(But, like a DVD commentary track, do beware spoilers.)
Also, some text is in red, which indicates that these sections most likely will be cut out during performances, but have been kept in this edition for the enjoyment of the reader.
PART TWO: THE PLAY
Cupid and Psyche ~
A New Play in Blank Verse
Emily C. A. Snyder
Persons of the Play
In Order of Appearance
APHRODITE.
The goddess of Love and mother of Cupid.
PERSEPHONE.
The goddess of Death, married to Hades.
DAREIA.
Psyche’s sister, married to Chrysos. (Pronounced DARE-ee-ah.)
LIVIA.
Psyche’s sister, in love with Brontes.
CHRYSOS.
Psyche’s brother-in-law, married to Dareia. (Pronounced CRIE-sose.)
BRONTES.
Chrysos’ friend, beloved by Livia. A “Cyclops,” he has only one eye. (Pronounced BRON-tays.)
PSYCHE.
The daughter of Thanos; she will not love.
CUPID.
The god of Passion, Aphrodite’s son.
ADONIS.
The mortal lover of both Aphrodite and Persephone. He was forced to drink ambrosia, making him immortal.
THANOS.
The father of Psyche, Dareia, and Livia. (Pronounced TAN-ose.)
Workshop and Performance History
From 2008-2014
The first workshop performance of Cupid and Psyche was presented in Boston on April 18, 2009 at Emerson College. The cast and crew were as follows:
CUPID. Joseph Gianoni
PSYCHE. Lindsey Hamby-Real
APHRODITE. Annie Finnerty
PERSEPHONE. Stephanie Evatt
ADONIS/BRONTES. Ryan Gonor
DAREIA. Katie Teigan
LIVIA. Audrey Stuck-Girard
CHRYSOS. Peter Anderson
THANOS. Kate Bromley
DIRECTOR. Brenda Huggins
STAGE MANAGER. Randi Rose
COSTUMES, MASKS & MAKE-UP. Sydney Robinson
The first New York City premiere of Cupid and Psyche will be presented in New York City on Valentine’s Day weekend, 2014 at TBG Theatre by Turn to Flesh Productions. The cast is as follows:
CUPID. James Parenti
PSYCHE. Erin Nelson
APHRODITE. Laura Hooper
PERSEPHONE. Gwen Sisco
ADONIS. Parker Madison
DAREIA. Laura Iris Hill
LIVIA. Kelly Laurel Zekas
CHRYSOS. Patrick Marran
BRONTES. Jon Adam Ross
THANOS. Stanley Burturla.
DIRECTOR/PLAYWRIGHT. Emily C. A. Snyder
PRODUCING DIRECTOR. Michelle Kafel
GENERAL MANAGER. DreamCatcher Entertainment
VERSE COACH/DRAMATURG. Alix Rosenfeld
STAGE MANAGER. Tyler Winthrop
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to the many talented actors and advocates who assisted in the development of this play, through informal workshops, private readings, coffee shop discussions, generous donations, and ruthless revisions. In a particular way, thanks to the Emerson College Graduate program, The Small Theatre Alliance of Boston, and DARE Lab in New York City for space in which to experiment; Bernard Lloyd and Vivien Heilbron who taught John Barton’s approach to verse, and Maureen Shea who taught Kristen Linklater; Kate, Jillian, Susannah and Alix for their dramaturgical insights; Michelle Kafel without whom I should never have flown, and Brenda Huggins without whom I should never have written.
And thanks, thanks, and always thanks to Mum and Dad who taught me what marriage means, through trials and triumphs and peanut butter sandwiches. Love you both.
Dedication
For Brenda, full of sight.
Act I, Scene 1
(A wedding reception for CHRYSOS and DAREIA, attended by gods and mortals. Enter APHRODITE and PERSEPHONE.)
APHRODITE.
It seems meet, Persephone, that we two
Goddesses—
PERSEPHONE.
—Nemeses—
APHRODITE.
—And sister friends
Should here conjoin and fearful blessings give
Those mortals who would wed and kiss and live.
What have you brought?
PERSEPHONE.
Two golden coins; Charon’s simple fee.
That when these lovers come, as ev’ry lover must,
To my beloved and me, they may pay their way.
And you?
APHRODITE.
Oh, they are drunk already on what I’ve given
For they have sipped the wine of Heaven—
And now no other drink will satisfy.
PERSEPHONE.
So will they quickly wither and die
And come this night to me. You’re generous, Love.
And yet, methinks, I know a Trojan horse
When it stands outside my door. Adonis
Comes this night to me, as Zeus decreed:
One third the year for you; one third for me.
APHRODITE.
One third the year his own—
PERSEPHONE.
—And we shall see
Which one of us Adonis better loves.
A painted crone?
APHRODITE.
A thief of love?
PERSEPHONE.
The whore of Heaven?
APHRODITE.
A maggot’s mistress?
PERSEPHONE.
An aging—
APHRODITE.
Sister!
Let’s leave our quarrel in the streams of Time.
Here at this wedding feast, Love reigns supreme
Though Death lurks jealous at the bower door.
Love shall conquer Death.
PERSEPHONE.
I do not think it.
A man begins to die at his own birth
And every lover’s bed lies in the earth.
Death shall conquer Love.
APHRODITE.
Well, we shall see.
The single span of man’s brief thread is short—
It’s true. But while you would snip it, would snap it,
Would snatch it from those quavering lips
With your own lips thirsting for their panting breath,
With your own lips that give no life but death—
I breathe into their brief days a greater joy;
My lips are the bows, my kisses are bolts:
Fletched with sighs and tipped with velvet
And tender tongues. Man groans for me as he groans
For you. Within my arms the mortal dies,
And from his corpse and mine, new life arise.
The more glory I give to men, the great glory
He gives to me; for I am his mirror and his opposite.
I fear no man.
PERSEPHONE.
No man? Perhaps. But do you women fear?
APHRODITE.
Women? Wherefore? ‘Tis said she is the weaker sex
And of a truth, she is more easily vexed
By my son’s arrows than the stubborn hearts of men.
A downy cheek, a kindly word, and then
Down falls she into a hoary net
Woven of her own desires. I find no sport in this.
PERSEPHONE.
And yet she finds ripe sport in you.
APHRODITE.
What’s that?
PERSEPHONE.
Upon my unmarked, empty grave—it’s true!
While you, dear sister, have lilting rhymes devised
Perjuring the frailty of women’s eyes
The eyes, yea, and the hearts of men have turned
From you and trained again upon a mortal—
A woman no less! Of no great stature,
Breeding or beauty. She can scarce compare
To your fletched lips or your endarting eye.
&n
bsp; And yet all men gaze on her; aye, and women, too.
But these mortal things mean nothing to you.
Let her shine as brightly as she will!
She cannot eclipse your beauty!
APHRODITE.
And still…
Who is she? What is this creature’s name? Where does she sit? And how is’t I did not know of her before?
PERSEPHONE.
Psyche is her name. And they say she will not love.
But here comes the bride bedecked in virginal whites.
APHRODITE.
A colour less appropriate by my lights!
She should have rather worn a carnal red
For all the times she’s graced the wedding bed.
DAREIA.
(Entering.) Friends! You are both well come! Have you yet dined? It seems you never eat—as I’m sure I never do as well! I’ve been three months a-starving, and yet look at my figure! But these flowers, I swear, are darling divine—that clever boy there with the mischievous eyes gave them to me. Their smell is intoxicating; it makes me want to rip off my dress! Except that it cost my Chrysos ever so much—don’t you think it’s exquisite? The beading alone is worth a small fortune. I am sure were I to see me now, as I am, I would turn me envious green! But here comes my sister, sallow as ever, moaning out melancholies. She will not agree with me, but sisters never do, you know. Livia!
LIVIA.
(Entering.) Who calls?
DAREIA.
Good Lord! She’s as deaf as a post! She has but one good ear, you know, and one good eye. I daresay she has one good nostril! Livia, I was just saying how exquisitely I looked! A radiant bride! Don’t you agree?
LIVIA.
You look well enough. But not half as well as I would look, were I you.
DAREIA.
When you are bride, I daresay if, you will look as well as you can. But ‘til that day, if it ever come, you must curtsey and say that I am fairest.
LIVIA.
I shall not call you fairest, not even today. Irina is more fair than you, for she had no need to buy her betrothèd’s love.
DAREIA.
I never bought my Chrysos’ love!
LIVIA.
No, you’re right; our father did.
DAREIA.
I hate Irina.
LIVIA.
As do I.
DAREIA.
What right has Irina to be happy with her lover here, on my wedding day! If I cannot be happy, Irina should not be happy! I wish she were dead.
LIVIA.
A terrible wish.
DAREIA.
Then I wish she were like Psyche, made of stone.
APHRODITE.
Psyche?
LIVIA.
Our sister. There—she sits by herself.
DAREIA.
She is so strange. I am sure I do not understand her.
APHRODITE.
Why does she sit, so silent, so estranged?
LIVIA.
She is proud and will admit no company but he who can match her.
DAREIA.
Yet who can match that biting tongue—nay! Or who should so desire? Still, admirers she has aplenty.
LIVIA.
Had I half as many admirers as she, I would not be proud.
DAREIA.
Had you, Livia, a single beau, you should be less gloomy than you are. Can you not get her a beau?
APHRODITE.
A bow indeed is what you require;
But not one of mine. Dareia, my dear,
I much desire to meet this silent sister.
Will you introduce me to Psyche, my sweet?
DAREIA.
Introduction can I make, but make her speak,
I cannot. ‘Twould take thunderstorm, wind, fire,
Earth-crack or death to loose her stubborn lips!
Psyche moves for neither God nor man.
APHRODITE.
You shall find me the epitome of patience.
PERSEPHONE.
I have no doubt.
APHRODITE.
Sister, will you come?
PERSEPHONE.
I shall meet her soon enough. Go along.
I am always here at the end of things.
(PERSEPHONE exits. APHRODITE joins DAREIA and LIVIA to seek out PSYCHE, who is surrounded by admirers, among them CHRYSOS and BRONTES.)
DAREIA.
Well, I hope you are prepared. Here she is. Along with every unmarried man…and every married one, as well! Chrysos! Husband! Look not on her. I have told you so already. You promised that you would never look!
CHRYSOS.
I am not looking, love! Or if so, then with one eye only.
DAREIA.
One eye? Paugh! I see both your straying eyes fixed on her right well!
CHRYSOS.
No, no! Only one! The other belongs to my good friend here.
DAREIA.
To whom?
CHRYSOS.
To Brontes.
DAREIA.
Horrible man.
CHRYSOS.
Wonderful friend!
LIVIA.
Lovely one.
BRONTES.
Listening.
OTHERS.
Oh…
(LIVIA scurries to one side.)
BRONTES.
Chrysos, my shackled friend, I would not dare to come between you and your bride today. She is as jealous as you are of your sight, for now it is hers, and every straying glance is known, as mine once was by she who holds my second eye. Either rip your own eye out and gaze upon the ripeness of Psyche’s breasts and pouting lips, or else depart with eyes intact and marriage, too. I shall stay—but you should go.
CHRYSOS.
Go? I swore the riches of my heart,
(Which remains ever faithful to my bride—
And to the sisters of my blushing bride),
I swore my heart, but never swore my eyes.
BRONTES.
I don’t think she’ll agree.
DAREIA.
So think I likewise! Chrysos, greedy man, be gone! Fetch me some wine. Speak with my father. Find yourself another friend.
BRONTES.
You’d better go.
DAREIA.
And you as well!
CHRYSOS.
Dareia! My love! My wife!
DAREIA.
Aye, I am your wife, although perhaps not quite your love!
BRONTES.
Peace, woman, peace! Chrysos, let us enjoy the company of friends. These harpies’ shrieks are much too much for me to bear!
CHRYSOS.
I’d rather stay.
LIVIA.
(To BRONTES.) I’ll go along with you. I don’t care for Psyche, or the company of women. I’ll go along.
BRONTES.
You’ll go alone. I wouldn’t have you following me with your rheumy eye and dullard tooth. Farewell and follow me no more. Chrysos, come. There are women aplenty in this world. Dareia, adieu.
(Exeunt BRONTES and CHRYSOS.)
LIVIA.
And Livia?
No, he will not speak to me. His blind eye
Turns to look on me, while my best eye
Looks longingly on him. Ah me. (Exits.)
DAREIA.
Psyche! Psyche! She can hear us but will not speak. She is caught up in that brain of hers; her very thoughts are traps. Psyche! Psyche! Here is a friend of mine. Her name I have forgot, or never knew, but she was there when I first met Chrysos, and now I think, was there when first we kissed, and she is here now and desires much to speak with you. This is a common request. Everyone wants to speak with Psyche. I can see why she pretends to be a mute. For myself, I should not weary of conversation, but she sits with her thoughts, and they are so loud that although she has two good ears and one good tongue, she will not listen or then speak. It is most aggravating. Psyche! Psyche!
APHRODITE.
Let me alone with her. It may be that she doesn�
��t speak because you do not stop.
(Dareia exits.)
APHRODITE.
She is gone. And you have no need to speak.
I only longed to look on you. They say
That you are beautiful! Are you beautiful?
You must think yourself very beautiful
To have gathered so many hearts with so…
Little effort; so little assistance. For I
Did not assist you. Do you know who I am?
Can you guess? Speak.
Or do not speak. It makes no mind to me.
But you do not answer me, Psyche.
I bid you answer me. I conjure you.
I command you! I will have you speak or…
I will speak for you! And speak in such vile tones
That those who gaze with eyes aglaze
Will find in you beauty. I will do this, Psyche,
I will curse you, Psyche. Speak! One word!
One delicate phrase, one damning verb, one
Sound—a laugh, a cry, a curse, a plea—Speak!
Tell me why men follow you; why they love you
These finger-fumbled men…When you have never
Cupid and Psyche Page 4
