Oedipus Tyrannus Or Swellfoot The Tyrant. A Tragedy In Two Acts

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.     TYRANT SWELLFOOT, KING OF THEBES.     IONA TAURINA, HIS QUEEN.     MAMMON, ARCH-PRIEST OF FAMINE.     PURGANAX, DAKRY, LAOCTONOS - WIZARDS, MINISTERS OF SWELLFOOT.     THE GADFLY.     THE LEECH.     THE RAT.     MOSES, THE SOW-GELDER.     SOLOMON, THE PORKMAN.     ZEPHANIAH, PIG-BUTCHER.     THE MINOTAUR.     CHORUS OF THE SWINISH MULTITUDE.     GUARDS, ATTENDANTS, PRIESTS, ETC., ETC.     SCENE. - THEBES.     ACT 1.     SCENE 1.1. - A MAGNIFICENT TEMPLE, BUILT OF THIGH-BONES AND     DEATH'S-HEADS, 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     Swells like a sail before a favouring breeze,     And these most sacred nether promontories     Lie satisfied with layers of fat; and these     Boeotian 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 army     Of those fat martyrs to the persecution     Of stifling turtle-soup, and brandy-devils,     Offer their secret vows! Thou plenteous Ceres     Of their Eleusis, hail!     NOTE:     (_8 See Universal History for an account of the number of people who     died, and the immense consumption of garlic by the wretched Egyptians,     who made a sepulchre for the name as well as the bodies of their     tyrants. - [SHELLEY'S NOTE.])     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 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 Allan's rushy bog? Who eat the oats     Up, from my cavalry in the Hebrides?     Who swill the hog-wash soup my cooks digest     From 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 name     Of Pig remains to me.     SEMICHORUS 2:     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.     CHORUS OF SWINE:     I have heard your Laureate sing,     That pity was a royal thing;     Under your mighty ancestors, we Pigs     Were 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 catch     The 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, none     Has 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 bristles     To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons     With 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!     NOTE:     _59 thy edition 1820; your edition 1839.     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 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.     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 Famine     Hinted at in his charge to the Theban clergy -     Cut close and deep, good Moses.     MOSES:     Let your Majesty     Keep the Boars quiet, else -     SWELLFOOT:     Zephaniah, cut     That 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 fat     Upon his carious ribs -     SWELLFOOT:     'Tis all the same,     He'll serve instead of riot money, when     Our murmuring troops bivouac in Thebes' streets     And January winds, after a day     Of butchering, will make them relish carrion.     Now, Solomon, I'll sell you in a lump     The 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 hear     Their 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 level     Of 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 ashamed     To 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 foretold     This sad alternative, it must arrive,     Or not, and so it must now that it has;     And whether I was urged by grace divine     Or 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 much     Of oracles as I do -     PURGANAX:     You arch-priests     Believe in nothing; if you were to dream     Of a particular number in the Lottery,     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,     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 descent     From the free Minotaur. You know they still     Call themselves Bulls, though thus degenerate,     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, -     Now there were danger in the precedent     If Queen Iona -     NOTES:     _114 the edition 1820; thy cj. Forman;          cf. Motto below Title, and II. i, 153-6. ticket? edition 1820;          ticket! edition 1839.     _135 their own Mrs. Shelley, later editions;          their editions 1820 and 1839.     PURGANAX:     I have taken good care     That shall not be. I struck the crust o' the earth     With this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare!     And from a cavern full of ugly shapes     I chose a LEECH, a GADFLY, and a RAT.     The Gadfly was the same which Juno sent     To agitate Io, and which Ezekiel mentions     That the Lord whistled for out of the mountains     Of utmost Aethiopia, to torment     Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast     Has a loud trumpet like the scarabee,     His crooked tail is barbed with many stings,     Each able to make a thousand wounds, and each     Immedicable; from his convex eyes     He 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 beast     Has tracked Iona from the Theban limits,     From isle to isle, from city unto city,     Urging her flight from the far Chersonese     To 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.     NOTES:     (_153 (Io) The Promethetes Bound of Aeschylus. - [SHELLEY'S NOTE.])     (_153 (Ezekiel) And the Lord whistled for the gadfly out of Aethiopia,     and for the bee of Egypt, etc. - EZEKIEL. - [SHELLEY'S NOTE.])     MAMMON:     But if     This 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 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 -     PURGANAX:     But my LEECH - a leech     Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings,     Capaciously expatiative, which make     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 horse-leech, whose deep maw     The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,     And who, till full, will cling for ever.     MAMMON:     This     For Queen Jona would suffice, and less;     But 'tis the Swinish multitude I fear,     And in that fear I have -     PURGANAX:     Done what?     MAMMON:     Disinherited     My eldest son Chrysaor, because he     Attended public meetings, and would always     Stand 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]     NOTE:     (_204 'If one should marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never     saw one so prone. - CYMBELINE. - [SHELLEY'S NOTE.]     PURGANAX:     A good match!     MAMMON:     A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroom     Is 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 learning     How to hold radicals. They are well taught too,     For every gibbet says its catechism     And reads a select chapter in the Bible     Before 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 scalps     Of the mountains, I come!     Hum! hum! hum!     From Morocco and Fez, and the high palaces     Of 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 windows     Were open to me:     I saw all that sin does,     Which lamps hardly see     That 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 her     With 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 her     From place to place, till at last I have dumbed her,     Hum! hum! hum!     NOTE:     _260 Edd. 1820, 1839 have no stage direction after this line.     [ENTER THE LEECH AND THE RAT.]     LEECH:     I will suck     Blood or muck!     The disease of the state is a plethory,     Who so fit to reduce it as I?     RAT:     I'll slily seize and     Let 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 call     The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon,     This is a pretty business.     [EXIT THE RAT.]     MAMMON:     I will go     And 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 kings     The 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 290     Her 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 impanel     A jury of the Pigs.     SWELLFOOT:     Pack them then.     PURGANAX:     Or fattening some few in two separate sties.     And giving them clean straw, tying some bits     Of ribbon round their legs - giving their Sows     Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,     And their young Boars white and red rags, and tails     Of cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowers     Between the ears of the old ones; and when     They are persuaded, that by the inherent virtue     Of 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 pleasure     That you, Lord General, bring the head and body,     If separate it would please me better, hither     Of 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 square     Enclosed her, and received the first attack     Like so many rhinoceroses, and then     Retreating in good order, with bare tusks     And wrinkled snouts presented to the foe,     Bore her in triumph to the public sty.     What is still worse, some Sows upon the ground     Have 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:     I     Went to the garret of the swineherd's tower,     Which overlooks the sty, and made a long     Harangue (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 wept     With the pathos of my own eloquence,     And every tear turned to a mill-stone, which     Brained many a gaping Pig, and there was made     A slough of blood and brains upon the place,     Greased with the pounded bacon; round and round     The 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 wizards     Like you should be so beardless in their schemes;     It had been but a point of policy     To keep Iona and the Swine apart.     Divide and rule! but ye have made a junction     Between two parties who will govern you     But for my art. - Behold this BAG! it is     The poison BAG of that Green Spider huge,     On which our spies skulked in ovation through     The streets of Thebes, when they were paved with dead:     A bane so much the deadlier fills it now     As calumny is worse than death, - for here     The Gadfly's venom, fifty times distilled,     Is mingled with the vomit of the Leech,     In due proportion, and black ratsbane, which     That 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 Hell     Murmured this pious baptism: - 'Be thou called     The GREEN BAG; and this power and grace be thine:     That thy contents, on whomsoever poured,     Turn innocence to guilt, and gentlest looks     To savage, foul, and fierce deformity.     Let all baptized by thy infernal dew     Be called adulterer, drunkard, liar, wretch!     No name left out which orthodoxy loves,     Court Journal or legitimate Review! -     Be they called tyrant, beast, fool, glutton, lover     Of other wives and husbands than their own -     The heaviest sin on this side of the Alps!     Wither they to a ghastly caricature     Of what was human! - let not man or beast     Behold their face with unaverted eyes!     Or hear their names with ears that tingle not     With 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 break     The seal, and touch the fatal liquor -     NOTE:     _373 or edition 1820; nor edition 1839.     PURGANAX:     There,     Give it to me. I have been used to handle     All sorts of poisons. His dread Majesty     Only 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 entice     Her Majesty from the sty, and make the Pigs     Believe that the contents of the GREEN BAG     Are the true test of guilt or innocence.     And that, if she be guilty, 'twill transform her     To manifest deformity like guilt.     If innocent, she will become transfigured     Into 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 thing     Swine will believe. I'll wager you will see them     Climbing upon the thatch of their low sties,     With pieces of smoked glass, to watch her sail     Among the clouds, and some will hold the flaps     Of 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 feast     Kept to the honour of our goddess Famine,     Where, for more glory, let the ceremony     Take place of the uglification of the Queen.     DAKRY (TO SWELLFOOT):     I, as the keeper of your sacred conscience,     Humbly remind your Majesty that the care     Of your high office, as Man-milliner     To 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 burthens     The glorious constitution of these sties     Subsists, and shall subsist. The Lean-Pig rates     Grow with the growing populace of Swine,     The taxes, that true source of Piggishness     (How can I find a more appropriate term     To include religion, morals, peace, and plenty,     And all that fit Boeotia as a nation     To teach the other nations how to live?),     Increase with Piggishness itself; and still     Does the revenue, that great spring of all     The 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 for     Sausages, 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 straw     And 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 impugn     The settled Swellfoot system, or to make     Irreverent mockery of the genuflexions     Inculcated by the arch-priest, have been whipped     Into a loyal and an orthodox whine.     Things being in this happy state, the Queen     Iona -     NOTE:     _16 land's]lands edition 1820.     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 being     Most 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 swill     Rich hog-wash, while the others mouth damp straw)     That she is guilty; thus, the Lean-Pig faction     Seeks to obtain that hog-wash, which has been     Your immemorial right, and which I will     Maintain you in to the last drop of -     A BOAR (INTERRUPTING HIM):     What     Does any one accuse her of?     PURGANAX:     Why, no one     Makes ANY positive accusation; - but     There were hints dropped, and so the privy wizards     Conceived that it became them to advise     His Majesty to investigate their truth; -     Not for his own sake; he could be content     To 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 effect     It might produce upon the purity and     Religion of the rising generation     Of Sucking-Pigs, if it could be suspected     That Queen Iona -     [A PAUSE.]     FIRST BOAR:     Well, go on; we long     To 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 feed     Beside Clitumnus and the crystal lakes     Of the Cisalpine mountains, in fresh dews     Of lotus-grass and blossoming asphodel     Sleeking their silken hair, and with sweet breath     Loading the morning winds until they faint     With living fragrance, are so beautiful! -     Well, _I_ say nothing; - but Europa rode     On such a one from Asia into Crete,     And the enamoured sea grew calm beneath     His 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'er     A woman guilty of - we all know what -     Makes her so hideous, till she finds one blind     She never can commit the like again.     If innocent, she will turn into an angel,     And rain down blessings in the shape of comfits     As she flies up to heaven. Now, my proposal     Is to convert her sacred Majesty     Into 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 wish     Only 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 Majesty     Flying above our heads, her petticoats     Streaming 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 precipice     Scattered 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 be     Invited to attend the feast of Famine,     And to receive upon her chaste white body     Dews of Apotheosis from this BAG.     [A GREAT CONFUSION IS HEARD OF THE PIGS OUT OF DOORS, WHICH     COMMUNICATES ITSELF TO THOSE WITHIN. DURING THE FIRST STROPHE, THE     DOORS OF THE STY ARE STAVED IN, AND A NUMBER OF EXCEEDINGLY LEAN PIGS     AND 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 dash     Since I first began to wean Pigs.     SECOND BOAR (SOLEMNLY):     The Queen will be an angel time enough.     I vote, in form of an amendment, that     Purganax rub a little of that stuff     Upon his face.     PURGANAX [HIS HEART IS SEEN TO BEAT THROUGH HIS WAISTCOAT]:     Gods! What would ye be at?     SEMICHORUS 1:     Purganax has plainly shown a     Cloven foot and jackdaw feather.     SEMICHORUS 2:     I vote Swellfoot and Iona     Try 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 dine     On 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 way     Hunted, 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 pawn     Our 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 be     Fulfilled 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.'     NOTE:     _154 streets instead edition 1820.     [ENTER IONA TAURINA.]     IONA TAURINA (COMING FORWARD):     Gentlemen Swine, and gentle Lady-Pigs,     The tender heart of every Boar acquits     Their QUEEN, of any act incongruous     With native Piggishness, and she, reposing     With 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 deceived     Of 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 only     In compliment of your kind love and care,     Not for necessity. The innocent     Are safest there where trials and dangers wait;     Innocent Queens o'er white-hot ploughshares tread     Unsinged, 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 myself     Into your custody, and am prepared     To stand the test, whatever it may be!     NOTE:     (_173 'Rich and rare were the gems she wore.' See Moore's "Irish     Melodies". - [SHELLEY'S NOTE.])     PURGANAX:     This magnanimity in your sacred Majesty     Must please the Pigs. You cannot fail of being     A heavenly angel. Smoke your bits of glass,     Ye loyal Swine, or her transfiguration     Will blind your wondering eyes.     AN OLD BOAR [ASIDE]:     Take care, my Lord,     They do not smoke you first.     PURGANAX:     At the approaching feast     Of 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 EACH     SIDE, 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-BONES     AND CLEAVERS:     GODDESS bare, and gaunt, and pale,     Empress of the world, all hail!     What though Cretans old called thee     City-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 dynasty     Is based upon a rock amid that sea     Whose waves are Swine - so let it ever be!     [SWELLFOOT, ETC., SEAT THEMSELVES AT A TABLE MAGNIFICENTLY COVERED AT     THE 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 lost     The 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 cost     Might have maintained some dozen families     A winter or two - not more - so plain a dish     Could scarcely disagree. -     SWELLFOOT:     After the trial,     And these fastidious Pigs are gone, perhaps     I 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 storm     Would 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 bones     Of the dread image, and in the black pits     Which once were eyes, I see two livid flames.     These prodigies are oracular, and show     The presence of the unseen Deity.     Mighty events are hastening to their doom!     SWELLFOOT:     I only hear the lean and mutinous Swine     Grunting about the temple.     DAKRY:     In a crisis     Of such exceeding delicacy, I think     We ought to put her Majesty, the QUEEN,     Upon her trial without delay.     MAMMON:     THE BAG     Is here.     PURGANAX:     I have rehearsed the entire scene     With 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 better     Stand 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 Genius     Of 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 impatient     To undergo the test.     [A GRACEFUL FIGURE IN A SEMI-TRANSPARENT VEIL PASSES UNNOTICED THROUGH     THE TEMPLE; THE WORD "LIBERTY" IS SEEN THROUGH THE VEIL, AS IF IT WERE     WRITTEN IN FIRE UPON ITS FOREHEAD. ITS WORDS ARE ALMOST DROWNED IN THE     FURIOUS GRUNTING OF THE PIGS, AND THE BUSINESS OF THE TRIAL. SHE     KNEELS ON THE STEPS OF THE ALTAR, AND SPEAKS IN TONES AT FIRST FAINT     AND 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 cramming     Of 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 foison     For those who crown life's cup with poison     Of fanatic rage and meaningless revenge -     But for those radiant spirits, who are still     The standard-bearers in the van of Change.     Be they th' appointed stewards, to fill     The lap of Pain, and Toil, and Age! -     Remit, O Queen! thy accustomed rage!     Be what thou art not! In voice faint and low     FREEDOM 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 THE     BUSINESS, IN PERFECT CONFIDENCE OF HER INNOCENCE.]     [PURGANAX, AFTER UNSEALING THE GREEN BAG, IS GRAVELY ABOUT TO POUR THE     LIQUOR UPON HER HEAD, WHEN SUDDENLY THE WHOLE EXPRESSION OF HER FIGURE     AND COUNTENANCE CHANGES; SHE SNATCHES IT FROM HIS HAND WITH A LOUD     LAUGH 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 A     TREMENDOUS SOUND, THE PIGS BEGIN SCRAMBLING FOR THE LOAVES, AND ARE     TRJPPED UP BY THE SKULLS; ALL THOSE WHO EAT THE LOAVES ARE TURNED INTO     BULLS, AND ARRANGE THEMSELVES QUIETLY BEHIND THE ALTAR. THE IMAGE OF     FAMINE SINKS THROUGH A CHASM IN THE EARTH, AND A MINOTAUR RISES.]     MINOTAUR:     I am the Ionian Minotaur, the mightiest     Of 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 AND     SPURS, AND A HUNTING-CAP, BUCKISHLY COCKED ON ONE SIDE, AND TUCKING UP     HER 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 Pigs     Now let your noses be as keen as beagles',     Your steps as swift as greyhounds', and your cries     More dulcet and symphonious than the bells     Of 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.