, you, the life-moving matter:
With the smoke of my pyre rise to your future homeland,
Where there is no earthly woman with her lure of charm;
Where existence and death stand in one copy;
Where the breeding-force begets itself
Without woman, and its being is a circle
Beginningless and endless; where the kiss of love
Is only the glory circling the spirits.
What too is life here below? A momentary
Dream-agony, or a dream-Eden;
What is this earth? A clod of mud, which Zeus kicked off
The sole of his sandal, and it spinning
Fell into nothingness — and this
Little mud we believe to be the world, and measure
Its life out into thousands of years. —
Whereas, on the reckoning clock of infinity
It is the existence of one millisecond only.
What is woman, and man? She, the flower
Opening at dawn, that wept dew into her breast —
He, a fire-ember that in its wild heat
Fell into her breast, and burns it down,
And from the dew quivering within is quenched.
I leave you then, world! But do not say
That you conquered me! And you, woman,
Do not say either that for your sake I burn away,
Or, if you say it: now say it to my face.
(He struggles with himself.)
No, no, but still — it is so!

JOLE
(Springs down from the rock.)
O let me go!
I’ll tear down the tyrant’s vainest
Belief.

HERAKLES
Not for a woman’s sake, no; and who would dare
To say it?

JOLE
(Steps before him.)
I!

HERAKLES
(Leaps down.)
Ha, you! (Laughs.) Ha-ha-ha!
Come then, burn with me! Jolaus, fire!
(He drags Jole onto the pyre; Jolaus brings fire.)

JOLE
(Shrieks.)
Do not hurt me, do not hurt me!
LUTANIST
(Rushes down.)
O have mercy on her!

HERAKLES
No, burn! Then, when your tongue sizzles,
Then say, you conquered me.

JOLE
I did not conquer you.

HERAKLES
No matter now. You shall not deceive me ever again!
Do not bellow over my grave: I conquered him.
(With mad joy.)
Let us burn! Let us burn! Then on your ashes
This lute-player will bellow his song.

JOLE
(In despair.)
O mercy, man!
I cannot die!

HERAKLES
(Pushes her off.)
Coward, you!
Together we cannot die! Fire for myself!
(The pyre smokes.)
(To the lutanist.)
She did not die, O, do not fear — not so quickly
Is she wont to die!
(The lutanist takes Jole in his arms, and moves off with her.)
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
(He laughs long.)
I conquered her, I conquered her myself.
Herakles conquered Herakles.
(The pyre blazes.)
Burn,
Jolaus! I do not thirst, do not bring water!
Are you coming now, Hebe? My grave crumbles —
Hold out your lightning face, and your kiss,
Your heaven-kiss, your heaven-kiss!
(He spreads his hand upward.)

HEBE
(Bends over the pyre.)
There.
(The pyre collapses.)