A Voice. “No, noble Vergli! but the ferrets prowl And sniff around its entrance, seeking prey, The secret ‘peerers’ of our sharp Ardrigh Are searching for that which they may devour. Vergli’s ‘free lances,’ who are just the nuts Which Sanctimonious loves to gobble up, Having first pulverised to dust their shells. But every dog enjoys its day. We will Open his grace’s eyes, and make them stare When Vergli is returned to Parliament, And his most graciousness’s abject slave Is given the ‘good-bye’ by Stairway’s votes.”
Vergli. “How goes it, Scrutus? How now, Verita, Are you and he making good headway still? Shall we succeed this time? How go the funds? Low, I’m afraid? What no? Why do you smile And shake your head and laugh so pleasantly?”
Verita. “Because the silver lining of our cloud Is shining brightly. Stairway is aroused, And Isola has filled our purse with gold. She sent it secretly ‘for Vergli’s cause,’ But we know well it is Isola’s gift. That poor Isola, pining, as the lark Pines in its gilded cage, with eyes intent Upon the Heav’n its cagèd spirit craves.”
Vergli. “Isola, ah! yes, she is Vergli’s friend, The heart of that poor captive beats with love For all the disinherited of Erth, Be they of human or of brute creation, Knowing that All Creation has its rights, The dumb brute and the voluble human. From both of which the sanctimonious laws, Which rule Society, have filched their dues. Isola is in heart and deed a Queen, Not that gay puppet which man dresses up In tawdry garments trimmed with tinsel daubs, Pulling the strings which make the puppet dance The weird, fantastic jig his fancy loves, But what a monarch should be, a kind friend, The people’s Maypole, round which Joy is rife And laughter is not drowned in Suff’ring’s tears. Yet our false laws deny her human rights, Class her with the poor idiot whose dulled brain, Diseased by causes physical, is mute, And cannot use the right, which nature gives To all the human family of this erth, No matter of which sex its items are, That right to think, and speak, and fashion laws Demanded by Necessity. Progress Demands new laws, and busy evolution Will not be bound by antiquated thought, Whose crude ideas no longer satisfy The ever moving forces of Mankind. Yet Isola, proud Sanctimonious says, Has not the right to vote or represent, Or be that, which she is, a human being! Is she not—leastwise Sanctimonious says,— An offcast of the man, piece of his bone, That piece, a rib, filched by God from his side, Which he can pet, mal-use, treat as a thing Dependent on him, not of much account, Unless it be to pander to his wants Physical or Political, a slave. Bone of his bone? Ha! Ha! a splintered bone? Or stay! Perhaps the long sought missing link, The bone of that lost tail! I have it now; Oh! happy thought! Oh! Sanctimonious, What will you pay me for this missing link? No wonder we have searched for it in vain, Seeing your Deity made use of it To fashion her, to whom no doubt He said, ‘Woman, thou art indeed the tail of Man.’[[3]] A vast idea, is it not, Verita? Are you not fascinated by the thought? Just ponder it. Bone of his bone. Sublime! The missing link between the ape and man.”
Verita (laughing). “Oh! thought divine! Who dares to question now The wondrous evolutionary power Which fashions thought, and from an Embryo Will turn it into a discerning God. Haste Vergli! Haste! Give Scientists the clue, Oh! Physiologists, examine quick The rib made woman. Surely a mistake! A slip of pen, a literary ‘mot.’ If only you can reconcile that tale And get the rib to waive its ancient claims, And find in Woman’s bones a trace of that Most noble Relic of primeval man, Then you and Sanctimonious can embrace And stitch up all your little differences, Hold a most amicable, state Pow Wow, Issue a new and Authorised edition Of a revised and up-to-date religion, Smoking together fragrant Pipes of Peace. But Vergli, apart from joking, good news! Ay excellent the news I have received. Isola has assured your cause success By sending us the sinews that we lacked. I have no fear. Vergli, you’ll be returned, The Sanctimonious nominee o’erturned, Next Parliament will hail you an M.P.”
Vergli. “Verita, Scrutus, kindly comrades, thanks, For your brave work on my behalf. I swear To labour in your service to the last, Whether I represent you as M.P. Or lead you forward to fair Freedom’s goal, As King in deed and not alone in name. Take Vergli’s gratitude. He ne’er forgets. His aim will be to reign within your hearts, And reap his people’s love, faithful and true. And now, good morning to you, see the sun Is clasping in its rays those shamefaced clouds Which Night is beckoning, as off she flies, To leave to Day an equal spell of rule As she has held. We must not linger here, A sadder scene demands my presence now, So let us leave our burrow solitary, And go our diff’rent ways as silently As we came here. We disinheriteds Will bear in mind our motto and watchwords, ‘Forward’ to fight for ‘Liberty and Truth.’”
[3]. The doctrine of the formation of woman out of a man’s rib is one degrading to her, and calculated to foster the belief held by many men, that the wife is the husband’s property. Since my esteemed ancestress “The Rib” was made an institution she has been treated as a chattel.—Author.
SCENE III.
Glen Glory on the Firth of Glory.
A cottage overlooking the Firth, in the island of Scota. The cottage is covered with climbing roses and creepers, and flowers abound in rich profusion. The cottage nestles amidst stately trees, and grassy glades surround it, and in these glades rabbits and pheasants feed in perfect peace and security. In this woodland retreat every kind of bird finds a home, and their song gives glory to their joy and happiness. Here, too, the roe deer dwells amidst the bracken and the squirrel is permitted to revel in Life amongst the dark pines which rear aloft their spreading branches. A rippling burn runs through the whole Glen, making its way towards the sea, and its waters shelter the shy brown trout, who leads, as far as man is concerned, an undisturbed existence. Life is sacred in Glen Glory by order of its Mistress, Merani.