[The following erotica contains iambic pentameter, reader discretion is advised.]
Assume
Act 1, scene 1
[the main hall of Duke Desmond's home]
[enter Narrator]
Narrator:
In Tarringsfield in merry May, we see
the tale of most sincere Duke Desmond starts.
Never a wedding march was played for he,
but he became Cupid to others' hearts.
A week had passed with old Lord Beldon dead,
his fatal fall caused by his rearing steed.
Of such a cause for joy and mirth to spread,
no death before in all the land had need.
This lord was cold before he met his tomb.
His heart, so cruel and harsh, had been as stone.
His own sweet child had well escaped her doom.
Cecile would now be free to thrive alone.
But long alone is not a merry life.
Would Fate decree that she should be a wife?
[Enter Duke Desmond]
Desmond:
[sighs] I am, I must admit, quite soft of heart.
I've seen the rise of heat in people's blood.
I'm certain all these passions soon will boil.
And then, when all the madness rages on,
the time will be too ripe for broken hearts,
and surely so will follow broken fights.
And frays will spill out blood and ruin lives.
So peace here in my land will soon decay,
all that which I have long worked to instill.
But if I pair this crowd of wanton hearts,
so that their focus would not stray apart,
nor in so straying make some tangled web
that catching all in such an envy trap,
too full of ire and hurt would sink us down.
Instead let all that heat that spreads around
so blaze and forge new bonds of lasting love.
Come now, Milton! Where are you stowed away?
[Enter Milton]
Milton:
Here sir, what can I do to serve you well?
Desmond:
In this directed way may you do so-
as I expect Lord Farren soon arrives.
You then would serve me well to note of him
and hasting with respect to bring him here.
Milton:
I will, your grace, bestow upon this man
all due respect and more as can be shown.
So well deserves the subjects which are seen
as full of worth within your grace's eyes.
Desmond:
Good man.
Milton:
and that I strive hard to remain.
[Milton exits.]
Desmond:
[Aside] I don't suppose that anyone is spared
the broad effect of this outbreak of lust.
But as such Milton bears the burden well.
At times myself I feel that I might burst,
from all the yearnings I do hold within,
for one whose touch I dearly need to feel.
In knowing well this kind of pang of need,
I can with much great pity see about
all those who long and languish so alone.
To cure this ill I ready now a balm
that soothes the soul of any who require
such help as this in finding out a mate.
To give so dear a friend as Farren this,
I have made ready notes and letters writ
in most fine hand of dear Lady Cecile.
No doubt, in learning much of her this way,
will Farren then be most tempted to woo.
It pleases me much to-
[Enter Milton]
Milton:
[He bows.] Pardon, your Grace.
Desmond:
You have my leave to speak, proceed Milton.
Milton:
Lord Farren has arrived and waits without.
Desmond:
Good, show him in...
[Enter Lord Farren]
...glad greetings, Farren, friend!
Farren:
Good-day, your Grace, how kind you are to me!
So strange these days do seem, so wild of late,
as though a summer madness did descend
upon this month of May in much mistake.
And yet, your house still opens wide its arms
to firm embrace in hospitality,
we subjects, who must owe you humble thanks.
Desmond:
No, not at all, you have no need of thanks.
But still, come in and rest in friendship's sake.
[To Milton.] Go check that all are well throughout the house.
Milton:
Most humbly and most swiftly done, your Grace.
[Milton exits.]
[Desmond and Farren sit down together, before a table.]
Desmond:
I have compiled for you these letters all
which were composed by that Lady Cecile,
of whom I would have you lend patient ear.
As you can see from this portrait of her,
she is a damsel well beyond compare.
And though once trapped beneath the dreadful rule
of old Lord Beldon, he, her father cruel,
can now from his demise be free at last
and so admit what suitors that may call.
Just this I would so wish you now to be,
to woo this dear girl, should you like of her.
Farren:
If looks were all, I scarce could now refuse
so delicate a face as this fair maid's.
I am most keen to hear of this Cecile.
You are too kind, to think of her and me,
to see us both unite in holy love,
before that you yourself should know this joy.
But do forgive my idle question here,
why do you not desire to seek her hand?
Desmond:
Lord Farren, I know I must seem quite strange,
to here suggest this lady be pursued
but never think to make a suit of her.
In truth, that lady is dear to my heart,
although in fashion of a sibling sweet.
For all the happiness of married life,
I wish for her, but can't provide myself.
Farren:
For you I have profound respect and awe,
and take your word as this, your true intent.
So please, now let's peruse over these notes
and teach to me the mind of fair Cecile.
[Desmond and Farren mime at conversation.]
Narrator:
They then went on to talk at great a length
of all the virtues and the grace of she,
the young Lady Cecile, who knew not of
the length to which she was here so admired.
And surely the extent of such high praise,
would redden fast the lady's lily face.
Through anecdotes and tales sincere and true,
the Duke wove fast a lovely tapestry
of all that made Cecile a perfect match.
Lord Farren's heart could not avoid the bait.
And who indeed could claim they can resist,
the call of Cupid when he does decide,
to fast bestow on any such a joy?
Farren:
You have bestowed on me a wondrous need,
which now I must find ways to pay it heed.
When next as host you so desire to be,
please give the chance that I might meet Cecile.
And when at last I can look on her face
to her I will declare such fond intent,
that I would be her most devoted groom-
if she consent that she should be my bride.
Desmond:
Let us stroll out and walk about the grounds,
as not to waste the beauty of the day,
while more details we for the future plan.
So come, join me to seek the garden bright.
[Exit Duke and Farren.]
[Enter Emily]
Emily:
Oh Jasper? Jasper? Brother, dear of mine?
I thought you had desired to speak with me...
but to the air I talk, and you are none.
[She walks by the table where the letters still sit.]
And well now, what is this I note so plain?
Correspondence of one Lady Cecile?
And here there did some narrative unfold,
for there downstage he stands, the author's voice.
How do they note him not, so clear as day?
What plot was there, that passed me by so fast,
and let me not enjoy the twisting tale?
[Enter Geoffrey, from behind a curtain.]
Geoffrey:
Such plot that I could scarcely hold my tongue.
Emily:
Goddamn it, Geoffrey, don't do that to me!
How long, do tell, have you been hiding there?
[He hugs her from behind.]
Geoffrey:
A year, a year, it seems to me, my dear!
As so blunt hard beneath me was the sill
upon the which I sat to keep me hid,
