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Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot the Tyrant. a Tragedy in Two Acts

Percy Bysshe Shelley·1792–1822
Lines:1018Movement:Romanticism
TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL DORIC. 'Choose Reform or Civil War,When through thy streets, instead of hare with dogs,A CONSORT-QUEEN shall hunt a king with hogs,Riding on the IONIAN MINOTAUR.' SCENE.--THEBES. ACT 1. SCENE 1.1.--A MAGNIFICENT TEMPLE, BUILT OF THIGH-BONES ANDDEATH'S-HEADS, AND TILED WITH SCALPS. OVER THE ALTAR THE STATUE OFFAMINE, VEILED; A NUMBER OF BOARS, SOWS, AND SUCKING-PIGS, CROWNEDWITH THISTLE, SHAMROCK, AND OAK, SITTING ON THE STEPS, AND CLINGINGROUND THE ALTAR OF THE TEMPLE. ENTER SWELLFOOT, IN HIS ROYAL ROBES, WITHOUT PERCEIVING THE PIGS. SWELLFOOT:Thou supreme Goddess! by whose power divineThese graceful limbs are clothed in proud array[HE CONTEMPLATES HIMSELF WITH SATISFACTION.]Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunchSwells like a sail before a favouring breeze,And these most sacred nether promontoriesLie satisfied with layers of fat; and theseBoeotian cheeks, like Egypt's pyramid,(Nor with less toil were their foundations laid),Sustain the cone of my untroubled brain,That point, the emblem of a pointless nothing!Thou to whom Kings and laurelled Emperors,Radical-butchers, Paper-money-millers,Bishops and Deacons, and the entire armyOf those fat martyrs to the persecutionOf stifling turtle-soup, and brandy-devils,Offer their secret vows! Thou plenteous CeresOf their Eleusis, hail! SWINE:Eigh! eigh! eigh! eigh! SWELLFOOT:Ha! what are ye,Who, crowned with leaves devoted to the Furies,Cling round this sacred shrine? SWINE:Aigh! aigh! aigh! SWELLFOOT:What! ye that areThe very beasts that, offered at her altarWith blood and groans, salt-cake, and fat, and inwards,Ever propitiate her reluctant willWhen taxes are withheld? SWINE:Ugh! ugh! ugh! SWELLFOOT:What! ye who grubWith filthy snouts my red potatoes upIn Allan's rushy bog? Who eat the oatsUp, from my cavalry in the Hebrides?Who swill the hog-wash soup my cooks digestFrom bones, and rags, and scraps of shoe-leather,Which should be given to cleaner Pigs than you? SWINE--SEMICHORUS 1:The same, alas! the same;Though only now the nameOf Pig remains to me. SEMICHORUS 2:If 'twere your kingly willUs wretched Swine to kill,What should we yield to thee? SWELLFOOT:Why, skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar. CHORUS OF SWINE:I have heard your Laureate sing,That pity was a royal thing;Under your mighty ancestors, we PigsWere bless'd as nightingales on myrtle sprigs,Or grasshoppers that live on noonday dew,And sung, old annals tell, as sweetly too;But now our sties are fallen in, we catchThe murrain and the mange, the scab and itch;Sometimes your royal dogs tear down our thatch,And then we seek the shelter of a ditch;Hog-wash or grains, or ruta-baga, noneHas yet been ours since your reign begun. FIRST SOW:My Pigs, 'tis in vain to tug. SECOND SOW:I could almost eat my litter. FIRST PIG:I suck, but no milk will come from the dug. SECOND PIG:Our skin and our bones would be bitter. THE BOARS:We fight for this rag of greasy rug,Though a trough of wash would be fitter. SEMICHORUS:Happier Swine were they than we,Drowned in the Gadarean sea--I wish that pity would drive out the devils,Which in your royal bosom hold their revels,And sink us in the waves of thy compassion!Alas! the Pigs are an unhappy nation!Now if your Majesty would have our bristlesTo bind your mortar with, or fill our colonsWith rich blood, or make brawn out of our gristles,In policy--ask else your royal Solons--You ought to give us hog-wash and clean straw,And sties well thatched; besides it is the law! SWELLFOOT:This is sedition, and rank blasphemy!Ho! there, my guards! [ENTER A GUARD.] GUARD:Your sacred Majesty. SWELLFOOT:Call in the Jews, Solomon the court porkman,Moses the sow-gelder, and ZephaniahThe hog-butcher. GUARD:They are in waiting, Sire. [ENTER SOLOMON, MOSES, AND ZEPHANIAH.] SWELLFOOT:Out with your knife, old Moses, and spay those Sows[THE PIGS RUN ABOUT IN CONSTERNATION.]That load the earth with Pigs; cut close and deep.Moral restraint I see has no effect,Nor prostitution, nor our own example,Starvation, typhus-fever, war, nor prison--This was the art which the arch-priest of FamineHinted at in his charge to the Theban clergy--Cut close and deep, good Moses. MOSES:Let your MajestyKeep the Boars quiet, else-- SWELLFOOT:Zephaniah, cutThat fat Hog's throat, the brute seems overfed;Seditious hunks! to whine for want of grains. ZEPHANIAH:Your sacred Majesty, he has the dropsy;--We shall find pints of hydatids in 's liver,He has not half an inch of wholesome fatUpon his carious ribs-- SWELLFOOT:'Tis all the same,He'll serve instead of riot money, whenOur murmuring troops bivouac in Thebes' streetsAnd January winds, after a dayOf butchering, will make them relish carrion.Now, Solomon, I'll sell you in a lumpThe whole kit of them. SOLOMON:Why, your Majesty,I could not give-- SWELLFOOT:Kill them out of the way,That shall be price enough, and let me hearTheir everlasting grunts and whines no more! [EXEUNT, DRIVING IN THE SWINE.ENTER MAMM0N, THE ARCH-PRIEST,AND PURGANAX, CHIEF OF THE COUNCIL OF WIZARDS.] PURGANAX:The future looks as black as death, a cloud,Dark as the frown of Hell, hangs over it--The troops grow mutinous--the revenue fails--There's something rotten in us--for the levelOf the State slopes, its very bases topple,The boldest turn their backs upon themselves! MAMMON:Why what's the matter, my dear fellow, now?Do the troops mutiny?--decimate some regiments;Does money fail?--come to my mint--coin paper,Till gold be at a discount, and ashamedTo show his bilious face, go purge himself,In emulation of her vestal whiteness. PURGANAX:Oh, would that this were all! The oracle!! MAMMON:Why it was I who spoke that oracle,And whether I was dead drunk or inspired,I cannot well remember; nor, in truth,The oracle itself! PURGANAX:The words went thus:--'Boeotia, choose reform or civil war!When through the streets, instead of hare with dogs,A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs,Riding on the Ionian Minotaur.' MAMMON:Now if the oracle had ne'er foretoldThis sad alternative, it must arrive,Or not, and so it must now that it has;And whether I was urged by grace divineOr Lesbian liquor to declare these words,Which must, as all words must, he false or true,It matters not: for the same Power made all,Oracle, wine, and me and you--or none--'Tis the same thing. If you knew as muchOf oracles as I do-- PURGANAX:You arch-priestsBelieve in nothing; if you were to dreamOf a particular number in the Lottery,You would not buy the ticket? MAMMON:Yet our ticketsAre seldom blanks. But what steps have you taken?For prophecies, when once they get abroad,Like liars who tell the truth to serve their ends,Or hypocrites who, from assuming virtue,Do the same actions that the virtuous do,Contrive their own fulfilment. This Iona--Well--you know what the chaste Pasiphae did,Wife to that most religious King of Crete,And still how popular the tale is here;And these dull Swine of Thebes boast their descentFrom the free Minotaur. You know they stillCall themselves Bulls, though thus degenerate,And everything relating to a BullIs popular and respectable in Thebes.Their arms are seven Bulls in a field gules;They think their strength consists in eating beef,--Now there were danger in the precedentIf Queen Iona-- PURGANAX:I have taken good careThat shall not be. I struck the crust o' the earthWith this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare!And from a cavern full of ugly shapesI chose a LEECH, a GADFLY, and a RAT.The Gadfly was the same which Juno sentTo agitate Io, and which Ezekiel mentionsThat the Lord whistled for out of the mountainsOf utmost Aethiopia, to tormentMesopotamian Babylon. The beastHas a loud trumpet like the scarabee,His crooked tail is barbed with many stings,Each able to make a thousand wounds, and eachImmedicable; from his convex eyesHe sees fair things in many hideous shapes,And trumpets all his falsehood to the world.Like other beetles he is fed on dung--He has eleven feet with which he crawls,Trailing a blistering slime, and this foul beastHas tracked Iona from the Theban limits,From isle to isle, from city unto city,Urging her flight from the far ChersoneseTo fabulous Solyma, and the Aetnean Isle,Ortygia, Melite, and Calypso's Rock,And the swart tribes of Garamant and Fez,Aeolia and Elysium, and thy shores,Parthenope, which now, alas! are free!And through the fortunate Saturnian land,Into the darkness of the West. MAMMON:But ifThis Gadfly should drive Iona hither? PURGANAX:Gods! what an IF! but there is my gray RAT:So thin with want, he can crawl in and outOf any narrow chink and filthy hole,And he shall creep into her dressing-room,And-- MAMMON:My dear friend, where are your wits? as ifShe does not always toast a piece of cheeseAnd bait the trap? and rats, when lean enoughTo crawl through SUCH chinks-- PURGANAX:But my LEECH--a leechFit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings,Capaciously expatiative, which makeHis little body like a red balloon,As full of blood as that of hydrogen,Sucked from men's hearts; insatiably he sucksAnd clings and pulls--a horse-leech, whose deep mawThe plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,And who, till full, will cling for ever. MAMMON:ThisFor Queen Jona would suffice, and less;But 'tis the Swinish multitude I fear,And in that fear I have-- PURGANAX:Done what? MAMMON:DisinheritedMy eldest son Chrysaor, because heAttended public meetings, and would alwaysStand prating there of commerce, public faith,Economy, and unadulterate coin,And other topics, ultra-radical;And have entailed my estate, called the Fool's Paradise,And funds in fairy-money, bonds, and bills,Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina,And married her to the gallows. [1] PURGANAX:A good match! MAMMON:A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroomIs of a very ancient family,Of Hounslow Heath, Tyburn, and the New Drop,And has great influence in both Houses;--oh!He makes the fondest husband; nay, TOO fond,--New-married people should not kiss in public;But the poor souls love one another so!And then my little grandchildren, the gibbets,Promising children as you ever saw,--The young playing at hanging, the elder learningHow to hold radicals. They are well taught too,For every gibbet says its catechismAnd reads a select chapter in the BibleBefore it goes to play. [A MOST TREMENDOUS HUMMING IS HEARD.] PURGANAX:Ha! what do I hear? [ENTER THE GADFLY.] MAMMON:Your Gadfly, as it seems, is tired of gadding. GADFLY:Hum! hum! hum!From the lakes of the Alps, and the cold gray scalpsOf the mountains, I come!Hum! hum! hum!From Morocco and Fez, and the high palacesOf golden Byzantium;From the temples divine of old Palestine,From Athens and Rome,With a ha! and a hum!I come! I come! All inn-doors and windowsWere open to me:I saw all that sin does,Which lamps hardly seeThat burn in the night by the curtained bed,--The impudent lamps! for they blushed not red,Dinging and singing,From slumber I rung her,Loud as the clank of an ironmonger;Hum! hum! hum! Far, far, far!With the trump of my lips, and the sting at my hips,I drove her--afar!Far, far, far!From city to city, abandoned of pity,A ship without needle or star;--Homeless she passed, like a cloud on the blast,Seeking peace, finding war;--She is here in her car,From afar, and afar;--Hum! hum! I have stung her and wrung her,The venom is working;--And if you had hung herWith canting and quirking,She could not be deader than she will be soon;--I have driven her close to you, under the moon,Night and day, hum! hum! ha!I have hummed her and drummed herFrom place to place, till at last I have dumbed her,Hum! hum! hum! [ENTER THE LEECH AND THE RAT.] LEECH:I will suckBlood or muck!The disease of the state is a plethory,Who so fit to reduce it as I? RAT:I'll slily seize andLet blood from her weasand,--Creeping through crevice, and chink, and cranny,With my snaky tail, and my sides so scranny. PURGANAX:Aroint ye! thou unprofitable worm![TO THE LEECH.]And thou, dull beetle, get thee back to hell![TO THE GADFLY.]To sting the ghosts of Babylonian kings,And the ox-headed Io-- SWINE (WITHIN):Ugh, ugh, ugh!Hail! Iona the divine,We will be no longer Swine,But Bulls with horns and dewlaps. RAT:For,You know, my lord, the Minotaur-- PURGANAX (FIERCELY):Be silent! get to hell! or I will callThe cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon,This is a pretty business. [EXIT THE RAT.] MAMMON:I will goAnd spell some scheme to make it ugly then.-- [EXIT.] [ENTER SWELLFOOT.] SWELLFOOT:She is returned! Taurina is in Thebes,When Swellfoot wishes that she were in hell!Oh, Hymen, clothed in yellow jealousy,And waving o'er the couch of wedded kingsThe torch of Discord with its fiery hair;This is thy work, thou patron saint of queens!Swellfoot is wived! though parted by the sea,The very name of wife had conjugal rights;Her cursed image ate, drank, slept with me,And in the arms of Adiposa oft 290Her memory has received a husband's--[A LOUD TUMULT, AND CRIES OF 'IONA FOR EVER --NO SWELLFOOT!']Hark!How the Swine cry Iona Taurina;I suffer the real presence; Purganax,Off with her head! PURGANAX:But I must first impanelA jury of the Pigs. SWELLFOOT:Pack them then. PURGANAX:Or fattening some few in two separate sties.And giving them clean straw, tying some bitsOf ribbon round their legs--giving their SowsSome tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,And their young Boars white and red rags, and tailsOf cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowersBetween the ears of the old ones; and whenThey are persuaded, that by the inherent virtueOf these things, they are all imperial Pigs,Good Lord! they'd rip each other's bellies up,Not to say, help us in destroying her. SWELLFOOT:This plan might be tried too;--where's General Laoctonos?[ENTER LAOCTONOS AND DAKRY.]It is my royal pleasureThat you, Lord General, bring the head and body,If separate it would please me better, hitherOf Queen Iona. LAOCTONOS:That pleasure I well knew,And made a charge with those battalions bold,Called, from their dress and grin, the royal apes,Upon the Swine, who in a hollow squareEnclosed her, and received the first attackLike so many rhinoceroses, and thenRetreating in good order, with bare tusksAnd wrinkled snouts presented to the foe,Bore her in triumph to the public sty.What is still worse, some Sows upon the groundHave given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin,And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry,'Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!' PURGANAX:Hark! THE SWINE (WITHOUT):Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot! DAKRY:IWent to the garret of the swineherd's tower,Which overlooks the sty, and made a longHarangue (all words) to the assembled Swine,Of delicacy mercy, judgement, law,Morals, and precedents, and purity,Adultery, destitution, and divorce,Piety, faith, and state necessity,And how I loved the Queen!--and then I weptWith the pathos of my own eloquence,And every tear turned to a mill-stone, whichBrained many a gaping Pig, and there was madeA slough of blood and brains upon the place,Greased with the pounded bacon; round and roundThe mill-stones rolled, ploughing the pavement up,And hurling Sucking-Pigs into the air,With dust and stones.-- [ENTER MAMMON.] MAMMON:I wonder that gray wizardsLike you should be so beardless in their schemes;It had been but a point of policyTo keep Iona and the Swine apart.Divide and rule! but ye have made a junctionBetween two parties who will govern youBut for my art.--Behold this BAG! it isThe poison BAG of that Green Spider huge,On which our spies skulked in ovation throughThe streets of Thebes, when they were paved with dead:A bane so much the deadlier fills it nowAs calumny is worse than death,--for hereThe Gadfly's venom, fifty times distilled,Is mingled with the vomit of the Leech,In due proportion, and black ratsbane, whichThat very Rat, who, like the Pontic tyrant,Nurtures himself on poison, dare not touch;--All is sealed up with the broad seal of Fraud,Who is the Devil's Lord High Chancellor,And over it the Primate of all HellMurmured this pious baptism:--'Be thou calledThe GREEN BAG; and this power and grace be thine:That thy contents, on whomsoever poured,Turn innocence to guilt, and gentlest looksTo savage, foul, and fierce deformity.Let all baptized by thy infernal dewBe called adulterer, drunkard, liar, wretch!No name left out which orthodoxy loves,Court Journal or legitimate Review!--Be they called tyrant, beast, fool, glutton, loverOf other wives and husbands than their own--The heaviest sin on this side of the Alps!Wither they to a ghastly caricatureOf what was human!--let not man or beastBehold their face with unaverted eyes!Or hear their names with ears that tingle notWith blood of indignation, rage, and shame!'--This is a perilous liquor;--good my Lords.--[SWELLFOOT APPROACHES TO TOUCH THE GREEN BAG.]Beware! for God's sake, beware!-if you should breakThe seal, and touch the fatal liquor-- PURGANAX:There,Give it to me. I have been used to handleAll sorts of poisons. His dread MajestyOnly desires to see the colour of it. MAMMON:Now, with a little common sense, my Lords,Only undoing all that has been done(Yet so as it may seem we but confirm it),Our victory is assured. We must enticeHer Majesty from the sty, and make the PigsBelieve that the contents of the GREEN BAGAre the true test of guilt or innocence.And that, if she be guilty, 'twill transform herTo manifest deformity like guilt.If innocent, she will become transfiguredInto an angel, such as they say she is;And they will see her flying through the air,So bright that she will dim the noonday sun;Showering down blessings in the shape of comfits.This, trust a priest, is just the sort of thingSwine will believe. I'll wager you will see themClimbing upon the thatch of their low sties,With pieces of smoked glass, to watch her sailAmong the clouds, and some will hold the flapsOf one another's ears between their teeth,To catch the coming hail of comfits in.You, Purganax, who have the gift o' the gab,Make them a solemn speech to this effect:I go to put in readiness the feastKept to the honour of our goddess Famine,Where, for more glory, let the ceremonyTake place of the uglification of the Queen. DAKRY (TO SWELLFOOT):I, as the keeper of your sacred conscience,Humbly remind your Majesty that the careOf your high office, as Man-millinerTo red Bellona, should not be deferred. PURGANAX:All part, in happier plight to meet again. [EXEUNT.] END OF THE ACT 1. ACT 2. SCENE 1.2:THE PUBLIC STY.THE B0ARS IN FULL ASSEMBLY.ENTER PUEGANAX. PURGANAX:Grant me your patience, Gentlemen and Boars,Ye, by whose patience under public burthensThe glorious constitution of these stiesSubsists, and shall subsist. The Lean-Pig ratesGrow with the growing populace of Swine,The taxes, that true source of Piggishness(How can I find a more appropriate termTo include religion, morals, peace, and plenty,And all that fit Boeotia as a nationTo teach the other nations how to live?),Increase with Piggishness itself; and stillDoes the revenue, that great spring of allThe patronage, and pensions, and by-payments,Which free-born Pigs regard with jealous eyes,Diminish, till at length, by glorious steps,All the land's produce will be merged in taxes,And the revenue will amount to--nothing!The failure of a foreign market forSausages, bristles, and blood-puddings,And such home manufactures, is but partial;And, that the population of the Pigs,Instead of hog-wash, has been fed on strawAnd water, is a fact which is--you know--That is--it is a state-necessity--Temporary, of course. Those impious Pigs,Who, by frequent squeaks, have dared impugnThe settled Swellfoot system, or to makeIrreverent mockery of the genuflexionsInculcated by the arch-priest, have been whippedInto a loyal and an orthodox whine.Things being in this happy state, the QueenIona-- A LOUD CRY FROM THE PIGS:She is innocent! most innocent! PURGANAX:That is the very thing that I was saying,Gentlemen Swine; the Queen Iona beingMost innocent, no doubt, returns to Thebes,And the lean Sows and Bears collect about her,Wishing to make her think that WE believe(I mean those more substantial Pigs, who swillRich hog-wash, while the others mouth damp straw)That she is guilty; thus, the Lean-Pig factionSeeks to obtain that hog-wash, which has beenYour immemorial right, and which I willMaintain you in to the last drop of-- A BOAR (INTERRUPTING HIM):WhatDoes any one accuse her of? PURGANAX:Why, no oneMakes ANY positive accusation;--butThere were hints dropped, and so the privy wizardsConceived that it became them to adviseHis Majesty to investigate their truth;--Not for his own sake; he could be contentTo let his wife play any pranks she pleased,If, by that sufferance, HE could please the Pigs;But then he fears the morals of the Swine,The Sows especially, and what effectIt might produce upon the purity andReligion of the rising generationOf Sucking-Pigs, if it could be suspectedThat Queen Iona-- [A PAUSE.] FIRST BOAR:Well, go on; we longTo hear what she can possibly have done. PURGANAX:Why, it is hinted, that a certain Bull--Thus much is KNOWN:--the milk-white Bulls that feedBeside Clitumnus and the crystal lakesOf the Cisalpine mountains, in fresh dewsOf lotus-grass and blossoming asphodelSleeking their silken hair, and with sweet breathLoading the morning winds until they faintWith living fragrance, are so beautiful!--Well, _I_ say nothing;--but Europa rodeOn such a one from Asia into Crete,And the enamoured sea grew calm beneathHis gliding beauty. And Pasiphae,Iona's grandmother,--but SHE is innocent!And that both you and I, and all assert. FIRST BOAR:Most innocent! PURGANAX:Behold this BAG; a bag-- SECOND BOAR:Oh! no GREEN BAGS!! Jealousy's eyes are green,Scorpions are green, and water-snakes, and efts,And verdigris, and-- PURGANAX:Honourable Swine,In Piggish souls can prepossessions reign?Allow me to remind you, grass is green--All flesh is grass;--no bacon but is flesh--Ye are but bacon. This divining BAG(Which is not green, but only bacon colour)Is filled with liquor, which if sprinkled o'erA woman guilty of--we all know what--Makes her so hideous, till she finds one blindShe never can commit the like again.If innocent, she will turn into an angel,And rain down blessings in the shape of comfitsAs she flies up to heaven. Now, my proposalIs to convert her sacred MajestyInto an angel (as I am sure we shall do),By pouring on her head this mystic water.[SHOWING THE BAG.]I know that she is innocent; I wishOnly to prove her so to all the world. FIRST BOAR:Excellent, just, and noble Purganax. SECOND BOAR:How glorious it will be to see her MajestyFlying above our heads, her petticoatsStreaming like--like--like-- THIRD BOAR:Anything. PURGANAX:Oh no!But like a standard of an admiral's ship,Or like the banner of a conquering host,Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day,Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain;Or like a meteor, or a war-steed's mane,Or waterfall from a dizzy precipiceScattered upon the wind. FIRST BOAR:Or a cow's tail. SECOND BOAR:Or ANYTHING, as the learned Boar observed. PURGANAX:Gentlemen Boars, I move a resolution,That her most sacred Majesty should beInvited to attend the feast of Famine,And to receive upon her chaste white bodyDews of Apotheosis from this BAG. [A GREAT CONFUSION IS HEARD OF THE PIGS OUT OF DOORS, WHICHCOMMUNICATES ITSELF TO THOSE WITHIN. DURING THE FIRST STROPHE, THEDOORS OF THE STY ARE STAVED IN, AND A NUMBER OF EXCEEDINGLY LEAN PIGSAND SOWS AND BOARS RUSH IN.] SEMICHORUS 1:No! Yes! SEMICHORUS 2:Yes! No! SEMICHORUS 1:A law! SEMICHORUS 2:A flaw! SEMICHORUS 1:Porkers, we shall lose our wash,Or must share it with the Lean-Pigs! FIRST BOAR:Order! order! be not rash!Was there ever such a scene, Pigs! AN OLD SOW (RUSHING IN):I never saw so fine a dashSince I first began to wean Pigs. SECOND BOAR (SOLEMNLY):The Queen will be an angel time enough.I vote, in form of an amendment, thatPurganax rub a little of that stuffUpon his face. PURGANAX [HIS HEART IS SEEN TO BEAT THROUGH HIS WAISTCOAT]:Gods! What would ye be at? SEMICHORUS 1:Purganax has plainly shown aCloven foot and jackdaw feather. SEMICHORUS 2:I vote Swellfoot and IonaTry the magic test together;Whenever royal spouses bicker,Both should try the magic liquor. AN OLD BOAR [ASIDE]:A miserable state is that of Pigs,For if their drivers would tear caps and wigs,The Swine must bite each other's ear therefore. AN OLD SOW [ASIDE]:A wretched lot Jove has assigned to Swine,Squabbling makes Pig-herds hungry, and they dineOn bacon, and whip Sucking-Pigs the more. CHORUS:Hog-wash has been ta'en away:If the Bull-Queen is divested,We shall be in every wayHunted, stripped, exposed, molested;Let us do whate'er we may,That she shall not be arrested.QUEEN, we entrench you with walls of brawn,And palisades of tusks, sharp as a bayonet:Place your most sacred person here. We pawnOur lives that none a finger dare to lay on it.Those who wrong you, wrong us;Those who hate you, hate us;Those who sting you, sting us;Those who bait you, bait us;The ORACLE is now about to beFulfilled by circumvolving destiny;Which says: 'Thebes, choose REFORM or CIVIL WAR,When through your streets, instead of hare with dogs,A CONSORT QUEEN shall hunt a KING with Hogs,Riding upon the IONIAN MINOTAUR.' [ENTER IONA TAURINA.] IONA TAURINA (COMING FORWARD):Gentlemen Swine, and gentle Lady-Pigs,The tender heart of every Boar acquitsTheir QUEEN, of any act incongruousWith native Piggishness, and she, reposingWith confidence upon the grunting nation,Has thrown herself, her cause, her life, her all,Her innocence, into their Hoggish arms;Nor has the expectation been deceivedOf finding shelter there. Yet know, great Boars,(For such whoever lives among you finds you,And so do I), the innocent are proud!I have accepted your protection onlyIn compliment of your kind love and care,Not for necessity. The innocentAre safest there where trials and dangers wait;Innocent Queens o'er white-hot ploughshares treadUnsinged, and ladies, Erin's laureate sings it,Decked with rare gems, and beauty rarer still,Walked from Killarney to the Giant's Causeway,Through rebels, smugglers, troops of yeomanry,White-boys and Orange-boys, and constables,Tithe-proctors, and excise people, uninjured!Thus I!--Lord Purganax, I do commit myselfInto your custody, and am preparedTo stand the test, whatever it may be! PURGANAX:This magnanimity in your sacred MajestyMust please the Pigs. You cannot fail of beingA heavenly angel. Smoke your bits of glass,Ye loyal Swine, or her transfigurationWill blind your wondering eyes. AN OLD BOAR [ASIDE]:Take care, my Lord,They do not smoke you first. PURGANAX:At the approaching feastOf Famine, let the expiation be. SWINE:Content! content! IONA TAURINA [ASIDE]:I, most content of all,Know that my foes even thus prepare their fall! [EXEUNT OMNES.] SCENE 2.2:THE INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE OF FAMINE.THE STATUE OF THE GODDESS, A SKELETON CLOTHED IN PARTI-COLOURED RAGS,SEATED UPON A HEAP OF SKULLS AND LOAVES INTERMINGLED.A NUMBER OF EXCEEDINGLY FAT PRIESTS IN BLACK GARMENTS ARRAYED ON EACHSIDE, WITH MARROW-BONES AND CLEAVERS IN THEIR HANDS.[SOLOMON, THE COURT PORKMAN.]A FLOURISH OF TRUMPETS. ENTER MAMMON AS ARCH-PRIEST, SWELLFOOT, DAKRY, PURGANAX, LAOCTONOS,FOLLOWED BY IONA TAURINA GUARDED.ON THE OTHER SIDE ENTER THE SWINE. CHORUS OF PRIESTS, ACCOMPANIED BY THE COURT PORKMAN ON MARROW-BONESAND CLEAVERS:GODDESS bare, and gaunt, and pale,Empress of the world, all hail!What though Cretans old called theeCity-crested Cybele?We call thee FAMINE!Goddess of fasts and feasts, starving and cramming!Through thee, for emperors, kings, and priests and lords,Who rule by viziers, sceptres, bank-notes, words,The earth pours forth its plenteous fruits,Corn, wool, linen, flesh, and roots--Those who consume these fruits through thee grow fat,Those who produce these fruits through thee grow lean,Whatever change takes place, oh, stick to that!And let things be as they have ever been;At least while we remain thy priests,And proclaim thy fasts and feasts.Through thee the sacred SWELLF00T dynastyIs based upon a rock amid that seaWhose waves are Swine--so let it ever be! [SWELLFOOT, ETC., SEAT THEMSELVES AT A TABLE MAGNIFICENTLY COVERED ATTHE UPPER END OF THE TEMPLE.ATTENDANTS PASS OVER THE STAGE WITH HOG-WASH IN PAILS.A NUMBER OF PIGS, EXCEEDINGLY LEAN, FOLLOW THEM LICKING UP THE WASH.] MAMMON:I fear your sacred Majesty has lostThe appetite which you were used to have.Allow me now to recommend this dish--A simple kickshaw by your Persian cook,Such as is served at the great King's second table.The price and pains which its ingredients costMight have maintained some dozen familiesA winter or two--not more--so plain a dishCould scarcely disagree.-- SWELLFOOT:After the trial,And these fastidious Pigs are gone, perhapsI may recover my lost appetite,--I feel the gout flying about my stomach--Give me a glass of Maraschino punch. PURGANAX (FILLING HIS GLASS, AND STANDING UP):The glorious Constitution of the Pigs! ALL:A toast! a toast! stand up, and three times three! DAKRY:No heel-taps--darken daylights! -- LAOCTONOS:Claret, somehow,Puts me in mind of blood, and blood of claret! SWELLFOOT:Laoctonos is fishing for a compliment,But 'tis his due. Yes, you have drunk more wine,And shed more blood, than any man in Thebes.[TO PURGANAX.]For God's sake stop the grunting of those Pigs! PURGANAX:We dare not, Sire, 'tis Famine's privilege. CHORUS OF SWINE:Hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!Thy throne is on blood, and thy robe is of rags;Thou devil which livest on damning;Saint of new churches, and cant, and GREEN BAGS,Till in pity and terror thou risest,Confounding the schemes of the wisest;When thou liftest thy skeleton form,When the loaves and the skulls roll about,We will greet thee-the voice of a stormWould be lost in our terrible shout! Then hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!Hail to thee, Empress of Earth!When thou risest, dividing possessions;When thou risest, uprooting oppressions,In the pride of thy ghastly mirth;Over palaces, temples, and graves,We will rush as thy minister-slaves,Trampling behind in thy train,Till all be made level again! MAMMON:I hear a crackling of the giant bonesOf the dread image, and in the black pitsWhich once were eyes, I see two livid flames.These prodigies are oracular, and showThe presence of the unseen Deity.Mighty events are hastening to their doom! SWELLFOOT:I only hear the lean and mutinous SwineGrunting about the temple. DAKRY:In a crisisOf such exceeding delicacy, I thinkWe ought to put her Majesty, the QUEEN,Upon her trial without delay. MAMMON:THE BAGIs here. PURGANAX:I have rehearsed the entire sceneWith an ox-bladder and some ditchwater,On Lady P--; it cannot fail.[TAKING UP THE BAG.]Your Majesty[TO SWELLFOOT.]In such a filthy business had betterStand on one side, lest it should sprinkle you.A spot or two on me would do no harm,Nay, it might hide the blood, which the sad GeniusOf the Green Isle has fixed, as by a spell,Upon my brow--which would stain all its seas,But which those seas could never wash away! IONA TAURINA:My Lord, I am ready--nay, I am impatientTo undergo the test.[A GRACEFUL FIGURE IN A SEMI-TRANSPARENT VEIL PASSES UNNOTICED THROUGHTHE TEMPLE; THE WORD "LIBERTY" IS SEEN THROUGH THE VEIL, AS IF IT WEREWRITTEN IN FIRE UPON ITS FOREHEAD. ITS WORDS ARE ALMOST DROWNED IN THEFURIOUS GRUNTING OF THE PIGS, AND THE BUSINESS OF THE TRIAL. SHEKNEELS ON THE STEPS OF THE ALTAR, AND SPEAKS IN TONES AT FIRST FAINTAND LOW, BUT WHICH EVER BECOME LOUDER AND LOUDER.]Mighty Empress! Death's white wife!Ghastly mother-in-law of Life!By the God who made thee such,By the magic of thy touch,By the starving and the crammingOf fasts and feasts! by thy dread self, O Famine!I charge thee! when thou wake the multitude,Thou lead them not upon the paths of blood.The earth did never mean her foisonFor those who crown life's cup with poisonOf fanatic rage and meaningless revenge--But for those radiant spirits, who are stillThe standard-bearers in the van of Change.Be they th' appointed stewards, to fillThe lap of Pain, and Toil, and Age!--Remit, O Queen! thy accustomed rage!Be what thou art not! In voice faint and lowFREEDOM calls "Famine",--her eternal foe,To brief alliance, hollow truce.--Rise now! [WHILST THE VEILED FIGURE HAS BEEN CHANTING THIS STROPHE, MAMMON,DAKRY, LAOCTONOS, AND SWELLFOOT, HAVE SURROUNDED IONA TAURINA, WHO,WITH HER HANDS FOLDED ON HER BREAST, AND HER EYES LIFTED TO HEAVEN,STANDS, AS WITH SAINT-LIKE RESIGNATION, TO WAIT THE ISSUE OF THEBUSINESS, IN PERFECT CONFIDENCE OF HER INNOCENCE.] [PURGANAX, AFTER UNSEALING THE GREEN BAG, IS GRAVELY ABOUT TO POUR THELIQUOR UPON HER HEAD, WHEN SUDDENLY THE WHOLE EXPRESSION OF HER FIGUREAND COUNTENANCE CHANGES; SHE SNATCHES IT FROM HIS HAND WITH A LOUDLAUGH OF TRIUMPH, AND EMPTIES IT OVER SWELLFOOT AND HIS WHOLE COURT,WHO ARE INSTANTLY CHANGED INTO A NUMBER OF FILTHY AND UGLY ANIMALS,AND RUSH OUT OF THE TEMPLE. THE IMAGE OF FAMINE THEN ARISES WITH ATREMENDOUS SOUND, THE PIGS BEGIN SCRAMBLING FOR THE LOAVES, AND ARETRJPPED UP BY THE SKULLS; ALL THOSE WHO EAT THE LOAVES ARE TURNED INTOBULLS, AND ARRANGE THEMSELVES QUIETLY BEHIND THE ALTAR. THE IMAGE OFFAMINE SINKS THROUGH A CHASM IN THE EARTH, AND A MINOTAUR RISES.] MINOTAUR:I am the Ionian Minotaur, the mightiestOf all Europa's taurine progeny--I am the old traditional Man-Bull;And from my ancestors having been Ionian,I am called Ion, which, by interpretation,Is JOHN; in plain Theban, that is to say,My name's JOHN BULL; I am a famous hunter,And can leaf any gate in all Boeotia,Even the palings of the royal park,Or double ditch about the new enclosures;And if your Majesty will deign to mount me,At least till you have hunted down your game,I will not throw you. IONA TAURINA [DURING THIS SPEECH SHE HAS BEEN PUTTING ON BOOTS ANDSPURS, AND A HUNTING-CAP, BUCKISHLY COCKED ON ONE SIDE, AND TUCKING UPHER HAIR, SHE LEAPS NIMBLY ON HIS BACK]:Hoa! hoa! tallyho! tallyho! ho! ho!Come, let us hunt these ugly badgers down,These stinking foxes, these devouring otters,These hares, these wolves, these anything but men.Hey, for a whipper-in! my loyal PigsNow let your noses be as keen as beagles',Your steps as swift as greyhounds', and your criesMore dulcet and symphonious than the bellsOf village-towers, on sunshine holiday;Wake all the dewy woods with jangling music.Give them no law (are they not beasts of blood?)But such as they gave you. Tallyho! ho!Through forest, furze, and bog, and den, and desert,Pursue the ugly beasts! tallyho! ho! FULL CHORUS OF I0NA AND THE SWINE:Tallyho! tallyho!Through rain, hail, and snow,Through brake, gorse, and briar,Through fen, flood, and mire,We go! we go! Tallyho! tallyho!Through pond, ditch, and slough,Wind them, and find them,Like the Devil behind them,Tallyho! tallyho! [EXEUNT, IN FULL CRY;IONA DRIVING ON THE SWINE, WITH THE EMPTY GEEEN BAG.] THE END.