Soft martial music is heard off; the lights change, presaging something momentous. THE DRONE resumes his honeyed doze. Alone, the queen of all the bees enters. For glitter and majesty she must exceed even Meriel Moore as the courtesan in ‘Jack-in-the-Box’.11 THE QUEEN must be a superlatively erotic job.
QUEEN What! More dead bees! (She is horrified.) Aoh! Am I left alone … with no bee at all … after ignoring two million of them … for years and years …?
DRONE (Stirring in his sleep)
Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?12
QUEEN What! Is this alive? How dare you? (She approaches and examines the sleeping DRONE; her disgust is tempered by the fact that after all he is alive and a male.) Aoh.
DRONE (Asleep) I prithee, go to.13
QUEEN Aoh, the nasty old man!
DRONE (Asleep)
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But, when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood;
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galléd rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base
Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height!14
QUEEN Aoh!
DRONE Let us seek some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty.15
QUEEN (Incensed) The wretch is drunk with honey! Of all the nerve! How dare the wretch treat his Queen like this — the only female bee in the whole country! How dare he!
DRONE Like the Pontick sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont;
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to humble love,
Till that capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up.16
QUEEN (Rushing over and shaking him) You miserable sot! How dare you mumble your drunken rubbish in the presence of your Queen! HOW DARE YOU! Wake up! Do you hear me? WAKE UP! I command you to wake up, you drunken scoundrel. I am the Queen! THE QUEEN!
DRONE (Only half-waking)
This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart,
Hot, hot, and moist! This hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
Much castigation, exercise devout …17
QUEEN Wake up! Do you hear me? I command you — WAKE UP! You are the last living bee and I command you to marry me! Do you hear? I COMMAND YOU TO MARRY ME!
DRONE Where, where, where?
QUEEN (Pointing up) Up there, eight hundred thousand feet up — you know very well where. WAKE UP, you miserable sot! Do you want the race to die out, you cynical nincompoop? WAKE UP!
DRONE (Half-awake) Stay, my pet,
And let your reason with your choler question
What ’tis you go about. To climb steep hills
Requires slow pace at first: anger is like
A full-hot horse, who being allow’d his way,
Self-mettle tires him.18
QUEEN (Mad) Do you refuse? You disobey me? You disobey your Queen’s command? YOU REFUSE TO MARRY ME, YOU TREASONABLE SCOUNDREL! (She cries hysterically.) O, you awful, awful, lazy, useless, wretched scoundrel, you refuse to marry me, reject my royal love! O—! (She breaks down.)
DRONE Be advised;
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do singe yourself: we may outrun
By violent swiftness, that which we run at
And lose by over-running. Know you not,
The fire that mounts the liquor till ‘t run o’er,
In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised:
I say again, there is no beeish soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay, the fire of passion.19
QUEEN O that dreadful … unctuous … oily … wretched … treasonable … useless … dirty … impossible … bore! (She rushes about the stage in frenzy.) I’ll kill myself, I’LL KILL MYSELF. (She screams.) Do you hear me, I’ll kill myself. (She catches sight of the sleeping TRAMP in foreground.) I’ll sting something and kill myself. I’ll die, I’ll sting this and die! (She stings the TRAMP, who starts up with a cry; then she dies after a brief and noisy paroxysm.)
TRAMP What the bloody hell was that? Bees, begob. (He examines himself gingerly.) Begob this place is alive with them divils, I believe wan of them’s after stingin’ me, pumpin’ dirt and poison into me arum. Sure I told yeh — I TOLD YEH there’s a bloody nest of them here. Where’s me bottle? (He finds it and takes a suck.) A little drop on the sting and I was right. But where is the sting? (He notices the dead QUEEN and stands up to peer over at her.) Holy God, a bee as big as a greyhound. Begob the eyes is goin’ — that or me oul’ head! What’s goin’ on in this place at all? (Enter BASIL) Holy God, look at your man!
BASIL (To DRONE) Hallao! What have we here? The Queen, by Jove! (He examines her.)
TRAMP I never seen bees that size before.
(BASIL approaches DRONE.)
BASIL The Queen, my lord, is dead.
DRONE (Half-asleep) She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.20 (He falls asleep completely.)
TRAMP Begob I AM stung. I am stung! I can feel it now. It’s here in the middle of me arum; Wan of them dirty bees has got me! (His voice becomes steely with menace.) If I could lay me hands on the bee that done that … do you know what I’m goin’ to tell yeh, if I could lay me two hands on the bee that done that, I’d ——
CURTAIN
Notes
1 This castle … senses: Macbeth 1.6.1–3, spoken by Duncan as he enters Macbeth’s castle.
2 What early tongue … distemperature: Romeo and Juliet 2.3.32–40. Friar Lawrence rebukes Romeo for visiting him so early.
3 eight hundred thousand feet: some species of bees do have queens who mate on a nuptial flight, but considerably closer to the ground. I am grateful to my colleague, Prof. Stephen Welter, for assistance with Myles’s erratic entomology.
4 little tickets: presumably coupons for the Irish Sweepstakes.
5 ‘O Death, where is thy sting’: 1 Corinthians 15.55.
6 Foul whisperings … their secrets: Macbeth 5.1. 79–80. The Doctor, after observing Lady Macbeth’s sleep-walking scene.
7 This is the state … he falls: King Henry VIII 3.2. 352–8. Commencing ‘This is the state of man,’ the speech is Wolsey’s meditation on his downfall.
8 If I am … go through: Henry VIII 1.2. 71-6. Wolsey again, defending the taxes he has levied, when Queen Katherine tells the King they have angered the people.
9 Things done well … not any: Henry VIII 1.2. 88–92. King Henry rebuking Wolsey and ordering him to lower the tax.
10 What should this mean? … see them more: Henry VIII 3.2. 204–09;
223–8. Wolsey, as he begins to realize that the King knows of his secret dealings and the fortune he has amassed. Myles substitutes They for He (205) and bee for man (226).
11 Meriel Moore … ‘Jack-in-the-Box’: Jack-in-the-Box, the Gate Theatre’s 1942 Christmas entertainment, included Myles’s Thirst and Oscar Wilde’s ‘fragment,’ La Sainte courtisane, or, The Woman Covered with Jewels (written in 1894–5), in which Meriel Moore played the gaudily seductive Myrrhina.
12 Who’s there … meditations: Henry VIII 2.2. 64–5. King Henry, angry at being interrupted while brooding over his plans to divorce Queen Katherine.
13 I prithee, go to: Shakespearean phrases, but from no specific play. Please, leave me alone.
14 In peace there’s nothing … full height!: Henry V 3.1. 3–17. King Henry urging his men on at Harfleur; the speech begins with the famous, ‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends …’
15 Let us seek … empty: Macbeth 4.3.1–2. Malcolm to Macduff, in their English exile. Uncharacteristically, the Drone has misquoted slightly: ‘seek out some desolate shade.’
16 Like the Pontick sea … swallow them up: Othello 3.3. 453–460. Othello, reacting to Iago’s insinuations about Desdemona and Cassio.
17 This argues fruitfulness … exercise devout: Othello 3.4. 38–41. Othello to Desdemona, suspicious because her palm is sweaty.
18 Stay, my pet … tires him: Henry VIII 1.1. 129–34. Norfolk, who begins, ‘Stay, my lord,’ urging Buckingham to behave prudently.
19 Be advised … fire of passion: Henry VIII 1.1. 139–49. Norfolk, continuing his good advice.
20 The Queen, my lord, is dead … Signifying nothing: Macbeth 5.5. 16–28. Myles neatly appropriates Seyton’s announcement of Lady Macbeth’s death, and Macbeth’s ensuing meditation.
ACT II
The scene is a sandy hillock with stray stones, holes, patches of coarse grass; to the right and left of the stage are boulders, in between which characters appear or disappear on entering or leaving. Amid the boulders to the left, on somewhat of an eminence, is the nest of The Hen, a dark cave-like dwelling from which bits of straw and sticks protrude; it is not possible to see whether the nest is occupied or not. The TRAMP is lying asleep in the right foreground, unlighted.
As the curtain goes up, there are confused sounds of chirping and clucking from the nest and immediately a large EGG forces itself or is forced to the edge of the nest. It topples over and rolls down on to the stage, where it is seen that a large lump has fallen out of it. It has scarcely come to rest when a beetle rushes in and tries to roll it off; immediately another rushes in to dispute the prize and they quarrel noisily over it with harsh cries. A third beetle rushes in and joins in the fray. In the middle of it, the EGG cries out in a very high shrill voice:
EGG I’m being born! I’m being born! Three cheers, hip hip — hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
The beetles scurry back somewhat, curious and a bit frightened: the TRAMP, who has been half asleep, raises his head.
TRAMP Pardin? I beg your pardin …?
EGG I am being born. The great moment is at hand.
The whole world is bursting into blossom!
The beetles have approached the TRAMP after hearing him talk; they regard him curiously from a distance for an instant and then scurry off the stage in alarm.
TRAMP Yer been born? (Then very doubtfully) I see.
EGG I’m in the middle of me crisis. I’m threatened with existence. Light is beginning to breed in me eyes. I’m being born!
TRAMP Sure that has to happen to us all, I done the same thing meself single-handed years ago. Years ago man.
He settles down again and there is a pause; from outside is heard the sound of two beetles talking querulously; they enter – MR and MRS BEETLE, rolling a huge ball of dirt.
MR BEETLE (In an appalling Dublin accent, apparently even flatter than the TRAMP’s) Here we are now, O.K., everything’s game ball.
MRS BEETLE (In a similar accent) Do you know, the sweat is drippin’ out of me. Drippin’ out of me it is.
MR BEETLE An’ isn’t it worth puttin’ yourself into a lather for — a pile of stuff that cost us the grey hairs of a lifetime to put together? I’m steamin’ meself and I’m only sorry it’s not heavier to make me steam more. (Rapturously) Ah begob it’s lovely. It’s very … very … adjacent.
MRS BEETLE Our gorgeous pile, our lovely savins.
MR BEETLE The savins of a bloody lifetime.
MRS BEETLE It’s what they do call capital in the bew-uks.1
MR BEETLE (Turning to address her impressively) Do you know what I’m goin to tell you. Do you see that ball?
MRS BEETLE (Abstractedly) Our gorgeous … lovely … big … gorgeous pile of savins and capital.
MR BEETLE Now that pile of stuff there cost me a lifetime of workin’ and slavin’ … and overtime … and danger-money … and time-and-a-half … and Sahurda-work2 … and night-work … and piece-work … and all classes of work that isn’t known be anny particular name. Do you know that?
MRS BEETLE Sure don’t be talkin’, there’s nothin’ like the capital. It’s lovely — I wouldn’t be without a life’s savins for all the money in the world.
MR BEETLE Sure luckit. I seen meself wan June fourteen shifts on top of one another without a wink of slape or a bite in me mouth to kill the starvation — just to get a little bit more on to the pile. Begob I did and manys the time.
MRS BEETLE Ah certainly, certainly. An’ look how gorgeous an’ big it is now.
MR BEETLE It grew … an’ it grew … an’ it grew.
MRS BEETLE An’ it’s ours — ours only. It’s our big ball of savins and nobody else owns anny of it.
MR BEETLE I’m bloody sure it’s ours.
MRS BEETLE Our lovely gorgeous capital.
MR BEETLE Too bloody true it’s ours.
MRS BEETLE It’s gorgeous. Sure is it anny wonder some beetles do be selling their bodies to other beetles that does have a big pile like this?
MR BEETLE No beetle could make a ball like mine at that game. Sure look at the size of it.
MRS BEETLE An’ it’s all ours, our gorgeous savins, the nest egg for our ould age.
MR BEETLE Smell it, woman, lick it, taste it! It’s ours!
EGG (Screaming shrilly) I’m being born! Born, do you hear me! Everything’s waking, and quaking, and shaking. I’m expected at every minute, I’m nearly here. Hurray!
MR BEETLE (Still preoccupied with ball) It’s very … adjacent … having a bit of capital, d’ye understand me. It’s very … ad-mire-able.
MRS BEETLE I’m as happy as Larry at the present time, there’s nothing more to wish for.
MR BEETLE O steady there now, me gerl, I wouldn’t say that. We have wan. Couldn’t we have two?
MRS BEETLE Two! What for?
MR BEETLE Isn’t two better than wan? Or even three. What’s wrong with three?
MRS BEETLE Begob I always knew you had a head on you. Two piles! Three! I never thought of that. TWO big piles, all our very own!
MR BEETLE Luckit. I’ll tell you what. The right game for us is to hide this one and then go off and make another. Do you see?
MRS BEETLE Hide it? Yes, hide it is right. We’d better hide it right away. Ey, supposin’ somebody was to lift it on us …?
MR BEETLE Lift our little pile? O begob then you won’t find me leavin’ it lyin’ around to be whipped be some bloody scoundrel. We’ll find a hole and bury it.
MRS BEETLE Yer right, I’d die if annybody lifted our gorgeous pile. Where are we goin’ to hide it?
MR BEETLE We’ll invest it, put it away, store it, bury it, d’ye understand, put in into a nice deep hole. You stay here and don’t take your eyes off it. I’m off to find a nice hole.
MRS BEETLE O, I hope it’ll be safe, our hard-earned lovely capital. Where are you goin’ now?
MR BEETLE To look for a nice dark hole that nobody else knows about. I’ll be back in a tick. Mind the pile now, don’t take yer eyes off it. (Ex
it)
MRS BEETLE Ay, here, come back, don’t leave me alone. Ah, begob, the bugger’s gone. Sure there’s a nice dark hole up there. It looks all right to me. Wait now till I have a decko.3 Wait till I have a peep now. What we want is a very dark … sacred … sanitary … quiet hole, wan that nobody knows annything about …
Her voice trails off as she makes her way up to the nest and disappears into it. Enter a STRANGE BEETLE.
STRANGE BEETLE (Jauntily) O here’s me chance, the very thing the doctor ordered. There’s nobody here. We take it like this … and we roll it away. (Begins to roll it off.)
TRAMP (Starting up) Ay, listen here, mind where yer goin!
STRANGE BEETLE Take yer feet out of me way.
EGG To be born — to live — to get into the bright blue world! I’m coming, I’m nearly here!
TRAMP What sort of dirty muck is that yer shovin’ around?
STRANGE BEETLE That’s me capital, me pile, everything I have. That’s me savins, d’ye understand.
TRAMP Yer savins? I see. Well there’s a bloody awful hum4 off yer savins then.
STRANGE BEETLE (Offended in a very genteel way) I beg yer pardin?
TRAMP There’s a fierce smell offa that ball.
STRANGE BEETLE Who ever heard of a smell being off a life’s savins. Sure all this stuff is me capital. It’s grand stuff, I’m a happy man, it does me heart good to feel it and see it …
Exit rolling the ball. MRS BEETLE emerges from nest, fussing.
MRS BEETLE There’s somebody livin’ there, that wouldn’t do at all. AY! Where is it? Where’s the pile? WHERE’S THE CAPITAL GONE?
TRAMP Yer man took it.
MRS BEETLE (Rushing at him) Thief, thief! Where is it, give it to me before I call me husband!
TRAMP Now fair enough, take it easy. I’m tellin’ you where it is. Yer man took it.
MRS BEETLE Who, who? Where is it?
TRAMP Yer man that’s after walkin’ out there, a dark fat round fella with a bit of a belly on him.
MRS BEETLE Do you mean me husband?
TRAMP An ugly lookin’ customer with crooked feet.
MRS BEETLE That’s me husband all right, he must have found his hole. Where is the bloody fool gone to?
Rhapsody in Stephen's Green/The Insect Play Page 5