'A Comedy of Errors' in Seven Acts by Spokeshave (poetry books to read .TXT) 📕

Caesar:   Most noble Francos, I greet thee heartily.

A function truly noble falls within thy grasp;

And thou wilt with it deal as only sages can.

The distant Isles are now crushed by the pow'r

Of ruthless tyrants, who on plunder bent,

Oppress a helpless, but a worthy race,

Which groans beneath a yoke of foreign make,

And hence it fitteth not the sable necks

On which it now, relentless, firmly rests.

'Tis well, we know, how, filled with visions vain,

Our predecessor sought to stuff those minds

With mental food fit only for those born

To skins of whiter tint, and hence with grasp

Of firmer structure, built by kindly Time,

Who fashioned us in more ennobled mold;

While power divine to cap the climax grand,

With hand so deft, gave it its final touch.

These men with vision faint who planned so vain

Knew not the knightly thought bred in the south.

The north winds chill and stunt the subtle power

Which flourishes alone 'neath southern skies,

To read unerring from the page of truth

That God has fashioned some to mount aloft,

While others grovel on a lower plane.

Hence we must cherish ever in our hearts,

The thought that pigment marks the subtle line;

And so throw off a burden on us laid

By those who blindly cast their shoulders down,

To bear a load which deep ingratitude

Alone will be the recompense for all our pains.

Francos: My liege, I grasp the thought: a burden dark,

Which now each year a golden tribute calls,

Must be disposed of quickly, but so sly

That watching nations may not fling a slur

Upon our honor as we cast adrift

This alien race to face the world alone.

Caesar:     Sweet Francos, truly thou hast quick discerned

The thought which wisdom fathered in my mind.

"Be wise as serpent, harmless as the dove,"

Should be our watchword as we scuttle ship,

For there be those who speak with venomed tongues

Of serpents, as we cast them helpless off.

But if we of politicos make use,

And to their clamour lend approving smile,

We may while coolly thrusting them aside,

Meet with the thoughtless world's approving nod.

Francos: Ha! Ha! methinks I see my path made clear

'Twere wise to fellowship with only those

Who, longing for the flesh pots, lend their aid

To further us in this our deep design.

Caesar:       Hold! Francos, hold! The very walls have ears.

Suspicion once aroused our game is up

In silence let our worthy scheme mature;

An utterance unwise may spell defeat.

Francos: Most noble Caesar, thou at wisdom's fount

Hast drunk until the fountain hath run dry.

I ready stand to follow each command

Ignoring every judgment of mine own.

Caesar:       When I before the gods did minister,

I learned that strategy cured many ills;

And when Parnassus high I made my throne,

I found it well to wield an iron hand.

And now to work our pleasure in these Isles,

'Twere best to blend these methods in our scheme,

Whilst thou with honeyed tongue shall words employ

The callow forum shall my will obey.

But silence! put a padlock on thy tongue;

A word unspoken never worketh harm.

While he who babbles layeth down his shield,

And thus an enemy may work his death.

Francos: Mine ears are open to thine every word,

Would that they could but hear in distant Isles;

For when I beard the lion in his den,

Thy potent thoughts were then a healing balm.

Caesar:   Thou sayest well, Francos, but lend an ear;

Avoid our enemies; they counsel ill.

(To Page)   But, page, entreat sweet Quezox to attend

While we in converse measure every act.

Enter Quezox:   Most honored sire, I come at thy command,

And wait your pleasure; if by any means

My words, convincing, can this matter solve:

The land that bore me bids me loud proclaim.

So we consider wisely, let us call

The Commoner, whose wisdom is renowned.

That he may with us weigh each tangled point,

And thus make our solution doubly sure.

Caesar:       Sweet Quezox, caution is a precious thing.

And while 'tis known that council oft is wise,

Yet it were better Wilhelm were left out

For he hath visions which from tender plants

To forest monarchs grow, with roots so deep

Emplanted in the soil, that naught can stir.

Beside, financial ills have him beset,

And he now eager, filthy lucre seeks.

Francos: Most honored sire, I would from Quezox learn

What stern encounters I must early meet.

He from the first did see the canker grow

And hath a remedy, methinks, conceived.

Caesar:       Speak, Quezox, speak! and free thy surging mind.

For well I know abuses rankle there.

Our enemies politic, firm entrenched,

Have borne with heavy hand upon thy race.

Quezox:   Ah noble sire, how well thy mind conceives

The ills which bear my hapless people down.

Much learning fits thee for the ruler's seat

And keen discernment flashes from thine eye.

There pigmies move within a circle charmed

And fatten on rich spoils with cruel glee.

They force their alien ways with tyrant hands

Upon my people; and with cold disdain

Refuse our council, when 'twere meet and wise.

I beg thee, cast them out, both root and branch

And clean official nests from grafty filth.

Our patriots, able, then can claim their own

And on the ruins build a blissful state.

Caesar:       Most noble Quezox, thou hast touched the sore.

In Francos thou wilt find a helping hand,

Council him wise for he the subtle wiles

Of crafty scheming men may not discern.

Quezox:   Ah, noble sir, if I advice may breathe,

It were to shun the brood of vultures well.

They're skilled indeed to sing the siren's song,

And play with flattery on honest minds.

I feel 'twere well to journey to these Isles

In company with Francos, at thy will,

Thus guarding him from every idle tongue,

Which might make impress on an open heart.

Caesar:       Sweet Quezox, thou art wise, it shall be done.

And as you journey, meditate and plan

To lop off every head that blocks thy way,

Or lacks in sympathy for thy great work.

For Francos hath been trained for civic life

Where virtue reigns and intrigue hath no place.

But with thine aid and to guide a fearless soul,

And Tammany his pattern, all were well.

Francos: Great Caesar, trust me well; I smell the rot

that distance cannot smother, and will clean

The halls of state, and there implant true men.

Caesar:       And silence! speak nor write not idle words,

For they are often swords which cleave the soul;

When enemies who wield a cunning hand

Shall thrust them back, and laugh in gleeful scorn.

E'en I regret what in an idle hour,

I thoughtless paged regarding freedom's gift.

And now they sting me, sting me to the soul.

Oh that I ne'er had penned such childish thoughts!

Hence hold thy tongue or honeyed words proclaim

Which may mean little or perchance mean much.

And now farewell, and hie thee on thy way:

Again I say a padlock on thy tongue.

Quezox and Francos moving backward, and making obeisances.

Adieu, most noble Caesar, since the time

When Washington first donned the regal crown.

We'll smoke the woodchucks out and tan their hides

And parchment make, on which, in words of gold,

Shall be inscribed, so all the world may read:

"Saturnine pleasure it to us doth give,

To see them walk the plank from scuttled ship."

Caesar:       Ha Ha! but speak it not aloud, until 'tis done.

Both:           Whist! whist as mice! We'll oil the guillotine.

Exeunt both while Caesar washes his hands with invisible soap.

Francos . . . . . . Governor General of a Province.
Quezox  . . . . . . Resident Delegate from the Province.
Seldonskip: . . . Secretary to the Governor General.
                                   Capt of the Ship:

Scene:    On shipboard