Sunday, April 25, 2010

ACT THREE
Scene I. Nemaha, the Palace, at Breakfast.

[Enter Horatio, Eunomia, Raoul, servants and attendants.]
Eunomia. You look haggard. Nagging backache, husband,
Duke? I have these little pills that cure all ills.
You should take one.
Horatio. No physical ill racks me, Eunomia.
‘Tis mental anguish that suffers my sleep. 5
Eunomia. Speaking of anguish, who was that woman
that came to audience last evening?
Horatio. How did you know I had night visitors?
Eunomia. My usual ways.
Horatio. An old beggar woman and her daughters three. 10
Eunomia. My ways tell me she stayed for some time.
Horatio. I had trouble convincing her to go.
[to Raoul.]
Trouble brews with that witch. She had things
to say about my wife that I do not
find apropos here. 15
Eunomia. What ever, dear.
Raoul. I had trouble in sleep, myself. The clown,
that idiot Marcol, kept me awake
thinking of answers to his hideous
riddle. My brains be racked yet no reasoned 20
logic ever comes to my aid.
Horatio. Ah, yes. Thanks for reminding me. I was
going to dismiss that fool first thing this morn.
Fetch the clown.
Servant. Aye, my lord. 25
[Exit Servant.]
Raoul. But, brother, sir, before you toss him out
I beg to know the answer to his riddle.
I am insane for it. I am dream-walking,
headless and stripped.
Horatio. There is no answer for that fool. 30
[Enter Marcol, and servant.]
Servant. He was awaiting without the door.
Horatio. Impatient to be dismissed, eh Marcol?
Marcol. No, my lord. Impatient to get on with
my work.
Horatio. You do no work. I ask for but one good 35
reason to suffer not your dismissal.
Marcol. And so dismissed would the answer be to
the riddle that so maddens your brother.
Poor Raoul will not be so easily
dismissed from life’s wandering, 40
babbling supposed answers ‘til the
pigs fly.
Horatio. Raoul, you look worried.
Raoul. Headless pigs now flying through my daylight
reveries! Stay and make them go away. 45
Horatio. Yow, contagion madness reigns. Alright, clown,
keep your foolish job. I give up.
What has two arms, two legs, a neck, but has
no hands, no feet, nor head? And ‘tis not a
diamond, heart, club, nor spade yet is of more 50
value than all when playing at strip poker?
Marcol. A dramatic pause. I have no drums to roll.
Horatio. Out with it. Or heads will roll.
Raoul. Pig heads?
Horatio. Quiet, or you will miss the riddler’s answer. 55
Raoul. A joker, then! It’s a joker! Am I correct?
Marcol. A suit of clothes.
Horatio. Ugh.
Marcol. Well worn and well served. Quick to th’ exit I close.
Eunomia. Wait. Marcol has a point. 60
Horatio. What?
Eunomia. The shirt off your back would be a worthless bet.
And all the court is in a sorry state
as well. Blind justice need not be deaf to
fashion. New robes for all the wards, I say. 65
Marcol. So well measured, my lady! And I now know
exactly who should measure each squire, knave,
footman, guardian, and lord chamberlain.
Horatio. I knew it. Clowns are related by marriage to tailors.
Eunomia. He’s not married, dear. The court shall have a 70
wardrobe change. I decree it.
Horatio. Okay, okay. Yes, I suppose that these
thinning threads can be discarded.
Marcol. I must present to you a tailor by
birth a Russian. His name is well enough 75
known in the precinct of Peru.
Normalizovitch. And he has a young
daughter. Ah, sir, you should see this daughter.
Softer than the moonlight glistened over
new and silent snow. Gentler than the 80
the breeze that moves the kitchen curtain on
each bright and halcyon morning of summer.
A splendor, my lord. A galaxy of
bright jewels. A subject worthy for study
at court. And, fine miracle, her father 85
is a fine tailor, too.
Eunomia. I have knowledge of Normalizovitch.
He is fine. But I have not heard
of his daughter. I am troubled.
Beauty corrupts. Clothes cover. 90
I prefer cover.
Marcol. She is a dear child, Duchess. Bluesy, not
brassy. Brilliant without polish. A heart
of compassion. A soulful spirit.
An inner splendor more beautiful than 95
the outer.
Eunomia. There are few such souls in the world,
Marcol. Go and fetch your Russian and his
daughter. We will see if you can discern
true gems from glass. 100
[Enter Eduard and Constantine.]
Marcol. ‘Twill be done, my lady.
Eduard. What will be done?
Marcol. Sunshine on my dark shoulder.
[Exit Marcol.]
Constantine. How he can ramble on about nothing.
What’s for breakfast? 105
Eunomia. Toast and bacon, coffee and herbal tea.
Tell, me Constantine, do you think the Duke,
all of his court, are in need of new duds?
Constantine. I have no opinion on the matter,
my lady. What does the Duke believe? 110
Horatio. I believe I am being taken.
Eunomia. You and the court are being taken for
a much needed makeover.
Horatio. Whatever. The clown and his tailor will
be here by noon. And then one. And then two. 115
Argh. Excuse me to reflect on things not
dreamed. I must have some air.
[Exit Horatio.]
Constantine. He seems still troubled.
Eduard. Sleep did not cure his curious encounter.
Raoul. No one slept well. I count to six or more 120
the numbers of those who sought refuge in
the kitchen refrigerator after midnight.
Eduard. I am one such.
Constantine. And I.
Raoul. And Horatio. Marcol, myself, and... 125
Eunomia. I found no trouble slumbering. Except
for an occasional footstep down the hall.
Raoul. A great and mighty wonder no one
collided in the hall.
Constantine. I think I must. I ran into somebody. 130
Eduard. I did the same. Methinks it was the suit
of armor in the November Hall.
Eunomia. That must be why the gauntlet was lying
upon the floor this morning. Ah, well, I
think that I shall go and dress for the day. 135
and shake off the bitterness of this chamomile.
[Exeunt Eunomia and attendants.]
Raoul. And I will leave you to your breakfast. The
garden must need some attention of ours.
[Exeunt Raoul and servants.]
Eduard. I must do it, Constantine. My mind is
firmly positioned. To my father 140
I will flatly say, “Sir, I do not wish
to marry Praetoria. We have talked
this over and decided that friends should
not partners be. It would not be fruitful
any other way.” This is what I will say. 145
Constantine. What a mess this week has been.
[Enter Cleonastra.]
Eduard. A royal bummer. Never would I think
that two days could be so annoying.
Cleonastra. Are you done, my lords? Madame Eunomia
wishes to have the table cleared. 150
Eduard. One minute, good woman, while I finish
my juice. Come, Constantine, to the garden
we will go. While Uncle Raoul trims his
hedge, we will trim my father from his
matrimonial delusion. 155
[Exeunt Eduard and Constantine.]
Cleonastra. Oh, dear, I forgot to tell young Eduard
that his Ravenna cousins are come to
visit this afternoon. A mirthful pair.
Perhaps Aufenkamp and Aulterbach
may dispel the gloom that surrounds this house. 160
[Exit.]

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