DRAMATIS PERSONE. TYRANT SWELLFOOT, King of Thebes. MAMMON, Arch-Priest of Famine. PYRGANAX, DAKRY, LAOCTONOS, The GADFLY. The LEECH. The MINOTAUR. MOSES, the Sow-gelder. CHORUS of the Swinish Multitude. SCENE-Thebes. ACT I. SCENE I.-A magnificent Temple, built of thigh-bones and death'sheads, and tiled with scalps. Over the altar the statue of Famine, veiled; a number of Boars, Sows, and Sucking Pigs, crowned with thistle, shamrock, and oak, sitting on the steps, and clinging round the altar of the Temple. Enter SWELLFOOT, in his royal robes, without perceiving the Pigs. Swellfoot. THOU supreme Goddess, by whose power divine These graceful limbs are clothed in proud array [He contemplates himself with satisfaction. Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunch The Swine. Eigh! eigh! eigh! eigh! Who, crowned with leaves devoted to the Furies, Cling round this sacred shrine? Swine. Aigh! aigh! aigh! Swellfoot. What! ye that are The very beasts that, offered at her altar With blood and groans, salt-cake and fat and inwards, Ever propitiate her reluctant will When taxes are withheld? Swine. Ugh! ugh! ugh! Swellfoot. What! ye who grub With filthy snouts my red potatoes up In Allen's rushy Bog? who eat the oats THE SWINE.-SEMICHORUS I. SEMICHORUS II. If 'twere your kingly will Us wretched Swine to kill, What should we yield to thee? Swellfoot. Why, skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar. I have heard your Laureate sing Under your mighty ancestors, we Pigs Were blessed as nightingales on myrtle sprigs, Or grasshoppers that live on noonday dew, But now our sties are fallen in, we catch The murrain and the mange, the scab and itch; 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. Happier Swine were they than we, I wish that Pity would drive out the devils To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons And sties well thatched; besides, it is the law! Guard. Enter a GUARD. Your sacred Majesty? Swellfoot. Call in the Jews, Solomon the court porkman, Moses the sow-gelder, and Zephaniah the 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. Nor prostitution, nor our own example, This was the art which the Arch-priest of Famine Cut close and deep, good Moses. Moses. Keep the Boars quiet, else— Let your Majesty Zephaniah, cut That fat Hog's throat; the brute seems overfed. Zephaniah. Your sacred Majesty, he has the dropsy; He has not half an inch of wholesome fat Upon his carious ribs. Swellfoot. 'Tis all the same ; He'll serve instead of riot-money when Our murmuring troops bivouaque in Thebes streets; Of butchering, will make them relish carrion. Now, Solomon, I'll sell you in a lump The whole kit of them. Solomon. I could not give— Why, your Majesty, Kill them out of the way; [Exeunt, driving in the Swine. That shall be price enough. And let me hear Their everlasting grunts and whines no more! Enter MAMMON, the Arch-Priest; and PYRGANAX, Chief of the Council of Wizards. Pyrganax. The future looks as black as death; a cloud, The troops grow mutinous-the revenue fails- 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, To show his bilious face, go purge himself, In emulation of her vestal whiteness. Pyrganax. 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. Pyrganax. 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 upon the Ionian Minotaur." Mammon. Now, if the oracle had ne'er foretold Or not; and so it must now that it has ; Pyrganax. You Arch-priests Believe in nothing; if you were to dream You would not buy the ticket. Mammon. Yet our tickets Are 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, Do the same actions that the virtuous do, And these dull Swine of Thebes boast their descent And everything relating to a bull Is popular and respectable in Thebes : Their arms are seven bulls in a field gules; They think their strength consists in eating beef. If Queen Iona Pyrganax. I have taken good care That shall not be. I struck the crust o' the earth i With this enchanted rod, and hell lay bare: I chose a Leech, a Gadfly, and a Rat. Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast Has a loud trumpet like the scarabee; And this foul beast He sees fair things in many hideous shapes, This Gadfly should drive Iona hither? Pyrganax. Gods! what an if! But there is my grey Rat; So thin with want he can crawl in and out Of any narrow chink and filthy hole; And he shall creep into her dressing-room, And Mammon. My dear friend, where are your wits? as if She does not always toast a piece of cheese, And bait the trap? and rats, when lean enough To crawl through such chinks Pyrganax. But my Leech-a leech Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings, His little body like a red balloon, As full of blood as that of hydrogen, Sucked from men's hearts; insatiably he sucks And clings and pulls-a horseleech, whose deep maw And who, till full, will cling for ever. Mammon. For Queen Iona might suffice, and less. This |