Novel Challenge--
"The Tragedy of Nicholas, Prince of Brabant"
by Dianne la Mercenaire
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
[Scene IV. A guard platform.]
_Enter Nick, Janette, and Natalie._
Nick: The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
Natalie: (whispers) <I thought you weren't supposed to
notice things like that.>
Janette: (whispers) <This is all *your* fault, doctor...!>
_Nick looks blank. Janette and Natalie look at him
expectantly, then at each other._
Janette: (whispered, to Natalie) <Give him his cue!>
Natalie: (recovers) It is a nipping and an eager air.
Nick: (back on track) What hour now?
Natalie: I think it lacks of twelve.
Janette: (superiorly) No, it is struck.
Natalie: (annoyed) Indeed? I heard it not.
[Janette looks even more pityingly at her. Nat's getting ticked.]
It then draws near the season
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
_A flourish of trumpets, and two pieces go off._
[Everyone jumps out of their skin.]
Natalie: What does this mean my lord?
Nick: LaCroix doth wake tonight and takes his rouse
Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels,
And as he drains his draughts of AB down
The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.
[Natalie looks questioningly at Janette, who just shrugs.]
Natalie: Is it a custom?
Nick: Ay, marry, is't,
But to my mind, though I am native here
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honored in the breach than in the observance,
This heavy-headed revel east and west
Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations.
_Enter Gho....
They clepe us drunkards and with swinish phrase
Soil our addition, and indeed it takes
From our achievements, though performed at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
[Natalie and Janette are doing their best not to doze off.]
So oft it chances in particular men
That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As in their birth, wherein they are _not_ guilty,
(Since nature _cannot_ choose his origin)
_Enter Ghos...
[Nick's really getting into this now...]
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens
The form of plausive manners, that (these men,
Carrying I say, the stamp of _one_ defect...
[Natalie and Janette both elbow him in the ribs *hard*, one
from either side, forcing Nick to stop and gasp painfully
for breath.]
_*Enter Ghost!*_
Natalie: (relieved) Look, my lord, it comes.
Nick: (takes deep, gasping breath)
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thou a spirit of heath or goblin damned...
Natalie: (hissing in his ear) <It's just _Schanke_ for
heaven's sake!>
Nick: (trying to rally) Say, why is this? Wherefore?
What should we do?
_Ghost beckons Hamlet_
Natalie: It beckons you to go away with it,
As if some impartment did desire
To you alone.
Janette: Look with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground.
[exchanges conspiratorial look with Natalie]
Now <do> you go with it.
Natalie: <Yes>, by all means.
Nick: (sensing something is slightly off, but not sure
what it is) It will not speak. Then I will follow it.
Natalie: <Good plan, my lord.> [shoves him forward and
off-stage...over the parapet if possible]
Janette: Something is rotten in the state of Brabant.
Natalie: <No, that's just the formaldehyde on my clothes.>
_Exeunt._
*************************************************
Now *see* why depriving me of my server for long
periods of time is a public hazard? :-)
Dianne
Who *still* can't read her mail yet, but snuck in on an old
account just to post this stuff...aren't you *lucky*??? <g>
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