University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

—The Sphinx's larder. Themyssis, Dullus, Stupidites, Noïdeas, Sophtus, Peasants, &c., discovered tied to rocks. Jars labelled, “Potted Thebans,” “Preserved Senators,” “Pickled Soldiers,” &c. Jocasta as just brought in. The Sphinx standing by.
Sph.
Now for a grand battue; I've asked a problem,
Which they can't solve—so up at once I'll gobble 'em.
Dolts, Thebans, loggerheads, and lubbers, hear me!
If you the mystery I've proposed can clear me,
I'll make you free—almost as free—nay quite,
As have our authors made with me to-night.
D'ye give it up?—Halloa! what's that! I heard steps?
Yes, there are footsteps coming down the yard steps.

Joc.
Joy! we're preserved!

Sph.
You soon will be, my dears;
Pickled, at least—can I believe my ears?

[Listening.
The.
Succour's at hand! oh, with delight I jump!

Sph.
Sucker! pooh! nonsense! who'd be such a pump?

Enter Œdipus with his sword drawn.
Joc.
(runs up and embraces him.)
My Œdipus!

Œd.
My bride—my future missis!
Not eaten! I'll devour you with kisses.

Sph.
Young man, you've lost your wits—though, by the bye,
If you're a Theban gent, that won't apply.
Still it's extremely kind of you to call.
You'll stay to supper.

Œd.
Monster! not at all.
Another supper you shall ne'er di-gest;
Prepare to die just now—

[Makes a movement to stab him.
Sph.
My bold young guest,
Are you aware, ere you this form can run through,
That certain other forms must first be gone through;
That Juno set me up in business here—
License, good-will, and all expences clear.
With power to eat such of the population,
As of my riddles can't give explanation.

Œd.
Riddles! pooh! pooh! I'll give you leave to guzzle me,
If you've a riddle hard enough to puzzle me.
No Theban I,—in Corinth was I grown,
Where the great Joseph Miller's works are known.
Know that my vivid intellects are able,
To solve the meaning of a Railway table.
My mind feels equal—yes, I vow it does,
To read a page of the Fonetic Nuz!

Sph.
Egad! if that's the case, I must prepare
For a great mental effort. Now, beware!
Thus, certain doom I launch upon thy head—
Rash boy—say, why do we all go to bed?
D'ye give it up?

Œd.
No! I expound it thus—
It is—because the bed won't come to us!

[Music.—A crash. The walls fall down, and every vestige of the Sphinx's dwelling disappears, showing an extensive view of the country; all the armed Thebans, Adelpates, Women, Children, &c. grouped. Jocasta and Œdipus embrace—also Adelpates and Themyssis. All shout.
Sph.
My spell is broken! Matter's floored by mind,
Though matter of a questionable kind.
My doom to classic students now is known,
I've got to dash my brains out 'gainst a stone!
Let's see if I a decent one can hit upon,
Yes, that appears a goodish rock to split upon.
Now, clear the way there. One! two! three!

[The people fall back. Sphinx makes a run at the rock, head first; Mercury runs briskly in and stops him.
Mer.
Stand back!
Remember, that a head's no joke to crack!
I shan't allow it.

Sph.
What! my worthy Chorus,
Fly in the faces of Apollodorus,
Hesiod, and many another ancient buffer!

Mer.
Pooh! pooh! they've got no friends, so let them suffer.
Our authors seeing now what's all the go
Are red republicans, or nearly so;
Of stern correctness trampling on the border,
They run wild riot o'er established order,
Defying all the recognised authorities.

Œd.
No, that's not true, I'm sure.

Mer.
Egad, no more it is.
No—to one sovereign power still they bow,
And throw themselves upon its mercy now.
To them—your subjects,—pray kind treatment show.
Whether their subject's treated well or no.

FINALE.
Tune—“Sure such a day.”
Œd.
Oh, what a row, what a rumpus, and a rioting,
In every seat, from hands and feet, I'd like to hear.
Do, if you please, then, our authors' fears all quieting,
On us bestow, before you go, a parting cheer.

Tune—“Olga Waltz.”
Joc.
Then all ill-nature scorning,
Let smiles your lips adorning,
Be now and in the morning,
When daylight doth appear.

Tune—“Rataplan.”
Mer.
That's the plan—that's the plan—that's the plan, plan, plan, plan, plan,
Now for you, to pursue,
Just so—and we know—
Without joke, you're the folks who can—

Sph.
(spoken)
Stop, young man!—
Tune—“Cease, rude Boreas.”
Cease good chorus, bustling prater,
List ye landsmen all to me,
One more question—s' help me tater—
Answer'd yet remains to be.—

(Spoken, to audience)
It's only one, but it's an important one;
I've asked everybody else questions, now let me ask you one—
'tis this: Is this piece to succeed, or—d'ye give it up?

CHORUS.
Tune—“Ibrahim Pacha Quadrille.”
The Sphinx is overthrown;
Our country's woes are o'er;
With you it rests alone
To bid him live once more.
Your smiles will give him ease,
And fill with joy his cup:
Then say his riddles please,
Nor bid us give them up.

[Mercury drags the Sphinx to a block of stone, C., and places him in the same attitude as that in which he was first discovered. A globe rises on the stone, upon which Mercury stands over the Sphinx in the attitude of Canova's statue. The peasants group around, and the curtain falls.