 | The Sphinx : A "Touch From The Ancients," |  |
Scene V.
—A Landscape. Enter Sphinx, L.Sph.
The Queen and friend are safely under lock,
And I've laid in a tidy winter stock.
Pleasing reflections! I begin to find
The blessings of a thoughtful, frugal mind.
But soft! here comes a pretty girl—somehow,
I don't feel much inclin'd for sport just now.
Stay—a thought strikes me;—yes, a grand, sublime one—
'Tis this: I'll fall in love—ain't it a prime one?
Though, classically speaking, I expect
My doing so won't be at all correct.
But mere historical considerations
Shan't stand between me and my inclinations.
Enter Jocasta, sentimentally, R.
Joc.
Though I'm in Greece, I'm much inclin'd to roam;
Methinks I've wander'd rather far from home.
My harass'd mind refus'd to let me sit
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In vain my frame of Berlin wool I took,
Nor could I crochet do, by hook or crook;
So out I wander'd, 'mongst the fields and dells,
My thoughts meanwhile all wandering somewhere else:
I'd no idea my walk was half so long—
An observation which suggests a song.
SONG.—“On the Margin of fair Zurich's Waters.”
I've been marching about in all quarters—
Variety
Or amusement in hopes I should find;
For just now fair Bœotia's fair daughters'
Society
Doesn't answer the state of my mind.
I'm in love, as you plainly may see;
And the best thing for that's known to be
Fresh amusements, fresh scenes, and fresh air—
Variety!
For 'tis thus all the doctors declare.
Variety—variety is sure to succeed;
Variety—variety is all that I need.
Variety
Or amusement in hopes I should find;
For just now fair Bœotia's fair daughters'
Society
Doesn't answer the state of my mind.
I'm in love, as you plainly may see;
And the best thing for that's known to be
Fresh amusements, fresh scenes, and fresh air—
Variety!
For 'tis thus all the doctors declare.
Variety—variety is sure to succeed;
Variety—variety is all that I need.
But I fear I've walk'd rather too far;
Propriety
Demands that I now should go home;
For by this I have caused poor papa
Anxiety,
As I'm not much accustom'd to roam;
For the gov'nor, no doubt, surely thinks
That I have been pick'd up by the Sphinx;
For this monster, too well it is known,
Notoriety!
Will never leave young girls alone.
Impropriety—notoriety! Oh, dear! I shall die!
With anxiety; so propriety demands I should fly.
Propriety
Demands that I now should go home;
For by this I have caused poor papa
Anxiety,
As I'm not much accustom'd to roam;
For the gov'nor, no doubt, surely thinks
That I have been pick'd up by the Sphinx;
For this monster, too well it is known,
Notoriety!
Will never leave young girls alone.
Impropriety—notoriety! Oh, dear! I shall die!
With anxiety; so propriety demands I should fly.
[During her song the Sphinx listens with great admiration.
Sph.
Whene'er I say I'll do a thing, it's done.
I am in love. Young woman—
[Jocasta screams, and is running away. Sphinx stops her.
Stop, don't run—
Sweet Syren, sing once more that strain so clear—
Yes,—let that air again delight this ear.
Joc.
Tho' nothing desperate I mean to do,
A frightful object I have now in view.
What are you—speak?
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I bear a name of dread,
That's used to frighten naughty boys to bed;
I'm he from whom the stoutest Theban shrinks,
He—the devouring element—the Sphinx.
Joc.
Then all is lost.
Sph.
Not so—I'm going to make
A handsome offer, which I'm sure you'll take.
D'ye feel inclin'd me for a spouse to try?
Many have husbands greater brutes than I.
Spite of my wings and tails, whose looks may fright ye,
I'm not a scaly sort of chap, nor flighty.
Naught shall you fear, with my protecting clause,
So rush into my arms—or rather paws—
Joc.
Paws off!
Sph.
Pause, ere with such contempt you treat me,—
Joc.
Monster! you've roasted me enough—so eat me.
Prolong not my hard fate with such vile flummery,
But with “one swallow” please to make it summer-y.
Sph.
Rash girl! then have your wish, the twig to hop
I'll not propose, but I'll the question pop;
Why is?—no, when is?—
Joc.
Help! help! Ah, they're here.
Sph.
Are they? then I'll retire, for I fear
That what with blighted love and indigestion,
I couldn't now propose a single question.
[Jocasta screams and faints, Sphinx drags her off, L.
Enter Œdipus, Adelpates supported between Ignoramos and Scylleon, Peasants, &c., R.
Œd.
What means that scream—that cry of wild distress?
Enter Mercury quickly, L.
Mer.
The Sphinx has bolted with the young princess.
Œd.
Unsay your words.
Mer.
Can't; 'pon my life he's caught her.
Œd.
My love, my bride—
Ade.
My daughter—oh, my daughter!
Œd.
Forward! Attack this monster on the spot.
Quick march!—
Ade.
Indeed, young man, I'd rather not.
It's hard enough to lose one's daughter; yet I'd rather
The Sphinx eat her than eat that daughter's father.
Œd.
Nay, haste; we'll yet avert this fell disaster;
Forward! our watchword—Freedom and Jocasta.
Music.—Œdipus and Followers march out. Adelpates hanging back, but dragged on by Ignoramos, and Scylleon.
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Well, now, this scene has bothered me most sadly;
In fact, the authors treat me very badly.
As Chorus, by all means, I should have heard of it,
But till this moment I knew not a word of it;
Nor can I find the story any where.
It isn't hinted at by Lemprière.
The Sphinx in love! I s'pose it's all correct,
Though really it's what I did not expect.
And yet no doubt the Sphinx is like the rest of us—
A pretty woman will upset the best of us.
But stay, with this affair I'm so perplexed,
I've not the faintest notion what comes next.
For information, therefore, don't ask me,
But I suppose you'll see what you shall see.
But I'm annoyed at such atrocious dealings—
Here, music!—just to calm my ruffled feelings.
SONG.—Tune.—“I likes a drop of good beer.”
I could kick up a din—
Such a passion I'm in,
It makes me feel very queer;
For it's just nothing but
A most desperate cut,
Which I havn't deserved, that's clear.
Such a passion I'm in,
It makes me feel very queer;
For it's just nothing but
A most desperate cut,
Which I havn't deserved, that's clear.
For the likes of such as this here,
For the likes of such as this here,
Is as far from right,
And as blameable quite,
As to rob a poor man of his beer.
For the likes of such as this here,
Is as far from right,
And as blameable quite,
As to rob a poor man of his beer.
[Exit, L.
| The Sphinx : A "Touch From The Ancients," | |