University of Virginia Library

THE TRIUMPHS OF THE GOUT.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

• Goddess of the Gout.
• Ocypus.
• Physician.
• Nurse.
• Messenger.
• Mountebanks.
• Chorus.
• Spirits.

Scene lies in Thebes.

Scene, a Chamber.

Enter Ocypus lame, and leaning on the Nurse.
Ocyp.
Whence, without Wound proceeds this horrid Pain,
That robs me of the Assistance of my Feet?
While, like a Bow-string by the forcefull Arm
Of some bold Archer strain'd, the cracking Sinews
Labour and stretch; and force me to complain,
That Length of Time but strengthens the Disease.

Nur.
Raise thyself up, my Son, nor bear so hard,
Lest, helpless as thou art, with thee I fall.

Ocyp.
Less weighty then, to humour thee, I'll lean,
And rest upon my Foot, and bear my Pain.
For Shame it is, that Youth should ask the Aid
Of such a prating, old, decrepit Wretch.

Nur.
Forbear, vain Boy, thy scoffing Insolence.
Nor vaunt too much thy Youth; for well thou know'st,
In Sickness Youth is impotent as Age.
Be govern'd; for this Arm should I withdraw,
Thou fall'st, while my old Feet unshaken stand.

Ocyp.
But if thou fall'st, thro' Age thou fall'st, not Sickness:
Old Age is weak, tho' prompt and willing ever—

Nur.
Leave arguing; and tell me by what Chance
This Pain hath got Possession of thy Toe.

Ocyp.
As in the Course I exercis'd, awry
My Ankle turn'd, and thence the Pain ensu'd.

Nur.
Why, as the Fellow said, who careless sat
Clipping his grisley Beard, then run again.

Ocyp.
Or wrestling might I not the Hurt receive,
When lock'd together were our grappling Limbs?

Nur.
A trusty Champion by my Troth thou art,
If all thy Fury light upon thyself.
But this is a meer Circle of Evasions.
And I myself the like Discourse have held
In former times, and try'd to varnish o'er,
E'en to my dearest Friends, th'unpleasing Truth;
But now when ev'ry swelling Member speaks,
And burning Dolours torture thy whole Body—

Enter Physician.
Phy.
O! where is Ocypus, illustrious Youth?
For lame, I hear, are his victorious Feet.
And therefore to assist him am I come.
But see! where careless on the Couch diffus'd,
Supine he lies!—Heav'n grant thee Health, my Son,
And to thy Feet restore their wonted Strength.
Declare to me, O Ocypus, the Cause
Of thy Complaint: perhaps my pow'rfull Art
May for thy Anguish find some quick Relief.

Ocyp.
Intolerable Pain my Foot consumes.

Phy.
Whence came it? how? what Accident? explain.

Ocyp.
Or in the straining Race, or happ'ly while
My Gymnick Exercises I perform'd,
Some Hurt from my Companions I receiv'd.

Phy.
Then where's the sore and angry Inflammation?
And why no Fomentation on the Part?

Ocyp.
The woolen Bandage I abhorr.

Nur.
Alas!
How banefull is the Pride of handsome Looks!

Phy.
What therefore must be done? shall I lay open
Thy tumid Foot? But, Ocypus, be sure
If once I seize upon it, I shall drain,
At many bleeding Wounds, thy Arteries.

Ocyp.
Put all thy new Devices now in Practice,
So from this horrid Pain my Foot be freed.

Phy.
Then lo! my steely Instrument I draw,
This crooked, sharp, blood-thirsting Instrument.

Ocyp.
Hey! ho!

Nur.
Physician, what dost thou intend?
Wou'dst thou with sharp Incisions vex him more?
And, without knowing why, his Foot endanger?
He hath abus'd thee with an idle Tale.
For neither in the straining Race, nor while
His Gymnick Exercises he perform'd,
From his Companions did he Hurt receive.
Then listen to my Tale. Healthfull he came,
And all unwounded home; and greedily
The Ev'ning Feast devour'd, and drain'd the Bowl;
Then falling on the Couch securely slept.
But at Mid-night awaking, loud he roar'd,
As smitten by some God: Fear seiz'd us all.
And, Oh! he cried, whence came this dire Mischance
Some torturing Dæmon seizes on my Foot.
Thus on his Couch up-sitting all Night long
His Foot in sad Solemnity he moan'd.
But when the Cock's shrill-sounding Trump proclaim,
The dawning Day, lamenting forth he comes,
And on my Shoulder leans his fev'rish Hand,
While his disabled Footsteps I upheld.
All that he told thee is a forg'd Device
To veil the Secret of his dire Disease,
Which now in ev'ry Limb begins to rack him,
Nor yet is able to extort the Truth.

Ocyp.
Old Age is ever arm'd with mighty Words;
Vaunting in Speech, but impotent in Action.
He, who when sick his nursing Friends deceives,
Like the starv'd Wretch that hungry Mastick chews,
But cheats himself, and fosters his Disease.

Phy.
Thou cheatest all; now that, now saying this,
Confessing Pain, but not explaining what.

Ocyp.
And how shall I explain it? I indeed
Know that I suffer Pain; and that is all.

Phy.
When Pain, without apparent Cause, invades
The swelling Foot, a Man may please himself
In hunting after this and that Solution,
But can't mistake the Nature of his Evil.
And now hear this, howe'er unpleasing Truth,
At length, with Vengeance due, it's come upon thee.

Ocyp.
It? what? alas! what terrible Disease,
That needs such Preface to its horrid Name?

Nur.
The Gout, O wretched Ocypus, whose Pangs
And gnawing Tortures thou didst once deride.

Ocyp.
But what, O skilfull Artist, what say'st thou?

Phy.
Farewell, to serve thee I neglect myself.

Ocyp.
What Accident or Business calls thee hence?

Phy.
Into a cureless Evil thou art fall'n.

Ocyp.
Must I then ever lame, tormented ever,
Drag on a Life of everlasting Woe?

Phy.
Fear not; thou shalt not be for ever lame.

Ocyp.
What worse have I to fear?

Phy.
On either Leg
Her galling Fetters will the Goddess bind.

Ocyp.
Alas! in t'other sympathizing Foot
Methinks I feel a new unusual Pain,
Or am I motionless? Or wherefore dread I [rising up.

To place these once so nimble Feet on Earth?
Seiz'd like a Child with vain and sudden Fear:
Now by the Gods, th'immortal Gods, I beg,
If ought thy Art suggest of Aid or Comfort,
Thy friendly Help impart, and heal my Pain,
Or surely I shall die: within I feel
The secret Venom, and the thrilling Arrow
That pierces thro' my Feet, and tears my Sinews.

Phy.
Not to amuse thee with unmeaning Words,
Like some of those who call themselves Physicians,
But of the healing Science nothing know,
I'll briefly shew the State of thy Complaint:
An unsurmountable and strong Disease
Is fall'n upon thee: Bonds more hard and stubborn
Than those Steel-temper'd Shackles, which the Hand
Of Justice fixes on the bold Offender:
A dreadfull, undiscover'd, secret Ill,
Whose Burden human Nature scarce can bear.

Ocyp.
Alas! oh! oh! what inward Smart is this,
That penetrates my Foot? oh! on thy Arm
Support me, ere I fall, and lead me on
As the young Satyrs reeling Bacchus lead.

[falls on the Couch.
Phy.
There leave him on the Couch; refreshing Sleep
His much exhausted Spirits will recruit.

Exeunt Nurse and Physician.
Ocypus solus.
Ocyp.
O horrid Name! detested by the Gods!
Gout, ruefull Gout! of sad Cocytus born!
Whom in the mirky Caves of Tartarus
The Fiend Megæra in her Womb conceiv'd,
And nourish'd at her Breast: Alecto too
With her fell Milk the wayward Infant fed.
But oh! what God brought thy disastrous Pow'r
To taint this Light, and harrass human Kind?
If Punishment condign pursue the Dead,
For Crimes committed in their Days of Nature,
What need was there in Pluto's dreary Realms
With Streams forbidden Tantalus to vex?
To whirl Ixion on the giddy Wheel?
And weary Sisyphus with fruitless Toil?
It sure had been sufficient Punishment
Had each Offender the sharp Pains endur'd,
That tear this meagre miserable Carcase:
While thro' th'obstructed Pores the struggling Vapour
And bitter Distillation force their Way.
E'en thro' the Bowels runs the scalding Plague,
And wastes the Flesh with Floods of eddying Fire.
So rage the Flames in Ætna's sulph'rous Womb:
So 'twixt Charybdis and vex'd Scylla rave
Th'imprison'd Tides, and in wild Whirlpools toss'd
Dash 'gainst the mould'ring Rocks the foaming Surge.
O Evil unexplor'd! how oft in vain
We fondly try to mitigate thy Woes,
And find no Comfort, by false Hopes abus'd.

Sleeps.
SCENE changes, and discovers the Chorus, consisting of of Gouty Men and Women, marching in Procession to the Temple of the Gout, with Musick and Dancing.
Chorus.

[Exit Chorus.

Scene, A Chamber.

Ocypus solus.
Ocyp.
Come, O my Comfort, my Supporter, come,
My Staff, my third best Leg, O! now uphold
My tott'ring Footsteps, and direct my Way,
That lightly on the Earth my Foot may tread.
Wretch, from thy Pallet raise thy heavy Limbs,
And quit the cover'd Closeness of the Room.
Dispell the Cloud, that weighs thy Eyelids down,
In open Day, and in the golden Sun
On purer Air thy enliven'd Spirit feast.
For now my willing Mind invites me forth;
But the weak Flesh refuses to comply.
Be resolute, my Soul; for well thou know'st,
The Gouty Wretch, that wou'd but cannot move,
Ought to be number'd with th'inactive Dead.
Come on.

Exit Ocypus.
Scene changes.
Enter Ocypus, who discovers the Chorus before a Temple offering Sacrifices to the Gout, with Musick and Dancing. Dance.
Ocyp.
—But who are they, whose Hands with Crutches fill'd,
Whose tossing Heads with Eldern Garlands bound,
Seem in wild Dance some Feast to celebrate?
Do they to thee, Apollo, Pæns sing?
Then wou'd the Delphick Laurel shade their Brows.
Or chant they rather Bacchanalian Hymns?
Then wou'd their Temples be with Ivy wreath'd.
Whence are ye, Strangers? speak: the Truth declare.
Declare, O Friends, what Deity ye worship.

Cho.
But who art thou, that mak'st us this Demand?
Thou too, as from thy Crutch may be inferr'd,
And hobbling Pace, thou art a Votary
Of the Invincible Divinity.

Ocyp.
I am; nor am unworthy of the Name.

Chorus.

Ocyp.
Say by what Rites mysterious to her Altar
Doth the dread Pow'r her Votaries admit?

Cho.
Nor with the biting Steel ourselves we wound,
Or sprinkle with our Blood the hallow'd Ground:
Nor are our Necks with galling Collars worn;
Or livid Backs with sounding Scourges torn:
Nor at the Altar, when the Victim dies,
Gorge we the raw and bleeding Sacrifice:
But when the Spring the rising Sap impells,
And the young Elm with genial Moisture swells,
When in the Hedges on the budding Spray
The Blackbird modulates her various Lay:
Then unperceiv'd she drives her piercing Dart,
And wounds the inmost Sense with secret Smart;
The Hip, the nervous Thigh, the Ankles swell,
The bending Knee, and firm supporting-Heel:
The strong-knit Shoulder and the sinewy Arm,
And Hand mechanick feel th'intestine Harm,
Thro' ev'ry Joint the thrilling Anguish pours,
And gnaws, and burns, and tortures, and devours;
Till Length of Suff'ring the dire Pow'r appease,
And the fierce Torments at her bidding cease.

Ocyp.
Unweeting then her Votary am I:
Thou, Goddess, gentle and benign, approach!
And I, with these thy Vot'ries, will begin
Thy sacred, solemn, customary Song.

[Dance.
Chorus.
Thou Air, be still, thou, Sky serene;
Thy Groans, thou, gouty Wretch, forbear,
Propt on her Staff, behold the Queen
Deigns at our Altars to appear!

[The Goddess of the Gout descends or enters.
Chorus.
Hail! gentlest of the heav'nly Pow'rs!
Propitious on thy Servants smile;
And grant in Spring's fermenting Hours
A quick Deliv'rance from our Toil.

Godd.
Lives there on Earth to whom I am unknown,
Unconquerable Queen of mighty Woes?
Whom nor the fuming Censer can appease,
Nor Victim's Blood on blazing Altars pour'd.
Me not Apollo's Self with all his Drugs,
High Heav'n's divine Physician, can subdue;
Nor his learn'd Son, wife Æsculapius.
Yet ever since the Race of Man begun,
All have essay'd my Fury to repell,
Racking th'Invention of still-baffled Physick.
Some this Receipt 'gainst me, some that explore.
Plantane they bruise, the Parsley's odorous Herb,
The lenient Lettice, and the Purslain wild.
These bitter Horehound, and the watry Plant
That on the verdant Banks of Rivers grows;
Those Nettles crush, and Comfrey's viscid Root,
And pluck the Lentils in the standing Pools.
Some Parsnips, some the glossy Leaf apply
That shades the downy Peach, benumming Henbane,
The Poppies soothing Gum, th'emollient Bulb,
Rind of the Punick Apple, Fleawort hot,
The costly Frankincense, and searching Root
Of potent Hellebore, soft Fenugreek
Temper'd with Rosy Wine, Collamphacum,
Nitre and Spawn of Frogs, the Cypress-Cone,
And Meal of bearded Barley, and the Leaf
Of Colworts unprepar'd, and Ointments made
Of pickled Garus, and (O vain Conceit!)
The Dung of Mountain-Goats, and human Ordure,
The Flow'r of Beans, and hot Sarcophagus.
The pois'nous Ruddock some, and Shrew-Mouse boil,
The Weasel some, the Frog, the Lizard green,
The fell Hyæna, and the wily Fox,
And branching Stone-buck bearded like a Goat.
What kind of Metals have ye left untry'd?
What Juice? what weeping Tree's medic'nal Tear?
What Beasts? what Animals have not bestow'd
Their Bones, or Nerves, or Hides, or Blood, or Marrow,
Or Milk, or Fat, or Excrement, or Urine?
The Draught of Four Ingredients some compose,
Some Eight, but more from Seven expect Relief;
Some from the purging Hiera seek their Cure,
On mystick Verses vainly some depend;
The tricking Jew gulls other Fools with Charms;
While to the cooling Fountains others fly,
And in the crystal Current seek for Health.
But to all these fell Anguish I denounce,
To all who tempt me ever more severe.
But they who patiently my Visit take,
Nor seek to combat me with Anodynes,
Still find me gentle and benevolent.
For in my Rites whoe'er participates,
His Tongue with Eloquence I straight endow,
And teach him with facetious Wit to please,
A merry, gay, jocose Companion boon:
Round whom the noisy Croud incessant laugh,
As to the Baths the crippled Wretch is borne.
For that dire Até, of whom Homer sings,
That dreaded pow'rfull Deity am I:
Who on the Heads of Men insulting tread,
And silent, soft, and unobserv'd approach.
But as from me the acid Drop descends,
The Drop of Anguish, I the Gout am call'd.
Now then, my Vot'ries all, my Orgies sing,
And praise with Hymns th'unconquerable Goddess.

Chorus.

Enter Messenger with two Mountebanks bound.
Mes.
O! Mistress, opportunely art thou met.
Attend; no vain or idle Tale I bring.
But well supported by authentick Facts.
As thro' the Town (for so thou didst enjoin)
With slow and gentle Pace I lately rang'd;
Searching if haply I might chance to find
A Mortal bold enough to brave thy Pow'r;
There quiet all, and patient I beheld,
Subdu'd, O Goddess, by thy mighty Arm.
All but these two presumptuous daring Wretches,
Who to the gaping Crowd with Oaths deny'd
To pay due Reverence to thy Deity,
Boasting that they wou'd banish thee from Earth:
Wherefore with Fetters strong their Legs I bound
And after five Days March have brought them hither,
A weary March of twice Five hundred Feet.

Godd.
Swift hast thou come, my winged Messenger,
Say, from what Regions, thro' what rugged Paths,
Hast thou thy tedious longsome Way pursu'd?
Explain, that I may comprehend thy Speed?

Mes.
Five Stairs, whose weak and dislocated Frame
Trembled beneath my Tread, descending down,
First to the level Pavement I arriv'd,
That 'gainst my Feet its jarring Surface turn'd;
Which having with uneasy Footsteps cross'd,
I enter'd next the rough and flinty Street,
Whose pointed Stones the Gouty Foot abhors:
Here meeting with a smooth, tho' slipp'ry Path,
I hurried on, but with back-sliding Haste,
The trodden Slime my tott'ring Ankle turn'd.
Thus as I journey'd, down on ev'ry Side
The streaming Sweat descended, and my Legs
Faint and relax'd no longer firmly trod.
Thence lab'ring in each Limb, and overtoil'd,
A broad, but dang'rous Way receiv'd me next:
For on each Hand the whirling Chariots flew,
And urg'd, and press'd, and drove me faster on:
But I with nimble Action ply'd my Feet,
And quick into an Alley stept aside,
Till ev'ry rattling hasty Wheel was pass'd.
For, as to thee, O Goddess, I belong'd,
Thy Votary, I ought not, cou'd not run.

Godd.
Servant, thou hast not well perform'd in vain,
Nor shall thy prompt Obedience want Reward.
In Recompence this pleasing Boon receive,
Three Years of light and gentler Pains to bear.
But ye, most impious Heav'n-abandon'd Villains,
What and whence are ye, that so proudly dare
The Lists to enter with the mighty Gout,
Whose Pow'r not Jove himself can overcome?
Speak, Wretches—Many a Hero have I tam'd,
As all the wise and learn'd can testify.
Priam was gouty, as old Poets sing,
And by the Gout the swift Achilles fell.
Bellerophon, and Thebes' unhappy Lord,
The mighty Oedipus, my Prowess own'd,
And, of maim'd Pelops' Race, young Plisthenes.
He too, who led to Troy his warriour Bands,
The halting Son of Pæas, felt my Dart,
And by my Dart the Lord of Ithaca,
Not by the pois'nous Trygon's Bone expir'd.
Wherefore, ill-fated Wretches, be assur'd,
Your wicked Deeds shall meet their due Reward.

1st Mo.
Syrians we are, in fair Damascus born,
But urg'd by Want and hungry Poverty,
O'er Earth and Sea like Vagabonds we roam,
And with this Ointment, which our Father gave,
We comfort and relieve the Sick and Lame.

Godd.
What is your Ointment, say, and how prepar'd?

2d Mo.
We dare not tell, to Secrecy oblig'd
Both by the solemn Oath of our Profession,
And last Injunctions of a dying Father;
Who charg'd us to conceal the pow'rfull Virtue
Of this our Med'cine, whose strong Efficacy,
O Gout, can e'en thy madding Fires allay.

Godd.
Ha! miserable Wretches, say ye so?
Is there on Earth a Med'cine, whose Effect
My Pow'r is not sufficient to controul?
Come on, upon this Issue let us join.
Let us experience now the Prevalence
Of your strong Med'cine or my raging Flames.
Hither, tormenting Spirits, who preside
O'er my distracting Sorrows, hither come.

Spirits descend.
Godd.
Thou from the tender Sole to ev'ry Toe
Round all the Foot the burning Anguish spread.
Thou in the Heel shalt settle, from the Thigh
Thou on the Knee shalt pour the bitter Drop.
And each of you a Finger shall torment.

Spi.
Behold, O Queen, thy Orders are perform'd.
See! where the Wretches maim'd and roaring lie,
Their Limbs distorted with our fierce Attack.

Godd.
Now, Friends, inform us of the Truth; declare
If ought your boasted Ointment now avail.
For if my Forces it indeed subdue,
Far, to the dark Recesses of the Earth,
The Depths profound of Tartarus I'll fly,
Henceforth unknown, unhonour'd, and unseen.

1st Mo.
Behold the Ointment is apply'd! but, oh!
The Flames relent not. Oh! I faint, I die!
A secret Poison all my Leg consumes.
Not so pernicious is the Bolt of Jove:
Nor rages so the wild tempestuous Sea:
Nor more resistless is the Lightning's Blast.
Sure three-mouth'd Cerberus my Sinews gnaws:
Or on my Flesh some pois'nous Viper preys;
Or to my Limbs th'envenom'd Mantle clings,
Drench'd in the Centaur's black malignant Gore!
O Queen, have Mercy! freely we acknowledge
That, nor our Ointment, nor ought else on Earth,
Thy unresisted Fury can restrain,
O mighty Conqueress of human Kind!

Ocyp.
“I too, O potent Goddess, Grace implore.
“Once in the wanton Pride of vig'rous Youth,
“Vain of my beauteous Limbs, and active Strength
“I mock'd thy Dolours, and thy Pow'r defy'd.
“But now chastis'd by thy afflictive Arm,
“And by thy nearer Influence subdu'd,
“My impious Vaunts, O Goddess, I retract,
“Adore thy Might, and deprecate thy Wrath.”

Godd.
Spirits, forbear, and mitigate their Woes.
See they repent 'em of the dire Contention.
Now let the World confess my stubborn Pow'r,
Nor mov'd by Pity, nor by Drugs subdu'd.

Goddess and Spirits re-ascend.]
Cho.

[Dance.
Cho.