University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The Theban Council-chamber. Adelpates, Councillors, Courtiers, Guards, &c., seated.
Ade.
My lords and gentlemen,—no matter small
Is that which has induced us you to call
To meet thus in the midst of the recess.
The fact is this,—our country's in a mess;
Evils of no small kind the nation worry—

Enter Mercury quickly.
Mer.
Here, stop a minute—don't be in a hurry!

[All start and rise angrily.
Ade.
Holloa! of manners here's a precious breach!
To come and interrupt the royal speech!
Who are you?

Mer.
Don't you know me by my wings?
I'm Mercury, the god of lots of things—
Trade, shepherds, arts, law, eloquence, reciters,
But principally thieves and comic writers.
And if my bus'ness here you would enquire,
'Tis to oblige the authors, “by desire.”
I don't know what it is they see about me,
But they declared they couldn't do without me.
[To the audience.
Between ourselves, mind, and our royal host,
[Pointing to Adelpates.
Who's quite equivalent to any post,
The facts are these:—the scene of this affair,
Is laid in Thebes, whereof, as you're aware,
All the inhabitants are such sad fools—

Ade.
Ha!— (angrily.)


Mer.
Pooh! the fact's well known; it's taught in schools
So stupid all Bœotia's known to be,
That a Bœ-otian don't know A, B, C.
Well, as the best of jokes and situations
Oft stand in need of trifling explanations,
Which these poor Thebans couldn't give, d'ye see?
The authors thought they'd just apply to me.
And so—though doubtless some have been before us
With the idea—I'm here to act as Chorus.
And in that character I'll go the whole hog;
So keep your places, while I sing a prologue.
SONG.—Tune, “Bartlemy Fair.”

(Spoken.)
All alive! all alive, oh! Here you will see that
celebrated and astonishing animal, the Sphinx! found in the
most wild and foggy parts of the ancient writers, and brought
at an immense expense to this here establishment. It has
the head of a human being, the body of a dog, the paws of a
lion, the wings of a bird, the tail of a serpent, and has been
pronounced by able judges to be altogether uncommonly like
a whale. It will be seen alive, and has been brought here on
purpose to

(Spoken.)
Step forward! step forward! with your approbation,
and the animal will go through the whole of his wonderful
tricks and performances. He will ask his celebrated
riddles and enigmas, and eat up such of the nobility, gentry,
and the public generally, as are unable to answer them. No

extra charge will be made for feeding time, beyond a trifle for
the showman, who has nothing to live on but your kindness.
You will also see the celebrated Mr. Œdipus, the monster-tamer
from Corinth, who will make his first appearance in this
country, and enter the animal's den. He will stir him up, and
let the ladies hear him growl, in the course of the evening,
and perform many other feats of dexterity, which are

Ade.
Now, have you done?

Mer.
Just half a minute, please—
This is the Theban senate-house, and these
The king and senators; their business here
Is to devise some means their land to clear
Of the dread Sphinx. Now, then, old chap, I've done,
And you've my free permission to go on.

[Retires.
Ade.
Then we'll commence our business as before.
And so, my lords and gentlemen, once more—
We know our country is accursed of Juno—
One of the very few things that we do know.
We also understand—a rare occurrence—
That this great cause of terror and abhorrence—
This nuisance worse than Smithfield—

Mer.
Nuisance! what?
Smithfield's pronounced a most salubrious spot!

Ade.
Really, these interruptions are most trying—
[A loud scream outside.
It strikes us forcibly there's some one crying.
Go, some one, learn the nature of the row.
[Looking off.
What's this, our queen, with vexed and troubled brow?

Enter Themyssis, tragically, followed by Stupidites, and weeping Attendants, in a great state of excitement.
The.
Howl—howl—howl—howl! oh, ye are men of stone!
My child!—my boy!

Ade.
Speak! what's he been and done?
Climbing up trees again in his best jacket?
Or, no—the chimney-glass?—I knew he'd crack it!

The.
Alas! the fatal truth will out—it must—
No more will he or you that jacket dust.
His highness— (sobs)


Ade.
Well! don't keep us in the dark—

The.
“Took his accustomed airing in the park,”
When—oh!— (sobs)


Ade.
(to Stupidites)
Speak, thou slave! has he run away?

Stu.
No; but he's bolted, I regret to say.

Ade.
Bolted! How? Speak—my heart within me shrinks!

Stu.
Yes! bolted—swallowed—guzzled by the Sphinx!

SONG—“Follow, follow, over mountain.”
Stu.
Swallowed, swallowed, like an oyster,
By the hated Sphinx is he,
And I had to cut and run, sir,
Or he'd swallow, swallow me.

Ade.
Zounds! he'll swallow all the nation,
If we don't soon put a stop
To his dreadful mastication.
We the fatal twig must hop.

Chorus
—Swallowed, swallowed, all the nation,
By the monster soon will be,
If we don't try emigration;—
It's the only remedy.

Ade.
Ill-fated kinchin!—these are tidings dire:
Changing a happy father to a sigher.

The.
But shall we thus in idle anguish howl?
His goose is cook'd—we must “revenge his fowl
And most unnatural murder.”

Ade.
True, my dear
But how to do it, seems by no means clear.
Force is no use; and, as for ingenuity,
You know, 'mongst Thebans, that there are so few witty;
That stratagem can do but little for us.
Stay! where's the gent who calls himself the Chorus?
[Mercury comes forward, R.
Oh, there you are! I say, advise us here.

Mer.
Oh, Lor'! the Chorus mustn't interfere;
Yet, I don't know—you've got such rueful faces,
I'll tell you what is usual in such cases.

Ade.
We are all ears!

[All listen attentively.
Mer.
Good long ones, I should say.
Then listen: as a monarch in a play,
Of course you've got a young and lovely daughter.

Ade.
Of course.

Mer.
Then advertise in ev'ry quarter
Thus—“Any gent, who'll manage to deliver us
From this dread monster, cruel and carnivorous,
Shall wed our child, and in our stead be king—
He and his heirs—”

Ade.
Is that the usual thing?

Mer.
Always, upon the stage.

Ade.
Then, that's the sort;
We'll see to it at once—“break up the court.”

SONG—Adelpates.
“Here's to the Maiden of bashful,” &c.
Haste to the printer's, at number fifteen
In the square, and of moments be thrifty;
Tell him a poster at once to begin,
And order two hundred and fifty.
Let the bills pass
'Mongst every class,
I'll promise the winner shall marry the lass.

Mer.
Say that, of course, she's a wonderful prize,
Beauties that can't be outdone, sirs;
Cheeks like a rose, and no end of bright eyes,
And drawbacks and blemishes none, sirs;
For ne'er was a lass,
In play or in farce,
Whose charms didn't all other females' surpass.

Chorus
—Let the bills pass, &c.

[Exeunt all but Mercury, L.
Mer.
Now, then, there'll be a pretty row, I guess,
For Miss Jocasta—that's the young princess—
Will think, of course, she ought to have a voice
In that great matter, of a spouse the choice;
And when she hears her hand's to be the prize
Of any fellow who may chance—my eyes!
Talk of the—! Well, now, if that really ar'n't rum—
She's here, and in a most tremendous tantrum.

[Enter Jocasta, L., angrily, Verenysis trying to pacify her.
Ver.
Nay, sister, friend, I conjure you, be cool;
By all the ties of childhood and of school—
By those bright days, when, side by side, we grew—
The sampler stitched, and drank the pale sky-blue—
When backboards made our youthful forms genteel,
And stick-jaw pudding form'd the frugal meal—
By our first flights at grammar and dictation—
By every memory of—

Joc.
Botheration!
You of my friendship, it would seem, are tired,
Since that a coolness seems so much desir'd.
I can't be cool—rage almost turns my dizzy pate.

Ver.
Nay, all's, perhaps, not so bad as you anticipate.
Were it to save my native land from strife,
Methinks I might submit to be a wife.

Joc.
Less patriotically I'm inclin'd;
To marier pour la patrie I've no mind.

SONG—“There's nae luck.”
Joc.
My mother bids me bind my hair
With wreaths of bridal hue—
To marry some one, though I've not
The slightest notion who;
But, ere I'll yield, the house I'll keep—
I'm sure I know the way—
In worse hot water than it's in
Upon a washing-day.
She may thump, thump—scold, scold—
Storm, storm away,
But about her ears I'll pull the house,
And make the deuce to pay.

But shall I yield in tame submission? No—
I'll run away—

Mer.
No—will you really, though?

Joc.
(starting)
A man!

Mer.
Only the Chorus, lady belle.

Joc.
The Chorus—oh! indeed. I hope you're well.

Mer.
As to my health, all doubts, at once, abolish,
A chorus, generally, is tol-ol-ish.
But do you really mean to run away?

Joc.
I do—and no mistake—this very day;
(to Vere.)
At least, if you my flight will take a share of.

Ver.
Oh! I'm agreeable—

Mer.
That we're all aware of.

Joc.
All compliments 'twere fit we should be stowing,
And stand not on the order of our going,
But go at once, ere Pa is on our trail.
Let's book two places in the Athens Mail.
Farewell! ye scenes of childhood's early sport,
I leave this old ancestral Palace Court
With heartfelt anguish.

Mer.
Oh! we do not doubt it,
Few people quit the Palace Court without it.
But here's your Pa—you p'rhaps had best not meet:
Cut off—or he may cut off your retreat.

SONG.—Mercury.—“There's a good time coming.”

Chorus
—Here's the old chap coming.—Yes,
The old chap's coming.

[Exeunt Jocasta and Verenysis.
Mer.
Now they won't go—tho' they're so certain of it,
A Chorus is a sort of Derby Prophet.
Can prophecy starts, places, everything;
Those girls won't start. But stay—here comes the King.
[Looking off.
Now I'm at fault; if I can tell you what
He's after now, I wish I may be shot.
But here he is—his bus'ness may transpire,
In what he's going to say.

Enter Adelpates.
Ade.
(beckoning)
Young fellow!

Mer.
Sire.

Ade.
We're going to dinner in our quiet way;
Come, and take pot-luck with us. What d'ye say?

Mer.
The chorus to neglect his post?

Ade.
Pooh! Pooh!
The piece can spare you for a scene or two.

Mer.
Well, if I thought—

Ade.
Thought! what's the use of thinking?

Mer.
Well said, old fellow; let's be off like winking.

[Takes his arm, and exeunt rapidly.