The King of Sunset Town A Tragedy in Three Acts. By Christopher Blankley Cast of Characters Busker King of Sunset Town Minstrel Pris Pomp Three Ladies of Court Two Ambassadors Various Courtiers & Servants Guards Scenes Note on scenes: Since this play is designed to be performed out of doors, there is little need to produce complicated sets. A simple change in furniture should be enough to indicate different locations. Victorian Street Throne Room Woods near Throne Room Field outside Town King's Quarters Act I Scene 1 The stage is set. Against a backdrop of a Victorian London street, the night sets behind the rooftops of a sprawling town. A night watchman's cry dies into silence as the Busker enters from stage right. The old man walks hunched over, propped up by his cane. Under his old twig like arm he carries a box of puppets and a makeshift stage. Busker: (To audience) Oh what a day what a day...I have never seen the streets of this great town, or the insides of my meager pockets, so empty in many a year. It's the people you know, don't seem to care anymore. Once I could hold a crowd of so many people that I remember a London street was blocked for a whole hour. Not a piece of traffic could have moved, from a scurrying mouse to a delivery cart; but that was a long time ago and the people now a days, don't care you know. Too busy with that redundant fast paced commerce and new fangled steam powered ships to care to stop an watch a poor busker eeke a living out of these well trodden streets. Just in to much of a hurry...(The old Busker moves to the front of the stage and sits on its edge.) You don't mind if I sit down do you? That's good. My legs bother me so much these days. Funny, I spent my life standing on them, here on these street corners, I always thought they would be the last things to go. But you look like an honest man, one destined for a future of merit, one not in so much of a hurry that he can't stop and trade a word with an old man; a Busker who has seen better days. Don't care anymore. Back then, when I set up my stage on the street corner and untangled my puppet's strings, the crowds would already be gathering, before I even started, you understand. They would stop on nothing more than the strength a whim. 'Course back then people weren't in such a perpetual hurry. They could wait for a few minutes for a man to prepare. Not like today: "Out of the way old man!" they say, or "I don't have time for such foolishness!" Bah, foolishness! You know young man, the Nineteenth Century is almost over. In a few years we will be in a whole new world. I ask you, how is England going to hold out against all the worries of the world if its very populace can't take the time to stop and watch the workings of a simple busker? I ask you, what is the world coming too? That is all that I want to know. A simple play is all that I present, a simple play to reflect a simple life. What need does man have for all his inventions and manners if he can't see the beauty and charm in simplicity? What need does man have for anything if he can't stop to pay his respects to a simple busker eeking out a living on these well trodden streets. And what of you? Yes you. Standing out here in the cold. Do you have better things to do this night than watch the play of an aging Busker? Of course you do, who doesn't seem to in this mad world? But sit a while, I beg you, and watch my show, what do you have to lose? Let me tell you a take in the dancing if these puppet strings; let me dance your worries across my tiny stage. Sit, and dream a while. The night is not too cold. Scene 2 Throne Room consisting of various garden chairs set up in a sunny meadow. Set at stage right there is a raised platform on which the King sits upon his throne. He sits dejected, his chin on his fist. Busker: (Moved to above) There was once, in a far off distant sunset town, a king that sat upon a wicker throne. Upon his cheerless brow sat his paper crown, pried from the innards of a cracker on Christmas day. It's drooping tips sagging with the weight of the years, and the troubles that rested upon his kingly mind. The King of Sunset Town ruled his vast idyllic Kingdom with thought and patience. Making wise decisions upon wisely gathered facts. When all was said and done, he was a fine king, and a noble king. Though for all his courage in the face of adversity, and all his diplomacy in the eyes if his enemies, The King of Sunset Town's eloquence died in the presence of one fair maiden. With his heart wrestling with her charms and beauty, his mind was rendered soft and his tongue a crippled organ. This troubled the King beyond all conception, for his regency seemed incomplete without the love of this one girl. (Enter Pris stage left.) Arh, the most fair Pris, wondering in her innocence and enchantment. Born to a lowly miller, her position assured her a life of harmonic simplicity. But unknown to all fate, the passions of one man would rob her of this simplicity, and this Kingdom of its peace. (Exit Busker.) The King notices Pris and raises from his throne. He turns to speak to her but cuts himself short as the other members of the court enter. Enter Courtiers stage left, they bow before the King then sit. 1st. Courtier: (The last to enter, he bows.) Your Majesty, I am honored to bring news from your Ambassadors to the Barony of the Glade. They send good word of the peace, and the general acceptance of your proposal. Upon the settling of a few minor points, your most faithful servants expect the treaty to be signed before the end of the month. King: This is most grand news, for both our Kingdom and the good Barony. Return to the negotiations, most faithful man, with word of my merriment and hopes for the future. Be quick now. (Exit 1st. Courtier stage left with a bow.) All now hear, and let the word ring out throughout my Kingdom: That foul war has ended, buried once again in its most pestilent grave. Let the word ring out, for happiness will once again reign in Sunset Town. (Cheers from the member of the court.) 2nd. Courtier: Your Royal Majesty. King: Aye my man. 2nd. Courtier: I bid you lend me your ear for a word, sire. King: Speak your tongue. Words that are not spoken are ideas lost for eternity. My ear is always yours. 2nd. Courtier: You humble me my Lord. But my word is concerning your business with the Gladers. King: Yes? Approvals or objections? 2nd. Courtier: Neither Nor your Majesty, no such thing was in my thoughts. I simply question, sire, if maybe the Gladers are abusing your most trusting nature. Take advantage of your most noble characteristic. King: My man, your lips move but my ears do not hear. There is a broken link in out chain of communication. 2nd. Courtier: I mean to say your Highness that the war has raged for a very long time. King: And? 2nd. Courtier: And the Gladers were renowned for their treachery- King: -treachery and treason most vile and offensive. Yes I fought in those battles too. I remember well. But I also remember bitter evil wearing a different face. The face of noble men at whose side I fought. Do you not remember? Men of casual manner and charming disposition; who, when I know them at home, were soft spoken and refined in their smile. But these same men, sent flailing onto the battlefield, released from within them such mighty beasts that the very day did quake to look upon them. I tell you: Powerful evil was worked by both sides in this long and bloody war. Evil is the Chancellor of the battle field my friend. Any man who walks upon it us destined to do its bidding. 2nd. Courtier: (Angrily) But your Majesty! King: (Raising) Yes? 2nd. Courtier: They're Glader's for God's sake! They're...They're...Animals! King: (Angrily) Narrow minded bigotry and foolish propaganda will not rule in this Kingdom. 2nd. Courtier: But- King: -Enough! That's the law round here! Storm out 2nd. Courtier stage left, followed by a few other courtiers. Enter Pomp stage left. Pomp: (Looking back over his shoulder off stage, then to audience.) Boy, did he look mad? Can't say that I'd like to meet him in a dark ally... Can't say I'd like to meet him in a light street... Hell, can't say I'd like to meet that guy at all. (Pomp walks across the stage.) These court types, no sense of humor, always taking things too seriously. I mean if you can't laugh at yourself who can you laugh at? The King, who has been watching Pomp walk across the stage, taps his foot impatiently. Pomp isn't watching where he is going and trips over the raise at the foot of the throne. The courtiers laugh, and Pomp shoots them a dirty look. King: (Annoyed) Pomp, you must be the single biggest asinine fool I have ever been cursed with in my service. Pomp: No sire, I do not think that is true. (Thinks) Have you not met your brother? King: Your brother works for me? Pomp: Yes sire. King: What does he do? Pomp: He's an asinine fool. King: (Pause) Pomp, you are a complete imbecile. Pomp: Thank you sire. King: That wasn't a compliment! Pomp: No sire, that was a declarative. King: (Tired) What do you want Pomp? Pomp: Well, a nice cheese sandwich would go down- King: (Yelling) -With me you fool! Pomp: (Taking the King's hand.) Alright, where are we going? King: (Calmly) What, do you, want, with me? Pomp: (Catching on) Oh, right. There is a wandering Minstrel at your door. He wished to know if he may earn his supper and a bed with a calming tune to please your ear. King: What does this Minstrel go by? Pomp: Well let's see: Two doors, one tapestry, one rather ugly statue, and that corridor full of columns. That'll get him to the door... King: What does the man call himself!? Pomp: The same thing we call him, I'm sure. King: (Throwing up his hands) I give up! Pomp: No don't sire, suicide is never the answer. King: Not on life, on you! Pomp: But if you commit me to suicide, then would it not be murder? King: Your impossible. Pomp: Only during winter. King: Arrrrrrrhhhhhhh!!!! Pomp: Oh, is that you motto too? King: Get out of my sight! Pomp: (Turns to leave, stops and turns back) Exactly how far can you see? The King picks up a heavy object and throws it at Pomp. Pomp leaves quickly, passing the Minstrel who is entering. Pomp: (To Minstrel) I'd be careful if I were you, his Majesty seems to be in a rotten mood. No telling what set him off. (Exit) Minstrel: (To the King) Your most Royal Highness. (Bows) King: (Returning to his throne) Speak Minstrel. Minstrel: In my wandering I have met many who have spoken well of your fine court. Many who suggested that if I happen this fine way, I should implore your Majesty to grant me asylum in its warmth awhile. King: Many? Minstrel: Aye it is true, far and wide you have a reputation for charity and good humor. King: Your tongue is honeyed fair Minstrel, but here in Sunset Town we weigh our men in deeds not words. I say simple: Can you play, wandering man. Minstrel: You doubt my skill sire? King: Never, I simply require (pause) proof of its existence. Play Minstrel. Minstrel: As to your Majesty's will. The Minstrel plays a merry tune, and sings to the effect of: Smile as the windows close Upon the embers of my heart. Touch lightly on the things That hold us, keep us apart. There is purity in the knowledge That you know the reasons why I'm crossing mighty seas to find you. Sailing under stormy sky. But hold off the truth a while Forgive my wandering sins. Nothing now will hold me back, Keep me from those winds. That fill my sail, As I drown and flail, On this Godless sea, That keeps you far from me. Will you tell me true Will I ever reach you, Or am I destined for Eternity To be stranded on this thoughtless sea. His ability and charm are evident. As he plays, he notices the beautiful Pris sitting among the ladies of court. The mutual attraction is evident. King: (claps) Bravo Minstrel. You are most accomplished in your trade. Minstrel: Your Majesty is far too flattering. My talents are but adequate. King: (To himself) As is your modesty. Minstrel: Excuse me you Majesty? King: You are welcome here in Sunset Town good Minstrel. Stay awhile and please my court with your fair tunes. Minstrel: I am most honored, and will stay by your grace. King: Then it is settled. I hope you stay is pleasant here. Minstrel: I'm sure it will be. (Glancing back at Pris with a smile.) King: Good day. Minstrel: Good day. Exit King and his attendants stage right, all other stage left, laughing and talking. Scene 3 A Wood somewhere near the Royal Court. Pomp enters stage left carrying the King's hunting clothes. Pomp: I ask you: What do I look like? Truly. A mule maybe? A draft horse? A pack animal? Since when did these four limbs become clothes pegs for his high and mightiness over there? "Fetch me my jacket Pomp! Fetch me my sword!" Yes sir! (Jumps to attention and give a silly salute) Right away sire! Running right to it your Majesty! Back in a wink of an eye your Travesty! Know my place does me, your Parody! Aye, and that's what he is alright. A Travesty, a Parody. I ask you: What makes this man king? What does he hold that I do not? I mean, its not like he has an extra arm sitting in the center of his chest. That would mark him different. No, all he has is a crown and a bad temper. Even I could get those. Why don't they make me King? I could do it. (Throwing the King's riding cloak over his shoulders and sitting down on a tree stump as if it were a throne.) (Regally) "All bow, for I am the King of Sunset Town... You there, yes you, why are you not on your knees? What? Who are you? The old King? Well, I don't think I remember you. What? You want your Kingdom back? Well, I'm in charge now. Guards, throw him out... No? You all want me to punish him? But what do I have to charge him with? Let's see... Arh, how about using his servant as a slave? Treating the most true and noble Pomp as a pack animal. Oh yes, a most heinous and vile crime. I find him guilty on all counts. Guards. Excommunicate him. What? Then execute him, what ever hurts more! That's the law round here 'couse I'M the King of Sunset Town. Now, what will be my first duty as King?" King: (From off stage) POMP! WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES! MOVE! Pomp, losing his kingly composure, falls off his tree stump. He quickly gathers up the King's clothes and runs off stage right. Pris and the Ladies of Court enter stage left. Pris: (Laughing) Oh, you're all exaggerating! 1st. Lady: Oh yes? And Miss. Knowitall would know better? Pris: Well at least I have some hold on reality. The other ladies look at each other and giggle. 2nd. Lady: Well then, tell us: Exactly how tall is he? Pris: (Looks at them all and smiles) He wasn't an inch over six two. Multiple groans from the Ladies. 3rd. Lady: Oh come now Pris, that's foolish. 1st. Lady: Yes dear, your telling up to keep our heads out of the clouds. 2nd. Lady: He topped seven feet of he topped an inch. Nods of approval. 3rd. Lady: (Swooning) And so good looking... Giggles. Pris: (Moving off up stage) Come now Ladies, your making this man out to be a David. He wasn't that good looking. I mean, he could hardly carry a tune. 2nd. Lady: (following) So you telling us you didn't find him the slightest bit appealing? Pris: Well... 1st. Lady: Well? Pris: (Biting her lip) I guess he isn't that bad looking. (Giggle from the Ladies) But he still can't play worth listening to. 3rd. Lady: Picky, picky. Our lady of the arts. Pris: Well, musical ability is important. All Ladies: Right! Exit all stage right in laughter. Scene 4 The Same. Enter King stage right dressed for the hunt. King: (Angrily) Fools, fools. I'm surrounded by fools. Why if that Pomp crosses me one more time I'm going to... to... to... (Collapsing into sadness) Oh how loud and brave the mighty king bellows. How full and corpulent my words are when my hands are slow and soft. How do I have the audacity to cry fool against another man? I the King of Sunset Town. How my weak and intruding bravado stains my nerve, and calls me fool to my own face. Stale and incongruent my methods are. The grand people of this noble town should topple me down and erect dear Pomp in my place. As comic and brainless as the man may be, at least he understands the fullness of action... He is no pale and prancing thought monger such as I. Oh the fond and fair Pris. How resolute and perfect she seems on my mind. The length and breadth of my passion. The very soul of my pain. Oh the fair and far Pris. So distant, so simple in her virgin ways. If you only know of me, your proud and forthright King. If you know how dark, how deep, how sordid my thoughts can be... But no. That is not the all and full. My lusty nature does dim and sorrow in the honest day of my affection. Impure thought does wax quick in the winds of true love. And that is the be all and end all. Such simple love, most true, most dear, most pure. And if I were not such a errant knave, if I were not such a cowardly king, if I were but half the man I have to be, then could I bestow you with the fullness of my affection. The could I chronicle in the pages of our days the completeness of my love... But I, I am a crippled man. A twisted gargoyle. A cracked seed. A broken cur mutilated beyond all recognition of humanity. How I am encrusted by a yellowing spirit that grabs my tongue and reddens my face when thrust into the presence of such a young and beautiful maid...How undeserving I am of you... But gaze upon me! The Noble King! Oh, the wars I've fought! The battles that I have won! The Kings and Councilors my eloquence has brought to their knees!.. The men that I rule, the court that I keep, the land of which I am sovereign.. Do all these mean nothing? Are they all smoke and flare? Is there not fire that burns in the soul of my resolution? Some real metal to be forged to a point. Arh! Horror! Vile pestilent fool! Godless beast of lowly whore! What a foul bitter... bitter sweet pill would end your mad raving. How far have we come towards an end?.. Here you are, spewing self-serving vomit, running your treadmill like a rat running for its dinner. Blind handicapped thought profit. That's all you'll ever be... But the power of action does justify the aimless inclination of thought. And thought turned to action is action turned to passion and passion turned to romance. Aye, with a strong will and a bright eye I can win my love. So I'll do it now, confront her suddenly and tell her the news. And as the words slip from my lips... so will my resolution slip from its seat, and this deed of most grand merit will fade and clamor like a babbling fool. So does my will always in the presence of perfection. No there is no conclusion to this affair until I alter my very soul. The coward is in me. If only courage were bought it bottles, then I would truly be king, over both my land and my heart... Enter Pomp stage left. Pomp: Correspondence from your delegate to the Barony sire. It has just arrived by messenger. The King takes the letter and waves Pomp away. Pomp exits stage left. King: News of the peace I do hope. But my mood is so melancholy I think not even the delivery of that great news could cheer me. Such problems do beset my brow. (The King sits and puts his chin on his fist. He stares at the letter until an idea strikes him.) A correspondence to deliver great news, a dispatch to inform me of the news, a memorandum mimicking my man's actual message. Hmm, how fond is this idea? Such a simple one, nothing not already done by a million others. But I think that it will serve my ideals well... But a moment, let me order my thoughts: I, this most silly and tongue tided fool, will jot down, for I have some little talent with the pen, the truth and testimony of my heart. But I will not at the letter's end reveal my name and title, instead I will take a nom de plum to keep me safe in anonymity. When produced I will let it be found by my most beautiful maiden, who upon reading will most surely be smitten. She will then begin to seek out the author, and after sufficient time and investigation will conclude that it is me. There I will plead my guilt and my love to an already enlightened audience. How, just maybe, my coward's brain will conquer itself and produce the nobleness of action. Then it is done. Pomp! Bring me paper, and bring me Pen! Pomp! Where is that man. Exit King stage left. Act II Scene 1 A field outside Sunset Town. Pris enters stage right carrying a basket of flowers. She is searching for more. After a few moments Pomp enters from stage left. He strolls happily, carrying a letter. Pomp: Greetings fair maiden. Is it not a fine day? Pris: Greetings foolish man. It is quite so. Pomp: Do you mock me Miss? Pris: No, most certainly not. I do but state fact. Pomp: (Pause) Arh, that it is a nice day? Pris: No, that you are a fool. Pomp: (Dejected) You do attack me unjustly maid, I do think it is quite a fine day. Pris: To be a maid or a fool? Pomp: Why on such a day as this, it is to be but one in the same. Pris: Do you imply that on such a day as today, a maid is likely to test her chastity? Pomp: More that on a day such as today a fool is not likely to do the testing. Pris: (Sitting on the edge of the stage) Truly. Then what makes his day any different from another? Pomp: That fools do bear written tidings of much greater follies. From jesters in a much larger game. Pris: And this will test my resolution? Pomp: Most assuredly. (Pomp begins to give Pris the letter, but pulls it away. Instead he takes her hand) Read not this letter, here can only fall heartache. What can this simple message bring but love and romance? Truly, what need do you have for them? Run away with me, and I will fill your days with comedy and laughter. Pris: Sweet Pomp, you know how much love I do hold for you in my heart, and how much I have cared for you ever since we where children. But (Taking Pomp by the lapel) if you do not cross my palm with that romantic communication I will quickly forgo all past affection, and personally feed you your own foot. Pomp: Well, if you put it that way. (Giving her the letter) But remember: Great romantics make terrible friends, sweet Pomp's friendship is here for always. (Exit stage left) Pris opens the letter and begins to read, after a few lines her face turns to elation and she jumps up, still reading. A few more lines cross her eyes and she twirls around in joy. Pris: Most wondrous! But let me start from the beginning once again. I do keep losing my place: To the most far away Pris: How to begin, How to calm the wind, That rattles and shakes my head. But mild and simple talk, Must through the storm so poke To tell you the truth of the day. Oh fair and far Pris How much I hope for your kiss, To keep me warm at night. How much I do hope For you to help me cope, With all my follies and my failings. But there you still are The distance is far to far, For me to cross on my own. Reach out to find me Take me to your ecstasy, End my days in this confinement. How much I do love You, sweet and charming dove, You are all that truly matter to me. Sweet Princess. With everlasting Love, The Coward. What to say? My tongue is speechless but heart soars above all words. Who is this hidden man, and why does he hide behind such a name? The Coward? It is a strange name to be taken by one who writes such a letter. But I suppose it is no matter. Who is he and why does he take this puzzling approach? Of all those I know, who would do such a beautiful thing? Oh Pomp, would you play with my emotions so? You are so sweet, but when all is said, I do not think you know the pen from the ink. Who else? All those boring courtiers. Oh God, no. But I should not worry, they would not know a couplet from a doublet if their lives depended on it. I think I am safe from their affections. No, there is only one man whose heart leads to such a poetic vein. How my heart leaps to it. But quick I must show this gem to the other ladies. How their jealousy will steam! Away this is a most noble of all days. (Exit stage right.) Scene 2 The same. Enter Pomp stage left. Life's a tricky business Wouldn't you all say. As night turns to darkness And lightness into day. See, we all do suffer As under foot we all get stomped, I am sure out there you flounder Just like poor old Pomp. I think it's quite definite, Nothing left to chance, That we are all but victims Of evil so enhanced. But don't think to hard upon it It really isn't worth the trouble. For our brains work far to slowly And on thoughts they often stumble. So close your ears to listening And do a little dance, For when my life does come to meaning To me it is but Pomp, and Circumstance. Pomp bows and begins to leave stage right. Enter King stage left. King: (Seeing Pomp and calling) Good Pomp! My most noble man. Pomp: I pray you sire, I think I am MY most noble man. King: As your soul does will it. But do tell me, what of the correspondence I bid you to deliver? Pomp: Most safely delivered my Lord. I did give it to the Miller. King: (Taking Pomp by the lapels) What! I said give it to the Miller's daughter you fool! Pomp: Daughter? King: Aye! The maid Pris, you... Pomp: But that is where I did deliver it my Lord. King: What? She is no miller! Pomp: Oh but I beg to differ sire, for she does defiantly grind my chaff. King: (With restraint.) Pomp, you are a complete and total moron. But what of Pris? Did she read upon the letter? Pomp: I know not sire. I did leave upon the letter's delivery. But the sweet maid did seem more interested in picking away flowers than plucking away words. King: (Disappointed) Well, may she pursue it at her pleasure. (The king begins to leave stage right.) Pomp: (To audience) I do think the hard carapace of our king is finally dented. I do see humanity leaking through the cracks. If nothing else, a better sense of humor. The King meets the Minstrel as he leaves, he tries to avoid him but the Minstrel engages him in conversation. Minstrel: Your Majesty, could I have a word? King: Most assuredly, any particular one? Minstrel: Aye, a word of direction. Your Majesty, I am in your debt for your kindness, but here I stand a gentlemen of leisure. King: This is bad? Minstrel: Only for my honor. Sir if you do not have a purpose I can fill at least give me a task to soften my guilt. King: Good Minstrel, your presence is all that we require here. Calm your guilt, for what I say is the law round here. Minstrel: (Bows) Your Majesty. King: (Grimaces) Good day. (Exit stage right.) Minstrel: (Noticing Pomp.) Ah, good sire, may I speak with you? Pomp: (Looking around for the `sir'.) Who? What? Me sir? Minstrel: Yes you sir? Pomp: (Grinning) Well this is a fine kettle of fish... Minstrel: Pardon me? Pomp: Fish, sir. Minstrel: Fish sir? Pomp: Yes, right down the middle sir. Minstrel: What, me sir? Pomp: That was my question in the beginning. Minstrel: (Thinks) Were we not on the subject of fish? Pomp: And chasms. Minstrel: But how? Pomp: Did you not say fissure? Minstrel: I said `Fish sir'. Pomp: Exactly. Minstrel: (Annoyed) Fish, sir, finned things. Pomp: Inn things? Minstrel: (Quickly) Skin things. Pomp: Sin brings? Minstrel: Nothing but trouble. Pomp: (Opening his mouth then realizing he has nothing to say.) You know something Minstrel, I think I could grow to like you. Minstrel: Thank you most kindly, but I don't know if that's an honor or a curse... Pomp: Trust me dear man, around here it is nothing less than a death sentence. But do not worry, you can rest comfortably in the knowledge that should the end come upon us, I will make sure yours is swift and painless. Minstrel: (Sarcastically) I am most grateful to you Pomp, that will most definitely keep me quiet as the night draws upon me. And let me assure you: When the danger comes, and the end is near, that I will be... as far away from you as my legs can carry me. Pomp: You are such a sweet talker, I think there is nothing that you wouldn't say to calm my sleep. Minstrel: It is a pleasure to serve you. Pomp: And it is a pleasure to have you serve me. Minstrel: But tell me, what is the name of that girl who wanders over there? (Points off stage right) Pomp: Oh that is the fair maid Pris. What interest do you have in her? Minstrel: Oh I was just curious... Pomp: Friendly curious, or FRIENDLY curious? Minstrel: Trust me dear sir, my intentions are completely honorable. Pomp: Humm, that's what I am afraid of. Minstrel: Here she come, I must away. Dear Pomp, until the end... Pomp: Most pleasant dreams... (Exit Minstrel stage left) I may see little from my lowly position in life but I do see trouble afoot. Enter Pris stage right. She walks towards Pomp slyly. Pris: (Pleasantly) Good day sweet Pomp. Pomp: Good day to maid. Pris: Is it not the most beautiful day? Pomp: As beautiful as any day I have ever seen. Pris: Truly it is... (Pregnant pause) Pomp, how long have you known me? Pomp: I could not say for sure, but I think it is about as long as you have known me. Pris: (With a shallow laugh) How apt. But seriously, have we not been friends for a time too long to mention? Pomp: Longer than my simple memory can comprehend. Pris: And in that time, has not a trust developed? Pomp: Most strongly. Pris: And is not that trust based in our mutual honesty and loving? Pomp: Most unconditionally. (Pris opens her mouth to speak but Pomp beats her to it.) And no I will not reveal the identity of your most romantic author, some surprises are best left to be surprised. Pris: (Angrily) Oh Pomp... Well at least give me a hint... Pomp: Not at all. No hints, no clues, no signs, no suggestions. I will not be a party to any hearty dealings. Please, don't ask, don't even think to. Pris: But Pomp! Pomp: Good day sweet maid. (Pomp begins to leave stage left where he encounters the Ambassadors entering.) 1st. Ambassador: (Accosting Pomp) Excuse me, you - yes you - servant to the King. Where is your master? Pomp: (Beating a strategic retreat cross stage) Excuse me sir but I think you have me confused with someone else. 2nd. Ambassador: I think that we do not. I know you, you are Pomp the King's man. 1st. Ambassador: And we have traveled from afar to bring news to the King. Well, speak quickly man. Where is he? Pomp: Pomp? I know no Pomp. What a silly name for a man... Er, my name is Winkle. Barton Winkle. Don't you know a Winkle when you see one? 2nd Ambassador: We certainly do. Exit Pomp stage right with Ambassadors giving chase. Pris: Hum, of all the fools to know, trust me to know an honorable one. But his silence does give me clues. Who was there before I entered, his arm draped around dear Pomp's shoulder? Who was that who walked so happily with the tight lipped fink, trading a joke and a secret? None other than the co-conspirator himself. The author who took simple Pomp into his confidence, and bid him deliver this letter to me. Oh, did happiness ever know such rapture as I? Did the first buds of love ever blossom so full. Oh how drunk seems the day... Enter the Ladies of the Court stage Right. They confer then walk solemnly up to Pris. 1st. Lady: Good day to you Miss. Knowitall, what makes you swoon on such a beautiful day? 2nd. Lady: Yes, surely you do not faint at the sight of the sun? Maybe you should get outside more... Pris: How lovely it is to see you ladies, sometimes my heart does yearn for your sweet banter. 3rd. Lady: Oh watch out, she's being nice. Something must be wrong. Pris: Oh ladies, if you only knew... 2nd. Lady: A secret huh? Now this does get better. 1st. Lady: Yes dear tell us, you know that you'll feel better. 2nd. Lady: For a secret is not truly a secret until it is told. 3rd. Lady: As truth is not truly truth until there is a lie. 1st. Lady: (Nicely) Yes dear tell us... (pause, then not so Nicely) I think it would be best. Pris: Well, the most wonderful thing has happened to me... 1st Lady: Yes? Pris: You see, it seems... 2nd Lady: Yes? Pris: That there... 3rd Lady: Yes? Pris: ...No, You ladies wouldn't care. It's far too intimate. All Ladies: Arh! 3rd. Lady: (Bitterly) Dearest Pris. I think your that your perpetual playfulness will be your undoing. 2nd. Lady: Truly, we take no pleasure in it. 3rd. Lady: So we suggest that you spill the proverbial beans. 2nd. Lady: Lest we spill them on you... Pris: Your arguments are stunningly persuasive. Peruse this; and try not to choke on your own craw. (Hands the ladies the letter. They read.) 1st. Lady: Well... 2nd. Lady: This is... 3rd. Lady: What the... 2nd. Lady: From who... 1st. Lady: I think... 2nd. Lady: Is truly... 3rd. Lady: It can't be... 2nd. Lady: But it is... 1st. Lady: You lucky... (All three sigh in unison. Pris moves off down stage.) 1st. Lady: Well. 2nd. Lady: Yes, well. 3rd. Lady: Very, yes, well. 2nd. Lady: She doesn't deserve it you know. 1st. Lady: No, not a bit of it. 2nd. Lady: I mean, we've been around here longer. It should be us in her position. 3rd. Lady: Truly. 2nd. Lady: Just look at her. Pretty, yes, but young. She definitely doesn't have the years of refinement and culture that blesses us. 1st. Lady: Indubitably. 2nd. Lady: See here (Referring to the letter.): `Sweet & Charming dove.' I ask you, does she look at all like a dove? Pigeon, chickling, budgerigar maybe. But dove? 3rd. Lady: Definitely. Quite undoveish. 2nd. Lady: I would think that this romantic author would prefer something more akin to an eagle. (Nods from the ladies.) 1st. Lady: Truly. A hawk. (Nods) 2nd. Lady: A falcon. (Nods) 3rd. Lady: A Paragon. (Nods) Pris: A Vulture. (Nods, then protests.) 1st. Lady: Why you, young lady, have been granted something far beyond your means. It is only right that we should...should... 2nd. Lady: Look out for our sister when she is in so far over her head. (Nods) Pris: You're just jealous. 1st. Lady: Why, that is an insane assumption. 2nd. Lady: Totally and completely- 3rd. Lady: -True. (Others cast her disparaging looks.) Well, there is no reason to beet around the bush. Pris: Come ladies, this is no time form foolish bickering. I am in need of your most expert help. We have here our coward in most grave need of proclamation. It will require the summation of all our famine wiles if we are to send him to it. 1st. Lady: Why should we help you? 2nd. Lady: We're the jealous ones remember. Pris: You would let a little thing like jealousy stand between you and such a juicy piece of gossip? 3rd. Lady: Is true... 2nd. Lady: we are bound... 1st. Lady: by are undying nosiness. 2nd. Lady: What should we do? Pris: Well, here is my plan. (Enter King stage Right.) King: Good day to you fair ladies. Ladies: Good day to you my Lord. King: I trust that this is a most fair day for you. 1st. Lady: Aye my Lord, it is a fine one. King: Then all is well? 2nd Lady: All is better than well my Lord. King: Is it so. What could possibly make such a sunny day so much better than just plain well. 3rd. Lady: Oh my Lord, that would be telling. King: Telling? Pris: Aye my Lord. We ladies must have our secrets. King: Secrets? You keep secrets from whom? Pris: Only those who would wish to know them. King: And I wish to know them? Pris: You must since you asked. King: Ah, but If I did not wish to know your secrets... Pris: Then we would not tell you either. King: Because? Pris: Because you do not want to know our secrets, so therefore there is no reason to tell you. King: (After a pause.) Something tells me that I am out classed here. Pris: Do not have that feeling sire. One should always enter into such a conversation with secrets to tell of one's own. Otherwise one is like the drinking man who owns nothing but a mule. King: Excuse me? Pris: He is destined to be thrown out on his ass. (The King looks dumbfounded as the ladies of the court giggle.) Good day to you my lord. King: Good day to my sweet maid. (Exit Pris and the Ladies of Court stage left.) How strange her answers seem; so loaded one must be careful not to shoot one's self. Does she know? Does she even suspect? Oh God, what if she discovers me? What a fool I would look then. But what if she doesn't know? What is she doesn't even suspect? What if she has no inclination at all? What then? Will all my efforts be in vain? (Pause, then he pulls himself together.) No I cannot let myself think this way. If I second guess my guesses I'll run myself into the ground. Enough of it. (Enter Pomp stage right.) Pomp: Good day to you my Lord. King: (Distracted.) Oh good day. Pomp: (Taking the king by the arm and walking cross stage.) If it pleases your Majesty, I think the sun is better over here. King: (Confused.) What? Pomp: The light over here is much better to read by. King: What? But I'm not reading. Pomp: Then it is much better to think by. King: Huh? Pomp: For as they say: "Light is food for the brain." King: I thought that was fish? Pomp: Fish sir... No, no lets not start that again. (Exit Pomp and King stage left. Enter Ambassadors stage right.) 1st. Ambassador: Do you say that he went this way? 2nd. Ambassador: Aye I'm sure of it, as I am the day. 1st. Ambassador: Cures be, where is that Pomp? 2nd. Ambassador: 'Tis a small wood, not far to romp. 1st. Ambassador: But I tell you, we must find the King. 2nd. Ambassador: And how quickly, for news we bring- 1st. Ambassador: -of actualized peace in yonder Glade. 2nd. Ambassador: Of forthright treaties and pacts we've made. 1st. Ambassador: So nothing must now stop the coming. 2nd. Ambassador: Or all is lost and again we're running. 1st. Ambassador: Off to war and hellish thunder. 2nd. Ambassador: And to nights so robbed of slumber. 1st. Ambassador: So lets now go find the King. 2nd. Ambassador: And to him all wonder bring. (Enter Minstrel stage left, plucking at his lute.) 1st. Ambassador: (Seeing the Minstrel.) There is a man, chance may he know. 2nd. Ambassador: Of where the King and servant go. Ask him quick or all is lost. 1st. Ambassador: And many would pay for that cost. (To the Minstrel) Excuse me sir, perhaps you'll tell, 2nd. Ambassador: And with a word perhaps foretell. 1st. Ambassador: Of where the King does wander now. 2nd. Ambassador: So by chance he may allow us to relate some wondrous news. 1st. Ambassador: That will snip and snuff his fuse. Minstrel: I'm sorry sirs and cannot relate where his Majesty is to date. But I do belive that there's a chance that if to throne you cast a glance, you maybe luck to find him there even though the chance is rare. 2nd. Ambassador: Many thanks to you dear sir, and to you may we confer 1st. Ambassador: The strongest blessing of any name. And to your heart bring fortune and fame. Minstrel: That is most kind of you to say, and I thank you most this day, but there is a question of which I'll ask, a simple one for you to task. But do you do it tongue in cheek, in verse and meter often speak. 2nd. Ambassador: Why no I think you have it wrong we speak as arrow not as a song. Minstrel: Excuse me sirs I am betwixt. 1st. Ambassador: With someone else you have use mixed. (Ambassadors begin to leave stage right.) 2nd. Ambassador: My friend did you grasp his converse? 1st. Ambassador: No, to me it was in verse. (Exit) (Enter Pomp stage left.) Pomp: Good Minstrel, may I have a word? Minstrel: Truly sir, what have you heard? Pomp: (Giving the Minstrel a strange look.) By chance have you happened to see- Minstrel: -Two men wonder by this maple tree. Pomp: (Give the Minstrel a very strange look.) Do you mind? Minstrel: Is it not of you kind? Pomp: (Giving the Minstrel a very very strange look.) Stop it. Minstrel: Or should I hop it. Pomp: Arh! Minstrel: (Opens his mouth but can't think of anything to rhyme with Arh!) Excuse me Pomp, I got a little caught up in the action. Pomp: I do suppose. Have you by chance seen two men wonder this way? Minstrel: I have just had a pleasant conversation with just such a number of men. Did they happen to be dressed in blue? Pomp: Did they number two? Then that is them. Could I bother you for the direction they went? Minstrel: They did walk yonder to the throne room. (Points stage right.) Pomp: Then I will be walking yonder. (Walks sage left.) Good day. Minstrel: But most sociable Pomp, why do you wish to avoid these men? Pomp: It is simple sir, and can be summed up in one word: Work. I'm against it, and those men mean it. What could ruin such a wonderful day more than having to do work. Good day. (Exit stage left.) Minstrel: I think if that man spent half the effort working that he spends in avoiding it, he would be king of this town. (Enter Ladies of Court stage right, fans in hand. They confer among themselves then surround the Minstrel.) 1st. Lady: Is it not the most beautiful day sweet Minstrel? Minstrel: Aye, I suppose that it is, but nothing can be as beautiful as you ladies. (The ladies giggle and fan themselves.) 2nd. Lady: Oh Minstrel, you are too kind. Minstrel: Kindness has nothing to do with the truth. 3rd. Lady: (To herself) And truth has nothing to do with your compliments. Minstrel: Excuse me? 3rd. Lady: Dear Minstrel, how do you like our town? Minstrel: It is a most fine one. In all the world I have not seen its like. (The ladies keep using their fans.) 2nd. Lady: And its populace, do they impress you too? Minstrel: Most assuredly. A fine forthright people. (fans) 1st. Lady: And the views, do you like the views? Minstrel: Yes, quite scenic. (fans) 2nd. Lady: So dear Minstrel do you have plans to stay? Minstrel: Why no, (The fans stop.) It is a most beautiful town but the road is my home. 3rd. Lady: But...but...but surely there is something in this town that would be worth staying for? Minstrel: I'm sorry fair ladies, your beauty is unparalleled, but even it is not enough to chain my wandering soul. 1st. Lady: (Confused.) But if your not staying why then did you- Ouch! (2nd. Lady kicks her in the shin.) 2nd. Lady: Dear Minstrel, is not the road lonely? Minstrel: Yes I suppose, but I am my own best company. 3rd. Lady: But does not your heart yearn for hearth and home? 1st. Lady: Yes, do you not long for the warmth of a fireside and the comfort of a family? 2nd. Lady: Do you not ever wish to settle down? Find the explicit happiness that comes from love of one special person? Minstrel: Well now that you mention it... (Fans flutter to life.) 3rd. Lady: And would not Sunset Town be as good a place as any? Minstrel: Well... There is... 2nd. Lady: We know it. Good day to you good Minstrel. 3rd. Lady: May luck and love be on your side. 1st. Lady: She is very lucky- Ouch! (Kicked again.) Quit it! (Exit ladies stage right.) Minstrel: (Looking confused.) I think there was more to that conversation than did meet my ears. Either that or this whole town is full of lunatics. An opinion I have long been considering. If the truth be known there is but one reason that I would stay in this backward Sunset Town. That is that fair maiden named Pris. I think that I have never seen her like. Nothing across all the countries I have traveled can compare to her beauty. But before I can chance to court her I have to find her, and these most beautiful woods are to me as a maze. But there is nothing else to do but try, and try I will, for no woods can keep us apart forever. (Exit stage left plucking at his lute.) Scene 3 The woods from Act I Scene 3. Enter Pris stage Left followed behind by the Ladies of court. They are trying to catch up with her. 1st. Lady: Pris my dear, wait awhile! 2nd. Lady: Dear, we have good news. Pris: (Turning to the Ladies of Court.) Good ladies, what have you found out? 3rd. Lady: Most wonderful news. (Proudly) We have discovered the identity of your the romantic author. Pris: (Worried) You didn't just ask him did you? Oh good God. 2nd. Lady: Oh no, we were much more tactful than that. Please give us some credit. 1st. Lady: Yes dear, we put two and two together. If you know what I mean. Pris: Yes, you got five. 1st. Lady: (Insulted) Humm. Pris: We'll don't keep me in suspense. (Closing her eyes and crossing her fingers.) Is it? 3rd. Lady: Well, it seems... Pris: Yes? 2nd. Lady: That there is... Pris: Yes? 1st. Lady: That it is... Pris: Yes? 2nd. Lady: No, you do not want to know. It's of no importance. Pris: Arh! Tell me! (Grabs 2nd. Lady by the shoulders.) 2nd. Lady: Alright, alright. Yes, my dear, its Him. Pris: (Overjoyed) Oh glorious day! I think my heart will stop beating in my chest... Or jump out through my throat... Oh, I don't think I care! (Laughs) But tell me ladies, how did you discern this information? What ingenious ploy did pry out the information? 3rd. Lady: Oh you know... One part information for four parts inference. You can be assured that it is he. Pris: You ladies will be the hub of this court yet. Oh what a glorious day! 1st. Lady: Well dear, don't just stand there swooning. We've done our work, now it is your job to win him over. 2nd. Lady: Like that will be a task, she is preaching to a pre-converted audience. Pris: (Starting to leave.) I must find him. But- 3rd. Lady: -We left him at the field upon the edge of the wood, plucking at his lute. Pris: (Leaving stage right) Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! 2nd. Lady: (Morosely) Don't thank us, that's what were here for. Pris: Oh what a beautiful day! (Exit stage right. Moments later: enter stage right and walk across stage.) Wrong way. (Exit stage left.) 1st. Lady: She doesn't deserve you know... 2nd. Lady: Humm... 3rd. Lady: We've been here longer... 2nd. Lady: Humm... 1st. Lady: I mean just look at her... 2nd. Lady: Humm... (Exit Ladies stage right.) Scene 4 The field from Act II scene 1. It is evening. Enter King stage right brandishing a letter. King: (With an earnest look.) I but hope that the contents of my first correspondence was well received. I so follow it, like ammunition to the cannons, with another letter in a similar vein. I do hope the arrows that I fire find their mark straight and true, and Cupid may place his wondrous burden in the very depths of my mistress' heart. But how should I deliver this communication? I cannot trust simple Pomp as my messenger again. He assuredly would run off at the mouth given too much drink and opportunity. I must find a better way... (Looking off stage right he see Pris coming.) But look, her she comes in a most joyous mood. I will leave this note here on this rock for her to find in passing. Quickly I must away before she comes. (Begins to leave stage left, but stops himself.) But maybe I can play this accident for double advantage. Here, I will hide myself behind this brave strong oak and perceive the actual reception of my romantic correspondences. Quite now, here she comes. (The King disappears behind a tree. Enter Pris stage right in an gleeful mood. She enters and looks around the stage, she spots the letter and walks over to it.) Pris: What is this? Could it be? Another one. Oh quickly to it. (Pris quickly begins to tear open the letter. Enter Minstrel stage left. The two see each other and exchange a panicked gaze. After an long moment their turn away from each other. Minstrel to the front left of the stage, Pris to the back right.) Minstrel: (Panicked, Aside.) There she is! Oh God what should I do? Look at me, I'm trembling all over. This has never happened before. What is it about this girl? Pris: (Moving to the front of the stage. Panicked, Aside.) There he is! Oh God what should I do? Look at me, I'm trembling all over. This has never happened before. What is it about this man. Minstrel: (Panicked, Aside.) I got to do something... Think! Pris: (Panicked, Aside.) Don't just stand there girl do something? Minstrel & Pris: (Together, Panicked, Aside.) Say something! (Turn to each other and say:) Hello. Minstrel: (Panicked, Aside.) Well, that a start. Pris: (Panicked, Aside.) Oh boy... Minstrel: (Panicked, Aside.) I have to do something... Walk over to her. (Begins to move.) No, that won't do. By my life she is the most beautiful thing I've seen... Pris: (Panicked, Aside.) Come, pull yourself together, this is no way to act. Do something! (Turns toward the Minstrel then turn back.) Oh, I do belive he is even more handsome than I remember... Minstrel: (Bravely, Aside) Enough, I will do it now! (To Pris) A most good day to you. Pris: (Panicked, Aside.) He's talking to me! Turn legs! Oh no, I'm rooted to the spot! (To the Minstrel) Good day to you sir. Minstrel: Is it not a beautiful day? Pris: As beautiful as they do come. Minstrel: Most true. (Long painful pause.) Pris: Good Minstrel- Minstrel: (To quickly) -Yes? Pris: (Not sure what she was going to say.) Err... What do you think of yonder glade? Minstrel: (Looking at Pris not the glade) It must be one of the prettiest glades that I have ever seen. (Pris, who was looking at the glade, looks back at the Minstrel and they exchange a long pregnant gaze.) Pris: (Pulling her eyes away and moving up stage.) That is a most strange way to describe a glade, Minstrel. Minstrel: (Following) I do but describe what I see, the words do choose themselves. Pris: Is that true? Than how would you describe yonder brook? Minstrel: (Not looking at the brook) It is like a song that serenades in the night, a soft and winding melody that does warm the very essence of my soul. Pris: And yonder mountain? Minstrel: (Again, not looking at the mountain) What words could describe it awe inspiring beauty. What verse could lend it anything that did not already hang in its perfect, God granted features. Pris: And yonder meadow? Minstrel: (Now standing next to Pris) Is there anything in my boorish eloquence that could describe the depth and expanse of its splendor? (touching her hair) How its soft flowing locks- Pris: Locks? (Turns around and sees how close he is standing. Back off across stage. Remembering the letter) Do you write Minstrel? Minstrel: (Following Pris) Only when real words cannot satisfy. Pris: Do you often write to ladies? Minstrel: Only when I can't sing to them. (Takes Pris by the waist and turns her to him.) Dear Pris, have you ever seen the stars fall from the sky, crumpling down to earth like the broken shells of eggs? Have you see the ground turn over upon itself and suck under all that walks above it? Have you ever seen a man's heart break and shatter to a thousand pieces and drain the very life from his frame? Dearest Pris, have you ever neglected a man's love? Pris: (Scared) What are you saying? Minstrel: When I first saw you I knew. There were no perhaps, no maybes, no second thoughts or wishes. Most beautiful Pris you are all that I have thought of since entering Sunset Town. Pris: (Pulling away from his embrace.) This is all so sudden. Minstrel: But the heart does not wait for us to catch up. If we let it go, it is gone for ever. Pris: Dearest Minstrel... Do you have a name? Minstrel: (Laughing) Aye, my name is Malcolm. Pris: Dearest Malcolm, what is there for me to say. Minstrel: Say that what sits in my heart sits also in yours, tell me that I have not just wasted all my love. Pris: Of what your words speak I also feel. From the moment that I looked into your eyes I knew that only time did keep up apart. Minstrel: Then my love, let all else be damned, and let the very heart and soul of this world sing out to our unison. Most exquisite maid, let us in the face of all seal our love with a kiss. (As they kiss Pris drops the letter to the ground.) Pris: I do believe the ground did move below us. Minstrel: Or was it the sky above? Pris: I love you so. Minstrel: I every ounce as much. Pris: I must away! Minstrel: There is so much we have to do this day! (Exit Pris stage left, Minstrel stage right. After a long pause the King emerges from behind the tree. He looks totally cold and calm. He walks over to where Pris has dropped the letter and pricks it up. He methodically rips it into tiny bits and throws them to the ground. He marches off stage right.) Act III Scene 1 The King's Quarters. It is night, the room is lit with candles. Enter King stage right, working himself up into a fury. King: (Seething) There is no reason for me to be angry, nothing at all has happened to me. There is no reason for me to be angry, all has worked out well. There is no reason for me to be angry, on the contrary I should be happy. The bud of love has blossomed into a flower, and romance has grown in this spring. There is no reason for me to be angry, even if that interloper is pruning HIS roses in MY garden! Arh! (Turns over a table smashing its load across the floor. Shouting.) There is no reason that I should be angry! Not I! The King of Sunset Town! There is no reason that I should fume and seethe at that... That creature! That beast! That horror! (Turns over a chair) There is no reason that I should spit at the very concept that that THING is anywere near such a sweet rose as her! (Smashes an expensive looking vase) Arh! My very heart does explode. My stomach does churn. My anger does flame! It is far more than anything that I could possibly ever bear! Malcolm. How like poison it does taste to my tongue. How my skin crawls at the very idea that that serpent's hands will touch her soft flowing hair. His bitter pestilent lips kissing her sweet perfumed cheek... (Picking up a meat knife from off the floor.) I'll...I'll cut him from appendix to Adams Apple! Remove his festering heart and throw it to the dogs like so much rotten meat! How deep I will slice into his bones, suck out his marrow, and spit it into his wondering eye! Foul Beast! Pestilent Knave! Whore Loving Son of Dog! I'll cut you from ear to ear! I'll squeeze out your life and leave you for dead! You Cancer! I'LL KILL YOU!! (Sticks the Knife into the door post. As these last words echo out the King fall into silence, he drops to his knees, head in hands. After a long pause he slowly raises his head from his hands.) (With fear) My God, how quick my temper burns. I must calm my fiery blood and let cool logic dab my brow. Those two lovers have, by brave mutual consent, chosen each other to be. I am but a third cog in an ghostly machine. I have no more right to interfere in their lives than they do in mine... (Explodes with emotion) But how can I let her slip away? How can I let another man be with her for eternity? I have no RIGHT to meddle, but I MUST! What else is there left for me if I don't? She is all to me, all. I do believe my very life is held in her breath. How could I let her be with someone else? In the look of her eyes I see all that is important to me. All my hopes, and all my fears. Oh Lord, if they would but look at me with all the depth and emotion they held when they looked at that man. Sweet Maid, do you not know? Do you not know how much I truly love you? More than it all? No, you don't. Those words that I wrote down did but fuel your love for someone else. How false, how much sorrow... But I cannot let you go, no more than I can let my heart stop beating in its chest! You must be mine for eternity, or my eternity will not see out the day. Maybe we could begin again, maybe with an ounce of courage I could do it right. Right and true for once in my life. Maybe we could begin again, maybe there is a chance that I could win your love. Win the love that you hold for him. Him, how I avoid his very name like the plague. Could you and I begin again? Begin again if he were not here? Would your heart eventually forget him? It is but my only chance. I'll banish him. For I am the King of Sunset Town, and what I say is law. I'll banish him so far from my Kingdom that he wont return in a millennia. But she does love him, and love does not have any bounds. She will go with him, and by banishing one I will banish us all. No, he must leave and he must abandon her. But I think even for all the gold in my coffers he would not leave her. For I most certainly would not do the same. No, I must make him leave. It is despicable even to my imagination, but I must do it, if there will be any hope at all. I'll have him drugged, for I do own a concoction most fit to that purpose, and I will have my guards drop his unconscious body so far away that not even his wondering legs will carry him back to my home. I think that I must do this evil if I am to gain the greater good. That I do belive is true. (Yelling off stage) Pomp! Bring me wine! Pomp! Where are you! Enter Pomp stage left. He looks around at the destruction with awe. Pomp: By God, it seems that a tornado has touched down. Should I fetch a broom or your sword? King: (Ignoring Pomp) Fetch me wine. The best that we have in our cellars. Pomp: Planning to drown your sorrows? King: (Slyly) No, its a gift. Pomp: Aye my Lord. (Exit stage left) King: (Removing a vile from a draw) I did, while traveling abroad, meet a pharmacist of most amazing ability. He did sell me, after some persuasion, a sleeping potion of powerful strength. I bought it with the innocent intent to put an end to the sleepless nights of with I was plagued. He did warn me most strongly only to use a drop, for the stuff was so potent that an ounce would put to sleep a herd of buffalo. I did try it one night and I did not wake until the next. Since then it has sat idle in my draw. (Enter Pomp stage left carrying a carafe the King stands the table back upright and Pomp places the wine there.) Leave me. (Exit Pomp stage left.) Good night sweet Malcolm. (The King empties the entire vile into the carafe.) Pomp! Pomp! (Reenter Pomp) Where does the Minstrel sleep. Pomp: We did bed him on the balcony overlooking the throne room sire. King: Good. Take this wine to the Minstrel there and cast to him my most fond regards and joy that he is with us. Pomp: But your Majesty, he is probably sleeping. King: (Shouting) Then wake him! (Regaining his calm) He will be most grateful. Pomp: (Confused) As you command. (Exit Pomp stage left with carafe.) King: Tis done. I may rest as my concoction takes its effect. How penitent my soul will have to be to pay for this sin in front of God. Oh calm, rest, there is so much more that we will have to do this night. (After a few moments Pomp reenters stage left still carrying the carafe.) Pomp: My Lord. The Minstrel does thank you for your most generous gift, and sends his hopes that he does not to offend with its refusal. He hopes that you do understand that by stricture and vow he is barred from touching even a drop of wine. (Pomp places the carafe on the table.) King: (Bitterly) That is his misfortune. Leave me. Pomp: Good night my Lord. (Exit Pomp stage left) King: (The King stands looking at the carafe. A few moments after Pomp leaves the King flies into a rage and kicks the carafe across the stage. The wine spills across the floor. He then goes about smashing everything in the room that has not already been smashed.) Refuse MY gift! Send back MY wine! Stricture and Vow be damned! Good Minstrel you have signed the very warrant for your DEATH! (The King flies to the door post in his rage, he pulls the knife free from its place and rushes off stage left.) Scene 2 Throne Room. Area above is now the Minstrel's room. There is a curtain drawn across its front to effect the Minstrel some privacy. There is a ladder or some stairs leading up to the balcony. A lantern is light behind the curtain casting a silhouette of the Minstrel onto the curtain. He is reading as the scene opens. We see him close the book and reach down and turn off the light. The lantern fades and all is dark. Enter Pomp stage left bearing a bottle of wine and a lantern. He walks to the center of the stage, taking a few drinks from the bottle and singing softly: Well night, this night is so dark, No sound, no chirp of the lark, And me I am lonely And you are so homely, Let's touch and maybe we'll spark. So maid to a matron will be, Yeah, maid to a matron so free. Oh maid to a matron it's easy to make one Oh maid to a matron with me. (He sits down on the edge of the stage dejectedly as he enters the second verse.) Don't ask for your mother she's gone, Don't ask for your father he's none. I don't care if your pretty No, I don't care if your witty Lay back 'cause your weddings begun. Chorus So carry me home my dear Take me to bed, I've no fear, Though you are my equal In horse chase and steeple, You cannot out drink me in beer. (Chorus tapering off into nothing. He takes a few more drinks from the bottle and looks sad. Enter Servant stage Right. He walks over to Pomp and speaks kindly:) Servant: You look dejected good Pomp. Pomp: (Sadly) So little of it do you know. Servant: Arh, come come. It cannot be all that bad. (Sitting next to Pomp) Nothing can be. Pomp: Oh, if only for such relaxed and prudent optimism. (Hands the servant the bottle. Sings:) "Maid to a Matron to be/ Oh maid to a Matron..." Servant: (Drinking from the bottle) Come on Pomp, buck up your spirits. (Looks at bottle, hands it to Pomp) Before I buck it all. Tell me, what can vial you in deep depression so? Pomp: (Gives bottle back) Nothing but the fact that the entire world is destroyed. Falling to pieces and raining down around my ears. Nothing else can vial me so but the april rain. Servant: (Drinks) Well to me it seems whole and full. Just look around you. How solid is the night? Thick and black. This night is not divisible into parts, and there is no chance that such darkness can rain. (Hands bottle back) Pomp: (Drinks) Oh rain, oh reign it does. With most cold intent and no heart for those that stand out in it. (Sings:) "Maid to a Matron/ It's easy to make one/ Oh maid to the Matron with me." (Stops sings.) For me the rain seems far to cold. I think I should not stand in it. I bid you do the same. (Points off stage) Servant: (Taking the bottle) But it is not raining! Pomp: No, but how the darkness does come down. Servant: (Very confused, then realizing:) Arh, I know your fault. You are in love! Pomp: (Half hearing) If only it was false, then it might me comic. There seems very little to laugh at in true love. Servant: You too? I say, this is a day for fox and hound, ball and cup, man and wife. Tell me then who is the girl. Pomp: (Sings:) "Maid to a Matron/ It's easy to make one" No, its no good. "Maid to the Matron with me." She is loved by another. Servant: Oh, you are in love with the maid Pris. Of course, she is loved by another. Pomp: (Surprised) You know? Servant: Aye, as does everyone. Pomp: Well I'll be. I thought he was more desecrate... "Maid to a Matron to be/ Yeah maid to a Matron..." Servant: (Drinking. Then after a pause.) He is a fine man. Pomp: (Bitterly) Aye, if the "fine" be in gold. Servant: (Confused) He plucks a fine tune. Pomp: Aye, on the stings of human hearts. Servant: (Trying harder) He has a merry voice. Pomp: For his own perfection's. Servant: (Annoyed) Come Pomp why are you so bitter? It was a level playing field. The rules were fair. You lost and that is that, why do you whimper? Pomp: (Taking the bottle and drinking) Aye, but your opponent does not own the ball. Servant: Sorry? Pomp: Never mind. "Maid to a Matron will be/ Oh Maid to a Matron so free/ Yeah maid to a matron/ Its easy to make one/ Oh maid to the matron-" (Stops suddenly) Tell me man, are you not the servant of Lord Monterbank? Servant: Aye, that I am. Pomp: (getting up) And is not your master a warmongering old fool? A vicious old cur? And a rusty old Bodkin? Servant: (Insulted) Why I'll have you know- Pomp: And does not your master, at every turn and whim, wish to gut and butcher? Cut and slaughter? Slit and fillet? If for no other reason than the sourness of his mood and the heat of his grumpyness. Servant: Well now... Pomp: (Bending to talk into the servant's ear) And though it all do you not still love him? Still serve his every whim and need? Servant: (Proudly) Well, yes. Pomp: (Shouting) Then you are a fool and a knave! Good night to you sir! Servant: (Rubbing his ear.) Pomp you are a drunken sot. Pomp: Aye my man, and what will I do? Servant: I pray that you will go home and sleep it off! Pomp: Off! Off! Once it's there it cannot be removed. Like a scar to the body the skin cannot over grow. Only death has the power to cover our scars. Only death has the power to end all our foibles. Servant: Some times I am not sure what to think of you. Half the time I think what you say means nothing, and the other half of the time what you say makes me sure of it. Tell me good man, are you a fool or a wise man? Pomp: Oh my good man, my good lord. A fool and a fool always. To be a wise man here is to be a fool in a far greater play. Servant: Oh... (Drinks from the bottle and thinks) Pomp: "Maid to a Matron..." (Suddenly in a comic tone.) Tell me sir: How many Gladers does it take to light a candle? Servant: (Laughing) I don't know, how many? Pomp: (Suddenly serious) One. How many should it take? Servant: Oh... Pomp: (Again comically) Again. What did the mule say to the skinner as they crested the hill? Servant: (Laughing) What? Pomp: (Making a donkey sound) What else? Servant: Oh... You know, for a fool you are not a very funny one. Pomp: Quite true. But for every joke that flounders there is an angel that laughs tears. Such is the hierarchy of humor. Servants: That angels have bad humor? Pomp: Aye, and inversely down to the fool. "Maid to a Matron/ Its easy to make one." (Then pushing the bottle to the servants lips) Here, here. Drink your fill, for I think we will not taste the like of this again. Servant: Truly it is fine. Where is it from. Pomp: From those with bad humor. Servant: (Trying to be funny) Oh, a angel's brew? Pomp: (Quickly) Or a kingly ferment. Think not upon it and sip your all. (Walks to the center of the stage and yells of right) For the liquor of life must be enjoyed by those with tongue for it! (Waits) Phaf! Deaf ears cannot hear. Servant: Who do you call to? Pomp: (Idly) The heavens and the earth. Let them hear me and call me fool, for in doing so they but imply themselves. Servant: Still sir, I cannot fathom you. Pomp: And may that be my epitaph, for I think little else will. Servant: That does remaind me Pomp. I did meet two men of lordly persuasion who asked me if I know of your wereabouts. When I said I did not they were greatly put out, and threated you with bodily harm when they found you. Pomp: Most kind of you to relate this, but the men have been dispatched. The King, with ear full of there knowledge, sent them back to the Glade from which them came. (The Servant stands up and brushes off his clothes. He drinks the last of the bottle and hands it to Pomp) Servant: Well if I were you I would not encounter them upon there return, they did not like the sound of your name. Now, thank you very kindly for the angels brew but I am afraid that I must depart. My master will hail and holler if I do not serve him soon. (Exit stage left) Pomp: Good night. "Maid to a Matron/ It's easy to make one/ Oh Maid to the Matron with me." (Pomp wanders of stage slowly.) Scene 3 The same. All is dark. Enter King stage left bearing Knife and lantern. He sneaks across the stage trying not to make a sound. In his eyes there is a look of hate. He moves to the ladder/stairs and climbs entering into the balcony. As he enters the lantern silhouettes him against the curtain and we see him move across the balcony toward a mound on the floor. He stands above the mound, knife raised, silhouetted against the curtain. He then begins to stab at the mound over and over and over. The mound flails with the blows and kicks over the lantern. As the light dies we see the mound stop flailing and lie still. A few moments later the King emerges at the ladder/stairs, hands and clothes covered in blood. He climbs down to and staggers to the center of the stage. There he collapses to the floor. Enter Courtier stage left. He runs over to the King, tries to revive the King, then calls out. 1st. Courtier: Guards! Guards! The King! He has been injured! Enter Guards, Other Courtiers and Ladies (dressed in night clothes) enter at intervals. 1st. Courtier: The King! Help the King! (Guards and Courtiers move to the King.) 1st Lady: Is he alive? 2nd. Courtier: Is he dead? 3rd. Courtier: He's breathing. 2nd. Ladies: Look he's coming around. (The King regains consciousness) 1st. Courtier: My Lord, where are you wounded? King: (Groggy) Huh? 2nd. Courtier: My Lord, where are you bleeding? King: (Better) What? 1st. Lady: My Lord, are you injured? King: (Remembering and Panicking) No, no... 3rd. Lady: Then who's blood is this my Lord? King: (Full recovered now, he looks around at all the people. After a long pause he points up at the balcony.) The Minstrel's. The 1st. Courtier: (Goes up to the balcony. He reenters sorrowfully.) He is dead. Stabbed. (Everyone looks shocked, one of the ladies bursts into tears) King: (Climbing to his feet) Yes, murdered! Murdered most horrid. 2nd. Courtier: (Horrified) Good God above, what happened. King: (Thinking quickly. Then with dismay in his voice) I had awoken with a start, remembering that I had left most important correspondences here by my throne. I did hear cries from above, and climbed up to the Minstrel's bed. There I found him, to my horror, inches from death's door. I took him into my arms as the last of his life drifted from his shell. His body ripped and tattered by a murder's blade. (Pauses for effect) Assassin, Assassin. Guards, scour the country side, he couldn't have gotten far. Go! (Exit Guards.) Oh horrid day! (The Courtiers and Ladies run of stage to seperate tasks. The King looks out over the audience with tears in his eyes, then exits stage right.) Scene 4 Woods from Act I scene 3. Enter Servant and Courtier one stage left, one stage right. The Courtier is brandishing sword and torch, the Servant a bottle. Servant: (Drunkenly) "Maid to a Matron/ It's easy to make one..." Hello there good sir, what news? Courtier: (Seriously) Grave dealing abound in our kingdom. Servant: (Sarcastically) What's wrong, have we run out cheese crackers again? Courtier: (Angrily) No boy, a man has been murdered. Servant: (Sobering up) Oh dear. Who? Courtier: The Minstrel. The King has called all men to arms. Servant: Oh dear. Courtier: We are to scour the town to find his murderer. Servant: Oh dear. Courtier: We are not to rest until the scoundrel is found. Servant: Oh dear. Courtier: Come on man. Can't you say anything but `Oh dear'? Servant: Oh dear. Courtier: Arh, you're a loss. (Exit stage right) Servant: Oh dear. I must find my master. (Exit stage left.) Scene 5 The Throne room, many days later. Enter King dressed in armor, with sword and shield. He walks mournfully across the stage to his throne. On it he places his weapons and helmet, then walks to the foot of the stage and sits down. King: (Tired) How heavy my heart hangs. I feel as if I'm carrying around the world upon my shoulders. Oh, heavy day. It all swims in my head like far, far to much too drink. My hands and feet have been numb for days. I hope soon the circulation will return. How it is all more than I can handle. (Long pause. Then almost laughing) My plan has worked out well. No one even contemplates my guilt. The search throughout the Town was complete but uneventful. No murderer found. I thought that they all had given up the chase when something (Stops to choose his words) unexpected happened. It seems that a man came forth stating that he had seem my Pomp in the throne room before the Minstrel was so foully murdered, spouting his hatred for the Mistral. Pomp was apprehened and questioned long before I even knew that he was accused. It seem that Pomp gave a full confession to his interrogators, admitting his guilt and divulging his alliance to the Gladers. I shudder to think of the methods they used to glean this confession out of my dearest Pomp. They came to my throne, those Hawks, those Warmongers, and produced this evidence before me. They demanded that I seek retribution for this most blatant attack on our kingdom, and once again take up the war against the Barony of the Glade. What choice did I have? And for poor Pomp, my hands were bound. I had no other choice but to order, by Royal proclamation, his immediate, public, and summery execution by hanging. (A change of light reveals a figure in the distance hanging from the gallows.) He was the only one who knew the truth, now it is silenced with him. (The King breaks down into tears.) Oh Pomp! Poor most innocent Pomp! How thick my hands are with great men's blood! I had to do it! You must understand. They gave me no choice! Oh Pomp, could you forgive me? How much I have lost! (Is totally overcome with emotion.) My beloved Pris has locked herself away. Shut out the outside world. No one has seen her, just heard her sobs from in her room. Now I lead the good men of this Town off to war, to enter battle once again with the Gladers. The Gladers, a calm and logical people so ready for peace, once more plunged into war. In my moment of anger how many men have I killed!? In my hope to win the love of one women how many lives did I destroy? Oh God! God! Can there be any forgiveness in heaven for a demon such as me? Oh God! (Shouts) I had to do it! Don't you understand? I had no choice! Please say that you understand! Oh how lost I am...(Overcome.) How he struggled, how he fought to live... how my anger kept bringing the blade down... Enter Pris stage left. Dressed in black. She has been crying. The King becomes aware of her and quickly regains his composure. King: (As calmly as he can) Good day to you sweet maid. Pris: (Solemnly) Good day to you my Lord. King: (Picking up his weapons are armor) What cause raises you from your isolation? Pris: Only the hope that you will stop this war. King: All negotiations have ended. Retribution is all that we can afford. Pris: But please my Lord, I did lose the most from Malcolm's foul murder. King: The time for grieving our loss has ended. Pris: But my Lord- King: (Yelling) -Don't call me that! (Softer) I, of all, do not deserve it. Pris: I'm sorry. King: No! Do not apologize. For all of God's mercy, do not apologize! (Taking her hand.) You, of all should never apologize for anything. (He gazes at her, tears in his eyes.) Tell me, when all is done, what made you fall in love with him? Pris: (Crying) Oh please don't torture me so! King: (still holding her hand) Please tell me! What was it about him? Please, I must know. (Pris completely breaks down into tears. She is unable to answer.) King: (Now also in tears.) Oh maid, how pure all it is to you. How true and forthright. Pris: No! How dark it all seems to me! King: (Walking to the back of the stage) Let none of it touch, you can so far rise above it! Pris: (Just as the King is about to leave.) But why, why did he have to die!? King: (Coldly) Because that's the law round here. Exit King stage right. Pris breaks down in tears, collapsing on the floor. All lights darken except back light behind the curtain above. The Busker pulls back the curtain and speaks. Busker: And so the King of Sunset Town went off to war, leaving behind the love that he never knew. The King never returned from the bloody conflict that his own misguided longings began. Cut down upon the battle field with so many of his kin. Of Pris the stories are not known. She did disappear from Sunset Town, never to be seen again. Some think she wondered in memory of her love. Other think that maybe, only maybe, there was the slightest chance in the world, that the most fair and perfect Pris did by chance love the King of Sunset Town. The End. December 13, 1992.