"Poety is something more philosophic and of graver import than history, since its statements are of the nature of universals, whereas those of history are singulars."
-Aristotle

by Paul Lytle

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

LADY Cindy
LORD Patrick, her husband
MICHAEL Moore, a clown
KING George XLIII
Sir COLIN, a knight
An ADVISOR
A SERVANT
A MAID
A GHOST
A FOOL
A MESSENGER
Other SERVANTS, NOBLES, KNIGHTS, and PARTY GUESTS

ACT I, SCENE I

A castle hall. Enter SERVANT and MAID.

SERVANT: You toil too much, my dear; our Lord and Lady
         have not in this room sat for twelve moons,
         not since young Casey rose away for war.
         Relax, and sit, and they shan't even notice
         A day of dust upon the table here.

[he takes her rag]

MAID: Ow, give that back, or see my neck stretched.
         Know you not that Michael returned this day?
         A feast is made this very moment, and by
         the falling sun shall this room be filled again.
SERVANT: O, Michael is at last returned then?

[enter MICHAEL]

[enter LORD and LADY]

SERVANT: [aside] His sympathies have long been with the lands
         outside our border. He sided with the revolt,
         secretly, so not to lose his head with the rest.
         [aloud] But soft, for here arrives the Lord and Lady.
         All hail our good Lord Patrick and Lady Cindy.
LORD: But rise, my friends, and Michael here. What news
         have you of our son?
MICHAEL:                         Young Master Casey does well
         When I did leave a fortnight gone, and well
         were all his friends. He speaks highly of
         his king, and of the efforts that they make.
LORD: And of the war itself? What word bring you?
MICHAEL: A war for gold this is, my lord, naught else.
         But did you know of all the secret ties
         'tween jewelers in the south and George the King?
LORD: Politics be damned, I know my King.
         But where does fight my son? Come; speak as I
         change from these riding clothes.

[exeunt LORD and MICHAEL]

SERVANT:                                                 My Lady, think not
         again on Michael's rantings. You know his thoughts.
LADY: I think on not a word, 'cept those upon my son.
         How go the preparations for our dinner?
MAID: I shall see.

[exit MAID]

SERVANT:                 And I shall choose the wine,
         with your permission, gracious Lady Cindy.
LADY: Go.

[exit SERVANT]

LADY:         Alas, the days seems dimmer now,
         so empty is this place. I find I miss
         the wailing of an infant, though 'twere years
         since one did wail within these ashen walls.

[enter GHOST]

LADY: Who goes there? Come now, and answer!
         What is this? The deathly figure of my son?
         Casey? Casey! Art thou returned at last?
         Speak to me, my son!
GHOST:                                 Remember me.
LADY: He speaks, and yet his voice is not his own.
         I think this be a vision or a dream
         and not my son in flesh.
GHOST:                                 Remember me.

[exit GHOST]

LADY: Now he is gone, the corridor is clear.
         A dream for certain passed this way. I fear
         the portent it delivers. Long desire
         touched my soul to see him out the mire
         of the war in Spain, but once he's here
         my weary soul is filled instead with fear.
         Mayhap my eyes and ears deceive my mind,
         so tired I have been. By morn I'll find
         it all forgotten. Soon this room be filled;
         for needs, this matter for a time be stilled.

[exit]

ACT I, SCENE II

A castle hall. Enter LORD, LADY, SERVANT, MAID, MICHAEL Moore, FOOL, and PARTY GUESTS.

FOOL:
                 Shall I compare thy wondrous love
                         To this the summer morn?
                 The sudden warmth will in me brew
                         A sight, I feel reborn.

                 You taunt the rays of sunlight forth
                         Into the clouded sky;
                 And likewise just a whiff of you
                         Will thereby cause me rise.

LADY: I understand but half of what is sung
         within this hall, and thank it only half.
LORD: Love and nothing more, my lady; love.
LADY: O, but love and lust are not alike,
         but oft mistook, and lust will walk as love,
         but ne'er the other way around is true.
         Virtue is the answer e'er to vice,
         and not delight and punning at the sin.
         And nor to wallow in the mourning, but
         to rise above, I think, and stand untouched.
MICHAEL: Well said, my lady, yet even Christ did take
         the whip upon the money changers once.
LADY: Does God's great wrath then give to us permission
         to laugh at the gaudy song of lust and vice?
MICHAEL: We sometimes must with sinners sleep, my Lady.

[enter messenger]

MESSENGER: My Lord.
LORD:                         What comes so late must be of note;
         but speak, and keep us waiting no more.
MESSENGER: The King! The King is coming from the war,
         and here shall rest tomorrow eve before
         he passes on the morning after.
LADY:                                                 The King!
LORD: What cause will bring him hence? Of Saracens
         we have but few, and none so worthy of
         his sword or spear. The war goes well, I think.
MESSENGER: Aye.
LORD:                   Our troops enough.
MESSENGER:                                         O, aye, again.
         The King does come to you in sympathy;
         for your sacrifice and love of him.
LADY: Sacrifice?

[enter KNIGHTS carrying CORPSE covered on shield]

MESSENGER:                    It arrives anon.
LADY: But what is this? I fear I know too well.
         Uncover him, I plea. Uncover him.
LORD: No.
LADY:         I must see.
LORD:                         You know well enough
         What lies beneath the blanket 'pon that shield.
         You need not see the Saracen's strike
         that took his life. There is no need for that.
LADY: Tell me not what I do need, my lord,
         for need is me, and well I know it.
         No war is just enough to take a son;
         no cause so pure to justify his death.
LORD: Say not these things.
LADY:                                 I'll speak what words I will,
         or is this not the right of mourners still?
         I am mourned, I am mourned, and Spain
         has not the gold to buy what I have lost.
         No Christian life is equal to my son's;
         no piece of land or part of town his worth.

[uncovers CORPSE]

LADY: O, woe, for any cause is worth the fight,
         but none at all the price a mother pays.
LORD: Remove her. Get her back to bed, I say.

[exeunt SERVANT with LADY]

LADY: The king does come, and leaves no time for sorrow.
         So tears must wait; we must prepare for the morrow.

[exeunt]

Continuing in the next four issues of Primum Mobile Magazine!

Act II, coming in January 2007
Act III, coming in March 2007
Act IV, coming in May 2007
Act V, coming in July 2007

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