Chapter 20
ATALANTA. Of a dramatic version of Greek myths and hero tales, by Fanny Amanda Comstock. This is a LibroRoxx recording. All LibroRoxx recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibroRoxx.org. Characters ATALANTA'S FATHER. Read by Alan Mapstone.
HIP HOMINES. Read by John Hunter. FIRST WOMAN. Read by Sonya. WOMEN. Read by Shrimpfish. THIRD WOMAN. Read by Agnes Robert-Bear. FIRST MAN. Read by Chuck Williamson.
SECOND MAN. Read by Brian Fullen. THIRD MAN. Read by David Purdy. FOURTH MAN. Read by Red Ron. ATALANTA. Read by Philomena Sherwood. SAGE DIRECTIONS. Read by Inkel.
ATALANTA. SCENE ONE. The home of Atalanta in Arcadia. Atalanta tells the father of her wish to remain single. What did the voice of the oracle disclose, Atalanta? Is a long and happy life to be yours? Yes, if I have courage and resolution to make it so.
This was the command of the oracle. Thou dost not need a husband, Atalanta. Avoid marriage, and yet thou wilt not avoid it, And while still living wilt lose thyself. That is a hard decree, my daughter. My mind is made up. I wish not to marry. I will live a happy single life in the shady woods. I fear your many suitors will not easily be turned away.
I have a plan which will free me from their troublesome demands. I will say to all suitors, I promise to be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race. But death must be the penalty of all who try and fail. They will not risk the hard condition. Do not be too sure. Some may be rash enough to venture.
If they do, I can outstrip them in the race. From long following the chase, I am fearless and swift. Can you be stern enough to give sentence of death to those who fail? Not I, but they themselves will give the sentence. They know the conditions to which they are bound.
Suppose one outstrips you. What then? That will never be. I can outrun them all. Scene 2. The people are assembled to watch the race between Atalanta and her suitors. Hippomenes is among the spectators. Who would have thought Eni could be found to run such a dangerous race?
See the suitors who have come? Not a woman living where she, beautiful as Venus herself, could tempt me to run such a risk if I were a man. And I, being a man, marvel that Eni should seek a wife amid so great dangers. Atalanta throws her mantle aside. Never have I seen so great beauty before.
Pardon me, you at whom I wondered. I had not seen the reward for which you contend. Why is my chance in this contest left untried? Jove himself assists the daring. The race between Atalanta and the suitors begins.
It goes on outside. The people watch. Is she not beautiful as she runs? The breeze seems to give wings to her feet. Her hair streams over her shoulders, and a gay fringe of her garment flutters behind her.
A ruddy you tinges the whiteness of her skin. Such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble wall. Look! Atalanta has won the race. I pity the poor suitors. Death for them, and the feastal crown for Atalanta.
Hippomenes rising and addressing Atalanta. Why boast of conquering those laggards? I offer myself for the contest. If fortune shall give me the victory, you will not be disgraced in being outstripped by me,
for I am of high descent, and my deeds are known. Or if I be defeated, in the conquest of Hippomenes you will win fame. What god can tempt one so young and beauteous to throw away his life? I pity him, not for his beauty, yet he is beautiful, but for his youth. I wish he would give up the race, or else I hope he may outrun me.
Help me, Venus, for you have led me on. Give three golden apples. They shall win the race for me. Hippomenes picks up three golden apples and runs off. I thank thee, Venus.
Do not wait longer, Atalanta, lest the people grow impatient. Prepare for the race. Now, Hippomenes, do your best. Haste, haste! You gain on her.
Faster, Hippomenes. One more effort, and you leave her behind. You are almost at the turning point, Hippomenes. Look, Hippomenes drops a golden apple to the ground. She stoops to pick it up.
Hippomenes is ahead. Now Atalanta overtakes him. He throws another apple. Again she stoops, and Hippomenes passes her. And again she overtakes him.
The goal is near. Do your best, Hippomenes, death or a bride. Look at Hippomenes. See how he throws another apple obliquely to one side. She looks at the apple and hesitates.
Now she turns aside for it, and Hippomenes wins the race. The spectators applaud Hippomenes. End of Atalanta.
