Sanctimonious. “Worth it, Conception? Rather! Double! More! The peril threatened is of magnitude, And forty thousand is the minimum Which I would pay to see it rooted up. Just think what Disestablishment would mean, A mine of wealth let loose amongst the mob; Vergli would have that wealth distributed And sunk in his Co-operative scheme For giving every toiler a part share, According to his toil, of the State funds. His heathen propaganda would destroy Not only emoluments, but instal Amongst the public free-lance teaching, and Abolish that most necessary vice Called prostitution, which is the result Of both our civil and religious laws, The first safeguarding it as politic, The latter in accordance with the faith Held by our creed that Woman is that thing Which I’ve heard termed the ‘After-Birth of Man,’ But which I’d rather call God’s ‘After Thought,’ Or ‘Second Thought,’ creation from a rib! Man being fashioned in the shape of God, Is naturally the Superior Life, And Woman, but a bauble After Thought, Made for Man’s Comfort, and his Pleasure too, Is of no consequence, except as slave, As wife obedient, or as prostitute. And Vergli dares to say we preach a lie, And strives to waken Woman to the truth, Proclaiming her Man’s equal, shouting out She is not part of Man’s Almighty rib! Conception, just conceive the blasphemy! Conception, realize the rolling wave Of unbelief, which will o’erspread the land, Once Woman takes to heart that this is true. Great Scot! She’ll sweep us off our noble legs, She’ll cast the Saintly Rib into the fire, Cremate it on the instant without Shame, And dare to ask for Equal Rights with Man. What should we do? Alack! What should we do? Man’s infidelity we can despise, So long as Woman grovels in Belief, But if she cease the Stomach Crawling farce, We are undone! Alas! we are undone! And so, Conception, forty thousand crowns, Is not too much to pay to kill this snake, This awful offspring of the Satan myth, Which we invented to uphold the slur Cast on the Woman by our Holy Creed. No, at all costs, keep sight from Woman’s eyes, Once she obtains it, like a cataract Will fall on us her wild and angry wrath, Sweeping away the Fable of the past, Which we have held aloft six thousand years, Moulding from it our creed, our faith, our laws, And forcing Man to hail it as Divine.”
Conception. “True. Woman sleeps. She knows not of her pow’r, That pow’r which would make her a ‘Woman Free.’ And those who would awake her must be slain, For they are deadly enemies to us. Vergli is dangerous, and Isola As dangerous as he is, of a certain.”
Sanctimonious (contemptuously): “Oh! Isola, her teeth have all been drawn, She’s pining far away in Killareen. The outcast of our King, divorced from him, Denied access e’en to her little child, Prince Bernis, Prince of Scota, Hector’s heir. She is of no account, her name is dead, Bernia’s dishonoured Princess! in good sooth. She scorned me, bit at me, questioned my right To sit upon the freedom of her sex. I think I’ve taught her just a little lesson!”
Conception. “Your Graciousness is over-confident. Listen, but keep it secret from our King. The youth, upon whose head a price is set, Young Fortunatus, is this Isola. Ha! Ha! You start, turn pale, and look distressed, Small wonder, for you know Isola’s heart, You know it is undaunted, brave, and warm, A combination irresistible. She has concealed identity from all, Successfully hoodwinked the populace, And leads as Fortunatus the Unknown. It is my business to assist this blind, King Hector would not hang his Isola! He loves her, though she was so coy to him, Mourning for that Adonis, Escanior, Friend of her childhood and her budding years, And then her lover, love which she returned. King Hector would not harm her. As you know, In spite of long sojourn with Merani, Isola’s presence fascinated him, Double her age. He might have been her sire, She held him an admirer, ne’er-the-less, Although his love repelled her. Escanior Being the only idol she adored. So ‘Mum’s’ the word, your Graciousness. Keep dark That Fortunatus is fair Isola. The former is the hangman’s property, The latter still the King’s heart’s property, He’d rather cast his crown into the sea Than sign a Warrant sanctioning her death.”
Sanctimonious. “Fear not, Conception, I will not betray, The secret you so wisely would conserve. So you defy me still, young Isola, You still make sport of Sanctimonious? Well, well, I bide my time. ’Tis drawing near. Dulcet will be the gift it brings. Revenge!”
Conception. “Your Graciousness. Judath awaits outside, Would just a word with him enamour you? May be that you would like to see this pearl, Offer him counsel, or give silent hint By eye glance, that success is your desire. Judath hath keen perception, he can read The outward and the inner face of man. Convey to him occultly the desire, Irradiating this veiled feature. He, Judath, the prince of traitors, Peerer true, Schemer, Informer, Genius masterful, Will paint your wish upon his inner face, And keep that face ever before his eyes. Is it your pleasure that I call him in?”
Sanctimonious. “It is indeed. Call him, Conception, pray.”
Enter Judath. (He bows low): “Humble obeisence! Your Graciousness.”
Conception. “Judath, you are commended. The Ardrigh Knows of your mission. He bids you succeed. You know the saying well, that ‘gold makes gold,’ Now take in the suggestion. Look at him. His glance alone will satisfy your soul.”
Sanctimonious (aside): “God! What a hunger lurks within his eyes, It has the aspect of the famished wolf, ’Tis a dread Tyrant, this consuming thirst, This human lust for Gold; Entrancing Gold! The need of it makes criminals. Its pow’r Commands the Adoration of the World, Its influence is paramount. Its sway Absolute and undisputed even.” (To Judath, suggestively): “Yes, ‘Gold makes gold,’ assuredly my man. The Man who earns some forty thousand crowns, Is surely likely to make one fourth more. A grandee such as forty thousand is, Will certainly not lack attendant kin.” (Looking at him meaningly) “Ten thousand is A comely bride for forty thousand crowns.”