Obrazy na stronie
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A magnificent Temple, built of thigh-bones and death'sheads, and tiled with scalps. Over the Altar the statue of Famine, veiled; a number of boars, sows, and’s uckingpigs, crowned with thistle, shamrock, and oak, sitting on the steps, and clinging round the Altar of the Temple.

Enter Swellfoot, in his royal robes, without perceiving
the Pigs.
Thou supreme Goddess by whose power divine
These graceful limbs are clothed in proud array
[He contemplates himself with satisfaction.

Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunch
Swells like a sail before a favouring breeze,
And these most sacred nether promontories
Lie satisfied with layers of fat; and these
Boeotian cheeks, like Egypt's pyramid,

Nor with less toil were their foundations laid,”)

ustain the cone of my untroubled brain, That point, the emblem of a pointless nothing ! Thou to whom Kings and laurelled Emperors, Radical-butchers, Paper-money-millers, Bishops and deacons, and the entire army Of those fat martyrs to the persecution of stifling turtle-soup, and brandy-devils, Offer their secret vows! Thou plenteous Ceres Of their Eleusis, hail

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* See Universal History for an account of the number of people who died, and the immense consumption of garlic by the wretched Egyptians, who made a sepulchre for the name as well as the bodies of their tyrants.


the SW 1 Ne. sr. Airchont's i. The same, alas ! the same ; Though only now the name Of pig remains to me.

sexiichorus it. If 'twere your kingly will Us wretched swine to kill, What should we yield to thee!

sWELL FOOT. Why skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar.

Chorus of SW i Ne.

I have heard your Laureate sing,
That pity was a royal thing ;
Under your mighty ancestors, we pigs
Were bless'd as nightingales on myrtle sprigs,
Or grasshoppers that live on noon-day dew,
And sung, old annals tell, as sweetly too :
But now our sties are fallen in, we catch

The murrain and the mange, the scab and itch; Sometimes your royal dogs tear down our thatch,

And then we seek the shelter of a ditch ; Hog-wash or grains, or ruta-baga, none Has yet been ours since your reign begun.

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Happier swine were they than we,
Drowned in the Gadarean sea—
I wish that pity would drive out the devils
Which in your royal bosom hold their revels,
And sink us in the waves of your compassion 1
Alas ! the Pigs are an unhappy nation :
Now if your Majesty would have our bristles

To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons With rich blood, or make brawn out of our gristles,

In policy—ask else your royal Solons— You ought to give us hog-wash and clean straw, And sties well thatched; besides, it is the law .

SWellfoot. This is sedition, and rank blasphemy Ho! there, my guards ! Enter a GUARD.

Your sacred Majesty

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PUrg ANAx. Oh, would that this were all ! The oracle !

MAMMON. Why it was I who spoke that oracle, And whether I was dead drunk or inspired, I cannot well remember ; nor, in truth, The oracle itself!

PURGANAx. The words went thus:— “Boeotia, choose reform or civil war ! When through the streets, instead of hare with dogs, A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with hogs, Riding on the Ionian Minotaur.”

MAMMON. Now if the oracle had ne'er foretold This sad alternative, it must arrive, Or not, and so it must now that it has ; And whether I was urged by grace divine, Or Lesbian liquor to declare these words, Which must, as all words must, be false or true; It matters not : for the same power made all, Oracle, wine, and me and you—or none— 'Tis the same thing. If you knew as much Of oracles as I do—

PURGANAx. You arch-priests Believe in nothing ; if you were to dream Of a particular number in the lottery, You would not buy the ticket !


- Yet our tickets Are seldom blanks. But what steps have you taken? For prophecies, when once they get abroad, Like liars who tell the truth to serve their ends, Or hypocrites, who, from assuming virtue, Do the same actions that the virtuous do, Contrive their fulfilment. This Iona— Well—you know what the chaste Pasiphae did, Wife to that most religious King of Crete, And still how popular the tale is here ; And these dull swine of Thebes boast their descent From the free Minotaur. You know they still Call themselves bulls, though thus degenerate; And everything relating to a bull Is popular and respectable in Thebes: Their arms are seven bulls in a field gules. They think their strength consists in eating beef, Now there were danger in the precedent If Queen Iona—

purg ANAx.
I have taken good care

That shall not be. I struck the crust o' the earth
With this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare
And from a cavern full of ugly shapes,
I chose a LEEch, a GAdfly, and a Rat.
The gadfly was the same which Juno sent
To agitate Io,” and which Ezechielt mentions
That the Lord whistled for out of the mountains
Of utmost Ethiopia, to torment
Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast

* The Prometheus Bound of Æschylus. t And the Lord whistled for the gadfly out AEthiopia, and for the bee of Egypt, &c.—Ezech iEL.

Has a loud trumpet like the Scarabee ;
His crooked tail is barbed with many stings,
Each able to make a thousand wounds, and each
Immedicable ; from his convex eyes
He sees fair things in many hideous shapes,
And trumpets all his falsehood to the world.
Like other beetles he is fed on dung—
He has eleven feet with which he crawls,
Trailing a blistering slime; and this foul beast
Has tracked Iona from the Theban limits,
From isle to isle, from city unto city,
Urging her flight from the far Chersonese
To fabulous Solyma, and the AEtnean Isle,
Ortygia, Melite, and Calypso's Rock,
And the swart tribes of Garamant and Fez,
AEolia and Elysium, and thy shores,
Parthenope, which now, alas! are free!
And through the fortunate Saturnian land,
Into the darkness of the West.


But if This Gadfly should drive Iona hither

PURGANAx. Gods! what an if? but there is my grey RAt; So thin with want, he can crawl in and out Of any narrow chink and filthy hole, And he shall creep into her dressing-room, And—

MAMMON. My dear friend, where are your wits? as if She does not always toast a piece of cheese, And bait the trap ; and rats, when lean enough To crawl through such chinks —

But my LEEch—a leech

Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings,
Capaciously expatiative, which make
His little body like a red balloon,
As full of blood as that of hydrogen,
Sucked from men's hearts; insatiably he sucks
And clings and pulls—a horse-leech, whose deep maw
The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,
And who, till full, will cling for ever.

MAMMON. This For Queen Iona might suffice, and less; But 'tis the swinish multitude I fear, And in that fear I have

Done what?


Disinherited My eldest son Chrysaor, because he Attended public meetings, and would always Stand prating there of commerce, public faith, Economy, and unadulterate coin, And other topics, ultra-radical; And have entailed my estate, called the Fool's


And funds, in fairy-money, bonds, and bills,
Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina,
And married her to the Gallows."

* “If one should marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone.”—Cymbelin E.

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LEECH. I will suck Blood or muck The disease of the state is a plethory, Who so fit to reduce it as I ? RAt. I'll slily seize and Let blood from her weasand,Creeping through crevice, and chink, and cranny, With my snaky tail, and my sides so scranny.


Aroint ye thou unprofitable worm

- [To the Leech.

And thou, dull beetle, get thee back to hell
[To the GADFly.

To sting the ghosts of Babylonian kings,

And the ox-headed Io.

swine (within). Ugh, ugh, ugh Hail! Iona the divine, We will be no longer swine, But bulls with horns and dewlaps.


For, You know, my lord, the Minotaur—

PURGANAx (fiercely). Be silent I get to hell or I will call The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon, This is a pretty business [Erit the RAT.


I will go | And spell some scheme to make it ugly then. [Erit.

SW hellfoot.
She is returned Taurina is in Thebes

When Swellfoot wishes that she were in hell
Oh, Hymen clothed in yellow jealousy,
And waving o'er the couch of wedded kings
The torch of Discord with its fiery hair;
This is thy work, thou patron saint of queens !
Swellfoot is wived though parted by the sea,
The very name of wife had conjugal rights;
Her cursed image ate, drank, slept oi me,
And in the arms of Adiposa oft
Her memory has received a husband's—

[A loud tumult, and cries of “Iona for ever !—No
Swell foot ' "

Enter Swell Foot.

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Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,
And their young boars white and red rags, and tails
Of cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowers
Between the ears of the old ones; and when
They are persuaded, that by the inherent virtue
Of these things, they are all imperial pigs,
Good Lord : they'd rip each other's bellies up,
Not to say help us in destroying her.

sW. Ellroot. This plan might be tried too ;-where's General Laoctonos ?

Enter LAoctoxos and DARRY. It is my royal pleasure That you, Lord General, bring the head and body, If separate it would please me better, hither Of Queen Iona.

That pleasure I well knew,

And made a charge with those battalions bold,
Called, from their dress and grin, the royal apes,
Upon the swine, who in a hollow square
Enclosed her, and received the first attack
Like so many rhinoceroses, and then
Retreating in good order, with bare tusks
And wrinkled snouts presented to the foe,
Bore her in triumph to the public sty.
What is still worse, some sows upon the ground
Have given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin,
And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry,
“Long live Iona down with Swellfoot

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I Went to the garret of the swineherd's tower, Which overlooks the sty, and made a long Harangue (all words) to the assembled swine, Of delicacy, mercy, judgment, law, Morals, and precedents, and purity, Adultery, destitution, and divorce, Piety, faith, and state necessity, And how I loved the queen —and then I wept, With the pathos of my own eloquence, And every tear turned to a mill-stone, which Brained many a gaping pig, and there was made A slough of blood and brains upon the place, Greased with the pounded bacon; round and round The millstones rolled, ploughing the pavement up, And hurling sucking pigs into the air, With dust and stones.

Enter MAMMos.'


I wonder that grey wizards Like you should be so beardless in their schemes; It had been but a point of policy To keep Iona and the swine apart. Divide and rule ! but ye have made a junction Between two parties who will govern you, But for my art.—Behold this BAG ! it is The poison BAG of that Green Spider huge, On which our spies skulked in ovation through The streets of Thebes, when they were paved with

dead :

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