Scene – The ruins of the the Temple of the Gods, on summit of Mount Olympus. Picturesque shattered columns, overgrown with ivy, etc. R. and L. with entrances to temple (ruined) R. Fallen columns on the stage. Three broken pillars 2 R.E. At the back of stage is the approach from the summit of the mountain. This should be "practicable" to enable large numbers of people to ascend and descend. In the distance are the summits of adjacent mountains. At first all this is concealed by a thick fog, which clears presently. Enter (through fog) Chorus of Stars coming off duty as fatigued with their night's work.
CHO.
SOLO.
During chorus, enter Diana, an elderly goddess. She is carefully wrapped up in cloaks, shawls, etc. A hood is over her head, a respirator in her mouth, and galoshes on her feet. During the chorus, she takes these things off and discovers herself dressed in the usual costume of the Lunar Diana, the goddess of the moon.
DIA. (shuddering) Ugh. How cold the nights are. I don't know how it is, but I seem to feel the night air a good deal more than I used to. But it is time for the sun to be rising. (Calls) Apollo.
AP. (within) Hollo.
DIA. I've come off duty – it's time for you to be getting up.
Enter Apollo. He is an elderly "buck" with an air of assumed juvenility and is dressed in dressing gown and smoking cap.
AP. (yawning) I shan't go out to-day. I was out yesterday and the day before and I want a little rest. I don't know how it is, but I seem to feel my work a great deal more than I used to.
DIA. I am sure these short days can't hurt you. Why, you don't rise 'til six and you're in bed again by five; you should have a turn at my work and see how you like that – out all night!
AP. My dear sister, I don't envy you – though I remember when I did – but that was when I was a younger sun. I don't think I'm quite well. Perhaps a little change of air will do me good. I've a mind to show myself in London this winter; they'll be very glad to see me. No! I shan't go out today. I shall send them this fine, thick wholesome fog and they won't miss me. It's the best substitute for a blazing sun – and like most substitutes, nothing at all like the real thing. (To fog) Be off with you.
Fog clears away and discovers the scene described. Hurried Music. Mercury shoots up from behind precipice at back of stage. He carries several parcels afterwards described. He sits down, very much fatigued.
MER. Home at last. A nice time I've had of it.
DIA. You young scamp – you've been out all night again. This is the third time you've been out this week.
MER. Well, you're a nice one to blow me up for that.
DIA. I can't help being out all night.
MER. And I can't help being down all night. The nature of Mercury requires that he should go down when the sun sets, and rise again when the sun rises.
DIA. And what have you been doing?
MER. Stealing on commission. There's a set of false teeth and a box of Life Pills for Jupiter – an invisible peruke and a bottle of hair dye – that's for Apollo – a respirator and a pair of galoshes – that's for Cupid – a full-bottomed chignon, some auricomous fluid, a box of pearl-powder, a pot of rouge, and a hare's foot – that's for Venus.
DIA. Stealing. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
MER. Oh, as the god of thieves I must do something to justify my position.
DIA. and AP. (contemptuously) Your position.
MER. Oh, I know it's nothing to boast of even on earth. Up here, it's simply contemptible. Now that you gods are too old for your work, you've made me the miserable drudge of Olympus – groom, valet, postman, butler, commissionaire, maid of all work, parish beadle, and original dustman.
AP. Your Christmas boxes ought to be something considerable.
MER. They ought to be, but they're not. I'm treated abominably. I make everybody and I'm nobody. I go everywhere and I'm nowhere. I do everything and I'm nothing. I've made thunder for Jupiter, odes for Apollo, battles for Mars, and love for Venus. I've married couples for Hymen and six weeks afterwards, I've divorced them for Cupid, and in return I get all the kicks while they pocket the halfpence. And in compensation for robbing me of the halfpence in question, what have they done for me?
AP. Why they've – ha! ha! they've made you the god of thieves.
MER. Very self-denying of them. There isn't one of them who hasn't a better claim to the distinction than I have.