 | The Sphinx : A "Touch From The Ancients," |  |
Scene II.
—A Landscape in Thebes.Enter Œdipus.
Œd.
Well, here I am, arrived on Theban ground,
To see if some adventures can't be found.
I'm sick of Corinth—and the stupid way
In which, as Prince, I lived there, day by day.
The Court—the scene of splendid dissipation,
Made me, at last, quite weary of my station.
The king, too, kept me down too much by far,
Like Railway scrip—I was much under Pa!
12
Without awaiting his Corinthian Orders.
SONG—Recitative—“Oh! Patrie.”
Oh, Pa! dear,
You were a great brute Pa, dear.
To you I'll ne'er return, oh!
Tho' to salute you, I did not tarry.
Pray don't be angry that I did escape here,
Provided with six shirts, two towels,
And some soap, oh! as recommended
By that hero—General Sir Charles Napier!
Air—“Harry Bluff,”
You were a great brute Pa, dear.
To you I'll ne'er return, oh!
Tho' to salute you, I did not tarry.
Pray don't be angry that I did escape here,
Provided with six shirts, two towels,
And some soap, oh! as recommended
By that hero—General Sir Charles Napier!
When a boy, like a muff, I was kept fast at home,
Tho' to far distant lands I'd strong notions to roam;
So I bolted; and now to Bœotia I'm come,
To trust to my wits for a living.
Air—“Schottische.”
Tho' to far distant lands I'd strong notions to roam;
So I bolted; and now to Bœotia I'm come,
To trust to my wits for a living.
For I'd heard, these Thebans were so wooden-headed,
Dull and pudden'-headed, that I could, unaided,
Make my way; so, like a good un, headed
Straight my course for Theban lands.
Air—“Robin Adair.”
Dull and pudden'-headed, that I could, unaided,
Make my way; so, like a good un, headed
Straight my course for Theban lands.
So no more grief for me—sobbing or care,
To keep me down, you'll see they will not dare.
Now, no more care on earth,
Larks—fun—and joy—and mirth,
Henceforth my lot shall be;—Mocking all care.
Air—“Where the bee sucks.”
To keep me down, you'll see they will not dare.
Now, no more care on earth,
Larks—fun—and joy—and mirth,
Henceforth my lot shall be;—Mocking all care.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
All sorts of jollity,—all sorts of row.
All sorts of jollity,—all sorts of row.
With no excitement, no adventure yet;
No highwayman has robbed me of my cash;
No railway train has knocked me into smash;
No lady in distress has sought my aid;
No duel has called forth my bright new blade;
No rows—no fights—no danger—no distress:
It has been rather slow, I must confess.
[Footsteps without.
But hush! what's that? See crowds rush on this way,
As if they had the what's-his-name to pay
13
With terror firmly rooted in each face;
So firm, indeed, I may say without error,
In terra firma ne'er was firmer terror.
Enter Dullus, running.
CONCERTED MUSIC.—Tune—“Agnes Polka.
Dul.
Hie away! Fly away!
Here he's close behind us.
If he catch us, he'll smash
And to powder grind us.
Enter Stupidites, running.
Stu.
Oh my eye! mizzle, fly!
Vanish, cut, and run, sirs!
Enter Sophtus, running.
Sop.
Oh dear, dear! he is here,
Sure as any gun, sirs!
Œd.
Tell me now—what's the row?
Like that man you're quaking,
Who songs inform could not get warm—
Shivering and shaking.
Dul.
Oh, sir! oh! such a go—
Surely you have heard, sir—
Stu.
A thing that eats whoe'er he meets—
Fact upon my word, sir.
Dul.
He'll meet you, greet you, task you, ask you
Riddles queer;
Stu.
Very merry, pleasing, teasing
Puns you'll hear.
Dul.
Yet, sir, get, sir, rather farther
From his way;
Stu.
He'll take you, make you guess them, or
Your life the forfeit pay.
Enter hastily, several frightened Peasants.
1st P.
Oh! dear, oh!
2nd P.
Here's a go!
Œd.
Well, but this is rum now:
Another—and another—and
Another still they come now.
14
—Hie away! Fly away!
Here he's close behind us.
If he catch us, he'll smash
And to powder grind us.
Œd.
Oh, Day and Martin! this is wondrous strange
But what's it all about? Quick, sir, arrange
Your scattered wits and speak.
Dul.
Oh, sir!
Enter Mercury, hastily, R.
Mer.
Here, stop!
If you want explanation, here's the shop.
I hope that I've kept nothing waiting long—
[To audience.
I say, have you seen anything go wrong?
Œd.
Who is this monster, of such fear the source?
Mer.
Who? why the Sphinx—you've heard of him, of course.
Œd.
Oh, yes! but stop—a word 'twixt you and me—
[Draws him aside.
Oughtn't the Sphinx, by right, to be a she?
Mer.
Yes; but our authors, by poetic license,
Have made a he of it.
Œd.
Well, come, they're nice uns.
But Lor'! the ancients—this to smash will send 'em.
Mer.
The ancients, hang 'em!—or, at least, suspend 'em.
Œd.
Just as you please. (To Peasants.)
I was about to swear,
That be this monster rugged Russian bear,
Bogy, Great Sea Serpent, or Monster Sweep,
I'll rid the country of it ere I sleep.
Mer.
You will?
Dul.
(kneeling)
Brave sir! and will you thus restore us?
Mer.
Silence, young man!—don't interrupt the Chorus.
For you, brave youth, if you this deed transact,—
Perform this “nuisances removal act,”
The king has promised, for his country's ransom,
His lovely daughter—
Œd.
Come! that's something handsome.
I feel a glorious destiny is mine,
And that my father's son's ordained to shine.
Where is the monster?
Mer.
Well, he's just now munching
Some of our happy peasantry for luncheon.
[Peasants groan, and are rushing off.
You needn't run—he's had this morning four of you:
I don't suppose he'll care for any more of you.
[Peasants groan.
15
There now, don't groan. I've sworn to save this nation,
And stop this monster's monstrous mastication.
No longer shall he fright you with his powers,
Nor to your peasantry pay “his devours.”
Away! my heart with eagerness is beating
For fame, for conquest, and a monster meeting!
SONG AND CHORUS.
Œd.
With a helmet on my brow,
And a broadsword in my hand,
I'll pretty quickly show you how
This monster to withstand.
His claret I will shed,
And sew him up quite dead;
I'll thrash him, and I'll smash him,
And I'll punch his caitiff head.
Chorus.
—With a helmet, &c. &c.
[Peasants, &c. exeunt, R. Œdipus also, is going, L., but is stopped by Mercury.
Mer.
Here, stop!—
Œd.
What, in the path of glory?
Mer.
Yes.
Œd.
What for, pray?
Mer.
Lovely woman in distress.
You know when sorrow's chains weigh down and fetter her,
“The man who would refuse to aid,” et cetera.
Œd.
Of course.
Mer.
Then on those ladies turn your sight.
[Pointing off, R. Œdipus starts with admiration.
Œd.
Good gracious! Œdipus, you're done for quite.
Mer.
Smitten?
Œd.
Decidedly—as deep as could be.
Mer.
Quite right—the plot requires that you should be.
Œd.
All the Greek fire of my Corinthian nature
Is kindled by one glance at that fair creature.
Enter Jocasta and Verenysis, with parasols and a bandbox. They are crossing.
Œd.
(energetically)
Stay, Madam!
Joc.
(startled)
Goodness gracious! how you've shaken one.
Œd.
Don't move another step until I've taken one.
[Kneels to her.
Joc.
Sir!
16
Nay! excuse my hasty way of showing it,
But I adore you—
Mer.
Isn't he a-going it?
Just allow me—you'll get on all the faster.
[Introducing them.
Corinthian Œdipus.—Princess Jocasta.
Œd.
The Prize One?
Mer.
Yes.
Œd.
Then by the light of day,
By all the glories of the milky way—
By Saturn—Mars—and all the other don stars.
If every monster, in six thousand monsters,
Were in six parts—and every part Old Scratch,
I'd thrash them all, to win so great a catch!
Joc.
Brave youth!—A sense of filial duty strong,
Seizes upon me. Yes, its very wrong
To leave one's home (to Verenysis)
. On second thoughts, we'll stay.
I couldn't think of dragging you away
From home and friends. So if you'll just step back
With these few things, I'll follow in a crack.
Ver.
Methinks I see which way the mouser jumps.
Mer.
(aside to Verenysis)
Of course—they want us both to stir our stumps.
A love-scene's coming, and in such, you know,
E'en friends and choruses are thought de trop.
CONCERTED MUSIC.—Air.—“Coal black Rose.”
Mer.
Lovely, rosy damsel, come!
Don't you see they're looking at us glum! glum! glum!
Ver.
I'm awake sir.—Yes, I come.
(to Jocasta)
Trust a friend for secresy.—I'm dumb! dumb! dumb!
Both.
Oh beaux! nice young beaux!
How you turn the women's heads, you nice young beaux!
Joc.
Just go ahead a little—there's a dear!
Mer.
We'll get out of hearing, Ma'am; you needn't fear.
Œd.
Do oblige us, and we'll come,
Soon to follow arter, singing tum-tum-tum.
Oh beaux, &c., &c.
[Mercury offers his arm to Verenysis; she takes it, and they exeunt.
Œd.
Now then. Of course my duty, you're aware,
Is first to kneel— (kneels)
—That's done: and now to swear—
Joc.
Lor', sir, please don't!—
17
Sweet plant from Nature's nursery!
Pray of my words don't take a view so cursory.
I'll swear to love you, till all nature thro'
Assumes one universal azure hue;
Which speech, translated, means, till all is blue;
That is, if you loves me as I loves you.
Joc.
I does—
Œd.
You does?
Joc.
I does, a dozen times.
Œd.
Oh, happy was the day I sought these climes!
Duet.—“Love was once a little boy.”
Œd.
I love you more than little boys
Joc.
Heigho! Heigho!
Œd.
Love tops, hardbake, cakes, or toys,
Joc.
Heigho! Heigho!
Œd.
If to have me you're content—
I'm on matrimony bent—
'Pon the honor of a gent!
Joc.
Heigho! Heigho!
Lady's hearts you can trepan,
Œd.
Heigho! Heigho!
Joc.
Like the braw John Highlandman.
Œd.
Heigho! Heigho!
Joc.
Here in Thebes, we know no art,—
So I own you've boned my heart.
So to buy the ring let's start.
Œd.
Heigho! Heigho!
But I and this companion blade of metal,
[Showing his sword.
The peasant-eating settler first must settle,
And then to settle down in life with you.
Joc.
Suppose you settle down in death, though?
Œd.
True!
But then for you to lose my life right happy should I be.
Joc.
Though I'm proud to think of that, what will become of me?
Œd.
Nay, do not fear, my life I can defend.
Joc.
Bother the monster!
Œd.
That's what I intend,
And then to claim you for my prize, and wife!
Joc.
But to do that you needn't risk your life—
That can be done at once.
Œd.
What sweet rusticity!
Fair sample of Bœotia's pure simplicity!
18
Honour, you know!
Joc.
Then take some help, at least.
Œd.
Egad! your words suggest a fine idea.
I'll tell you what—I'll rouse the natives here,
Make speeches to them, and, through agitation,
The monster smash by a de-monster-ation.
Why shouldn't I, like many fam'd in story,
Make others fight, and pocket all the glory?
SONG—Œdipus.
“Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me.”
I've come from fair Corinthia, by the borders of the sea,
Where rather deep and downyish the folks are thought to be;
I've studied pretty deeply how to mind my weather eye
In all I undertake; and so, Jocasta, don't you cry.
Oh, Jocasta,
Don't you cry for me;
I'm going to cook the monster's goose,
Your country for to free.
Where rather deep and downyish the folks are thought to be;
I've studied pretty deeply how to mind my weather eye
In all I undertake; and so, Jocasta, don't you cry.
Oh, Jocasta,
Don't you cry for me;
I'm going to cook the monster's goose,
Your country for to free.
This monster lives a long way off—a few doors down the street;
The electric telegraph shall tell you when with him I meet:
I'll take him to the Egyptian Hall, great crowds will thither hie—
One fool, you know, makes many; so, Jocasta, don't you cry,
Oh, Jocasta, &c.
The electric telegraph shall tell you when with him I meet:
I'll take him to the Egyptian Hall, great crowds will thither hie—
One fool, you know, makes many; so, Jocasta, don't you cry,
Oh, Jocasta, &c.
[Exeunt, R.
| The Sphinx : A "Touch From The Ancients," | |