Read The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 59


  The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,

  And who, till full, will cling for ever.

  Mammon. This

  For Queen Iona would suffice, and less;

  But ’tis the Swinish multitude I fear,

  And in that fear I have—–

  Purganax. Done what?

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  Mammon. Disinherited

  My eldest son Chrysaor, because he

  Attended public meetings, and would always

  Stand prating there of commerce, public faith,

  Economy, and unadulterate coin,

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  And other topics, ultra-radical;

  And have entailed my estate, called the Fool’s Paradise,

  And funds in fairy-money, bonds, and bills,

  Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina,

  And married her to the gallows.4

  Purganax. A good match!

  Mammon. A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroom

  Is of a very ancient family,

  Of Hounslow Heath, Tyburn, and the New Drop,

  And has great influence in both Houses;—oh!

  He makes the fondest husband; nay, too fond,—

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  New-married people should not kiss in public;

  But the poor souls love one another so!

  And then my little grandchildren, the gibbets,

  Promising children as you ever saw,—

  The young playing at hanging, the elder learning

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  How to hold radicals. They are well taught too,

  For every gibbet says its catechism

  And reads a select chapter in the Bible

  Before it goes to play.

  [A most tremendous humming is heard.

  Purganax. Ha! what do I hear?

  Enter the GADFLY.

  Mammon. Your Gadfly, as it seems, is tired of gadding.

  Gadfly.

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  Hum! hum! hum!

  From the lakes of the Alps, and the cold gray scalps

  Of the mountains, I come!

  Hum! hum! hum!

  From Morocco and Fez, and the high palaces

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  Of golden Byzantium;

  From the temples divine of old Palestine,

  From Athens and Rome,

  With a ha! and a hum!

  I come! I come!

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  All inn-doors and windows

  Were open to me:

  I saw all that sin does,

  Which lamps hardly see

  That burn in the night by the curtained bed,—

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  The impudent lamps! for they blushed not red,

  Dinging and singing,

  From slumber I rung her,

  Loud as the clank of an ironmonger;

  Hum! hum! hum!

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  Far, far, far!

  With the trump of my lips, and the sting at my hips,

  I drove her—afar!

  Far, far, far!

  From city to city, abandoned of pity,

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  A ship without needle or star;—

  Homeless she passed, like a cloud on the blast,

  Seeking peace, finding war;—

  She is here in her car,

  From afar, and afar;—

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  Hum! hum!

  I have stung her and wrung her,

  The venom is working;—

  And if you had hung her

  With canting and quirking,

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  She could not be deader than she will be soon;—

  I have driven her close to you, under the moon,

  Night and day, hum! hum! ha!

  I have hummed her and drummed her

  From place to place, till at last I have dumbed her,

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  Hum! hum! hum!

  Enter the LEECH and the RAT.

  Leech.

  I will suck

  Blood or muck!

  The disease of the state is a plethory,

  Who so fit to reduce it as I?

  Rat.

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  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.

  Purganax.

  Aroint ye! thou unprofitable worm!

  [To the LEECH.

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  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.

  Rat.

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  For,

  You know, my lord, the Minotaur—–

  Purganax (fiercely).

  Be silent! get to hell! or I will call

  The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon,

  This is a pretty business.

  [Exit the RAT.

  Mammon.

  I will go

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  And spell some scheme to make it ugly then.—

  [Exit.

  Enter SWELLFOOT.

  Swellfoot. 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

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  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 cursèd image ate, drank, slept with me,

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  And in the arms of Adiposa oft

  Her memory has received a husband’s—–

  [A loud tumult, and cries of ‘Iona for ever!—No Swellfoot!’ Hark!

  How the Swine cry Iona Taurina;

  I suffer the real presence; Purganax,

  Off with her head!

  Purganax. But I must first impanel

  A jury of the Pigs.

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  Swellfoot. Pack them then.

  Purganax. Or fattening some few in two separate sties,

  And giving them clean straw, tying some bits

  Of ribbon round their legs—giving their Sows

  Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,

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  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,

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  Good Lord! they’d rip each other’s bellies up,

  Not to say, help us in destroying her.

  Swellfoot. This plan might be tried too;—where’s General

  Laoctonos?

  Enter LAOCTONOS and DAKRY.

  It is my royal pleasure

  That you, Lord General, bring the head and body,

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  If separate it would please me better, hither

  Of Queen Iona.

  Laoctonos. 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

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  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.

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  What is still worse, some Sows upon the ground

  Hav
e given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin,

  And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry,

  ‘Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!’

  Purganax. Hark!

  The Swine (without). Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!

  Dakry. I

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  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, judgement, law,

  Morals, and precedents, and purity,

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  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

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  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 mill-stones rolled, ploughing the pavement up,

  And hurling Sucking-Pigs into the air,

  With dust and stones.—–

  Enter MAMMON.

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  Mammon. I wonder that gray 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

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  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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  A bane so much the deadlier fills it now

  As calumny is worse than death,—for here

  The Gadfly’s venom, fifty times distilled,

  Is mingled with the vomit of the Leech,

  In due proportion, and black ratsbane, which

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  That very Rat, who, like the Pontic tyrant,

  Nurtures himself on poison, dare not touch;—

  All is sealed up with the broad seal of Fraud,

  Who is the Devil’s Lord High Chancellor,

  And over it the Primate of all Hell

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  Murmured this pious baptism:—‘Be thou called

  The GREEN BAG; and this power and grace be thine:

  That thy contents, on whomsoever poured,

  Turn innocence to guilt, and gentlest looks

  To savage, foul, and fierce deformity.

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  Let all baptized by thy infernal dew

  Be called adulterer, drunkard, liar, wretch!

  No name left out which orthodoxy loves,

  Court Journal or legitimate Review!—

  Be they called tyrant, beast, fool, glutton, lover

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  Of other wives and husbands than their own—

  The heaviest sin on this side of the Alps!

  Wither they to a ghastly caricature

  Of what was human!—let not man or beast

  Behold their face with unaverted eyes!

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  Or hear their names with ears that tingle not

  With blood of indignation, rage, and shame!’—

  This is a perilous liquor;—good my Lords.—

  [SWELLFOOT approaches to touch the GREEN BAG.

  Beware! for God’s sake, beware!—if you should break

  The seal, and touch the fatal liquor—–

  Purganax. There,

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  Give it to me. I have been used to handle

  All sorts of poisons. His dread Majesty

  Only desires to see the colour of it.

  Mammon. Now, with a little common sense, my Lords,

  Only undoing all that has been done

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  (Yet so as it may seem we but confirm it),

  Our victory is assured. We must entice

  Her Majesty from the sty, and make the Pigs

  Believe that the contents of the GREEN BAG

  Are the true test of guilt or innocence.

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  And that, if she be guilty, ’twill transform her

  To manifest deformity like guilt.

  If innocent, she will become transfigured

  Into an angel, such as they say she is;

  And they will see her flying through the air,

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  So bright that she will dim the noonday sun;

  Showering down blessings in the shape of comfits.

  This, trust a priest, is just the sort of thing

  Swine will believe. I’ll wager you will see them

  Climbing upon the thatch of their low sties,

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  With pieces of smoked glass, to watch her sail

  Among the clouds, and some will hold the flaps

  Of one another’s ears between their teeth,

  To catch the coming hail of comfits in.

  You, Purganax, who have the gift o’ the gab,

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  Make them a solemn speech to this effect:

  I go to put in readiness the feast

  Kept to the honour of our goddess Famine,

  Where, for more glory, let the ceremony

  Take place of the uglification of the Queen.

  Dakry (to SWELLFOOT). I, as the keeper of your sacred conscience,

  Humbly remind your Majesty that the care

  Of your high office, as Man-milliner

  To red Bellona, should not be deferred.

  Purganax. All part, in happier plight to meet again.

  [Exeunt.

  END OF THE FIRST ACT.

  ACT II

  SCENE I.—The Public Sty. The BOARS in full Assembly.

  Enter PURGANAX.

  Purganax. Grant me your patience, Gentlemen and Boars,

  Ye, by whose patience under public burthens

  The glorious constitution of these sties

  Subsists, and shall subsist. The Lean-Pig rates

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  Grow with the growing populace of Swine,

  The taxes, that true source of Piggishness

  (How can I find a more appropriate term

  To include religion, morals, peace, and plenty,

  And all that fit Boeotia as a nation

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  To teach the other nations how to live?),

  Increase with Piggishness itself; and still

  Does the revenue, that great spring of all

  The patronage, and pensions, and by-payments,

  Which free-born Pigs regard with jealous eyes,

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  Diminish, till at length, by glorious steps,

  All the land’s produce will be merged in taxes,

  And the revenue will amount to—nothing!

  The failure of a foreign market for

  Sausages, bristles, and blood-puddings,

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  And such home manufactures, is but partial;

  And, that the population of the Pigs,

  Instead of hog-wash, has been fed on straw

  And water, is a fact which is—you know—

  That is—it is a state-necessity—

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  Temporary, of course. Those impious Pigs,

  Who, by frequent squeaks, have dared impugn

  The settled Swellfoot system, or to make

  Irreverent mockery of the genuflexions

  Inculcated by the arch-priest, have been whipped

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  Into a loyal and an orthodox whine.

  Things being in this happy state, the Queen

  Iona—–

  [A loud cry from the PIGS. ‘She is innocent! most innocent!’

  Purganax. That is the very thing that I was saying,

  Gentlemen Swine; the Queen Iona being
r />
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  Most innocent, no doubt, returns to Thebes,

  And the lean Sows and Boars collect about her,

  Wishing to make her think that WE believe

  (I mean those more substantial Pigs, who swill

  Rich hog-wash, while the others mouth damp straw)

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  That she is guilty; thus, the Lean-Pig faction

  Seeks to obtain that hog-wash, which has been

  Your immemorial right, and which I will

  Maintain you in to the last drop of—–

  A Boar (interrupting him). What

  Does any one accuse her of?

  Purganax. Why, no one

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  Makes any positive accusation;—but

  There were hints dropped, and so the privy wizards

  Conceived that it became them to advise

  His Majesty to investigate their truth;—

  Not for his own sake; he could be content

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  To let his wife play any pranks she pleased,

  If, by that suffrance, he could please the Pigs;

  But then he fears the morals of the Swine,

  The Sows especially, and what effect

  It might produce upon the purity and

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  Religion of the rising generation

  Of Sucking-Pigs, if it could be suspected

  That Queen Iona—–

  [A pause.

  First Boar. Well, go on; we long

  To hear what she can possibly have done.

  Purganax. Why, it is hinted, that a certain Bull—

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  Thus much is known:—the milk-white Bulls that feed

  Beside Clitumnus and the crystal lakes

  Of the Cisalpine mountains, in fresh dews

  Of lotus-grass and blossoming asphodel

  Sleeking their silken hair, and with sweet breath

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  Loading the morning winds until they faint

  With living fragrance, are so beautiful!—

  Well, I say nothing;—but Europa rode

  On such a one from Asia into Crete,

  And the enamoured sea grew calm beneath