University of Virginia Library

[Act 2]

CYCLOPS, ULYSSES, SILENUS, AND CHORUS.
CYCLOPS.
What means this uproar? this is not the hall
O' the revelling god—here are no drums, no cymbals—
Are my lambs safe within? do they suck well,
And frisk around the ewes? where is my cheese?
Have ye made plenty of it?—out, ye oafs!
Why don't ye speak?—this staff will cure your dumbness,
Look up—ye stand like dolts.

SILENUS.
'An please you, master,
I do look up—I see the heavens, the stars,
I think I see Orion—

CYCLOPS.
Where's my supper?

SILENUS.
'T is ready—blessings on your appetite!

CYCLOPS.
Are all my goblets fill'd with fresh-drawn milk?

SILENUS.
All full—O you may drink a sea of it.

CYCLOPS.
What milk? sheep's?—cow's?

SILENUS.
O every kind of milk,
Drink what you please, but don't gulp me down with it.

CYCLOPS.
No, no, you're safe enough—my maw would split
With such a capering fool in it as you are.
Rascal, what croud is that about my cave?
A gang of robbers?—see, they steal my cheese,
They're loaded with my lambs—what ails you?—speak,
Your eyes are swell'd—your head—

SILENUS.
Alas! good master,
I'm beaten to a jelly—woe is me!

CYCLOPS.
Who beat you, satyr?

SILENUS.
Those same rogues and thieves there—
I fought to the last—I could not save your lambs.

CYCLOPS.
Did not the scoundrels know I was a god,
Descended from the gods too?

SILENUS.
So I told them—
But still they stole your goods, and ate your cheese—
As to yourself, they said they'd tie you fast
To a long stake, and thro' that eye of yours
They'd spin your bowels—and besides all this,
They swore they'd flog you, bind you neck and heels
Together, lodge you in the hold o'the ship,
And sell you for a mason's labourer.

CYCLOPS.
Indeed! be brisk then—sharpen well my knives;
Light a huge fire—I'll cut the throats o'the dogs—
I'll eat 'em hot and hot—some I will stew—
I'm tir'd of mountain food—of stags and lions—
'T is long since I have tasted human flesh.

SILENUS.
It makes a pretty change—most wond'rous pleasant,
And very rarely do we catch a stranger.

ULYSSES.
O Cyclops! listen to thy guests awhile—
We wander'd from our ships to purchase food;
We chanc'd to find thy caves; the satyr, here,
Willingly sold us for a draught of wine
These lambs and cheese—we seiz'd on nought by force;
Now he denies all this—falsely denies it,
Merely because thou caught'st him at his tricks.

SILENUS.
I?—may'st thou perish—

ULYSSES.
If I speak not truly.

SILENUS.
I swear by Neptune, father of the Cyclops;
I swear by Triton, by Calypso fair,
By all the Nereides, by the sacred seas,
By every fish that swims—I swear, O Cyclops,
O my dear little master, yes, I swear,
I never sold him aught—if my oath's false,
May these, my dearest children, sadly perish!

CHORUS.
Stop—stop—in justice to our guests I speak—
The strangers bought the goods—if this be false,
May my dear father perish!

CYCLOPS.
Peace—ye lie—
I'd rather trust this man than Rhadamanthus—
But I would ask you, stranger, whence you came—
Where were you born?

ULYSSES.
We're Ithacans by birth;
From Troy we came, which now is lain in ashes;
Tempestuous winds have driven us on thy shores.

CYCLOPS.
So—ye are the men who took a trip to Troy,
To seize that runaway, that traitress, Helen.

ULYSSES.
We are, and much we've suffer'd in our battles.

CYCLOPS.
A precious set!—'t was well worth while to fight
Those bloody battles for a foolish woman.

ULYSSES.
Such was the will of fate—then blame not us—
But now, O son of the illustrious sea-god,
Humbly we ask thee, for we must speak plainly,
Not to destroy us—spare, O spare thy guests,
Nor glut thy stomach with an impious feast;
Reflect, O Cyclops, on the many honours
Thy father shares in Greece, think of his temples,
His sacred arbours, caves, and promontories;
Consider too the glory gain'd to Greece
By punishing the Trojans; of this glory
Thou hast thy share, tho' dwelling thus retir'd
Beneath the fire-distilling mount—O hear us!
Let soft humanity yet touch thy heart!
Scorn not th' entreaties of a suppliant stranger,
Bring forth the gifts of friendship—mighty gods!
To pierce with pointed spits our quivering limbs!
Alas! the plains of Troy have swallowed up
Far, far too many—Greece is desolate—
The widows weep their husbands; gray-hair'd parents
Lament their sons—wilt thou consume, O Cyclops,
The poor remains?—where shall we turn for pity?
Have mercy on us! think not of a banquet
So foul, so impious—O respect the gods—
Reflect how often wicked deeds have prov'd
The bane of those who wrought them.

SILENUS.
Hark ye, master,
I'll give you my advice—by all means eat
That prosing fellow, and be sure to swallow
His tongue—what a dear, pretty, prattling Cyclops
You 'll then become.

CYCLOPS.
Gain is the wise man's god,
All else is empty shew and idle boasting.
Dost think me fool enough to care what honours
Greece pays my father?—What's all that to me?
I tell thee, man, I do not even dread
The thunderbolts of Jove—for ought I know
I am as great a god as Jove himself—
I care not for him—let his thunders roar,
Let him dash down his floods—I'm safe enough—
Snug in my cave I eat, and drink, and snore;
And when the Thracian Boreas shoots his snows,
I clothe me in thick skins, I light a fire,
And laugh at frost and snow—the earth beneath me,
Whether she will or no, must throw out herbage
To feed my flocks, and those I offer only
To one most mighty god, this paunch of mine.
To eat, to drink, to care for nought beside,
This is the wise man's plan—plague on the rogues
Who gave you laws, who fix'd your rules of life;
I know no laws but these, to please myself,
To fill my belly, and to eat you all.
As to the presents that you prate about,
They sha'nt be wanting—I will share among you
Fire, and the cauldron of my stout fore-fathers;
'T is big enough for all of you—go in—
Go in, I say—and learn my mode of feasting—

ULYSSES.
Alas! alas! escap'd from Trojan spears,
From swelling surges, what a fate awaits us!
The monster's heart is harder than his rocks.
O Pallas! goddess, sprung from Jove himself,
Now, now defend us! dangers tenfold blacker
Than those we fac'd at Troy surround us here—
O thou, who sitt'st above the glittering stars,
Look down upon us, save us, Jove, O save us!

SEMI-CHORUS.
Open, O Polypheme, thy mighty jaws;
Behold prepar'd
The roast, the boil'd—
I see thy grinders tear
The hateful food, fresh seeth'd
Within the hairy skin.

SEMI-CHORUS.
O could I quit, for ever quit
These gloomy caves,
These impious feasts!
Ah cruel, bloody wretch!
Who hear'st, but hear'st unmov'd,
E'en at the sacred hearth,
The suppliant's prayer.