HENRY XCVI, Part 8
by Aaron Ward, in the manner of William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
KING OF A RANDOM EUROPEAN COUNTRY WITH A 35-HOUR WORK WEEK AND THE FULL MONTH OF AUGUST OFF
ARCHBISHOP of Cadbury
THE DUKE OF FLORSHEIM
HARDLY, Count of Rosebud
GOUT, an old lord
MOROSE, servant of GOUT
WINKEN, friend to MOROSE
BLINKEN, a servant to the Count
NOD, a servant to the servant
HIRSUTE, a country wench
SOUBRETTE, understudy to the king
THESPIAN, an overzealous actor
133T HAX0R, a philosopher
SCENE I.
European country. KING’s court.
[The storm continues]
Enter KING, ARCHBISHOP, DUKE, HARDLY, GOUT, and ATTENDANTS.
KING. So shaking as we are, so wan with hunger,
Find we a time for deviled eggs to eat
And dab a fringed napkin to lips
To be follow’d by strands of pasta.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soul
Shall daub its lips with the earth’s own dust.
No more shall fasting pangs darken my eyes,
Nor bruise my flow’ry cheeks with gaunt
Of fruitless days. Here, give us a blessing. (1)
ARCHBISHOP. Faciem durum cacantis habes.
(trans: You have the face of a man with severe constipation)
DUKE. How fares my leige? What, eating, all afork? (2)
HARDLY. Majesty, what cheer? (2)
KING. Faith, as starved as can be. (2)
HARDLY. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon this.
Here, sire, thou seest how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee,
I am sure, noble king, this kindness merits favor. (2)
[Aside] Thou detestable maw, thou womb of breath,
Gorg’d with countless morsels of the earth,
Thus I entreat thy rotten jaws to open,
And in spite I’ll cram thee with more food. (3)
KING. I almost die for food, and let me have it. (4)
DUKE. Sit down and feed, and grace thy table. (4)
GOUT. Sire, do cease your meanderings and sit thyself down.
Here we have roast, bread, cheese, and wine for thee.
A royal chair for thy plentiful buttocks,
And fine silver for thy pleasure.
KING. Near disaster, I can go no further.
O, I will die for food! Here lie I down,
and measure out my grave. Farewell, farewell. (5)
DUKE. What, your food is here, majesty.
Eat, and be well.
GOUT. Alas, he is for certain dead.
DUKE. How dead? Can one starve while offered food?
HARDLY. Is all our trevail turn’d to this effect?
After the slaughter of so many deer,
So many cattle, pigs, and fish,
That in this quarter have been overthrown
And sold their bodies for our king’s benefit,
Has he at last consumed the final piece?
O Majesty, majesty, I tremble with grief
At the udders lost for thy dining dance. (6)
GOUT. There’s little can be said o’t;
‘Tis the rule of majesty.
To speak on the part of royal fallacy
Is to accuse your country;
Which is most infallible disobedience.
He that starves himself is a fool;
Foolishness murders itself,
And should be buried in history,
Out of all sanctified texts,
As a desperate offense against nature.
Foolishness breeds stink,
Much like a cheese;
Consumes itself to the very baring,
And so dies with feeding on its own stomach. (7)
DUKE. You do him wrong, old lord. If he were so,
He might have sought meat at a common price.
Do not believe him, o behold this king,
Whose high respect and rich validity
Did lack a parallel; yet for all that,
He gave his life in so common an event,
If starvation be one. (8)
GOUT. Madness be his meat, I sup some myself,
And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let’s go.
Leave this corpse sprawling and lament as I do,
In anger, aged-like. Come, come come. (9)
DUKE. Canst not at least offer a blessing for our
Beloved lord?
ARCHBISHOP. Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes
in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem.
(trans: In the good old days, children like you
were left to perish on windswept crags.)
Exuent.
SCENE II.
A street.
[The battle continues]
Enter MOROSE, WINKEN, BLINKEN, and NOD.
WINKEN. Is’t true, man? Hath the king perished?
Of some horrible affliction?
MOROSE. Of no affliction if not that of starvation,
If my lord speaks true.
WINKEN. Then surely the king lives, for never
Hath such a corpulent majesty grac’d a throne,
Nor is there drought, plague, or locusts to
Prevent ample food from reaching his majesty’s ample figure.
MOROSE. As you please, then.
WINKEN. Meddle not with my thoughts, man.
Doth the king live or not?
MOROSE. Should I give again the answer that
You might reject it?
BLINKEN. Oh, do quit your stalling.
The king’s as dead as your wit,
Sprawled out on the dining hall floor.
WINKEN. Say not so! Dead, yet? And left sprawled?
How is this proper treatment for a king?
And how, who has done this?
MOROSE. Once again: the king is dead from
No affliction if not starved.
M’lord and others present saw fit to leave
His corpulent corpse where it lay,
Mayhap out of annoyance for his stupidity.
WINKEN. Canst say such of the king and live?
Surely wouldst be dangled for such words.
MOROSE. I see not a hangman nearby,
Nor is a dead king still king.
BLINKEN. O’er dramatized, I say, ‘twas his downfall.
Following the glorified speeches and proclamations
Punctuating his most meaty majesty’s rule,
Always the central figure in a scene, always
Great gouts of eloquence to spew,
I say his hunger was so great, requireth it
Expounding past the point that it mattered.
WINKEN. What horrors speakest thou,
That the man was murdered by his lines?
BLINKEN. Ay, that tho wasting from hunger,
Di’st elect to expound upon his condition,
Neglecting it’s solution, tho it be present.
WINKEN. Such horror, madly dying, like his life;
Which, being cruel to the gruel, concluded
Most cruel to himself.
[To MOROSE} Canst offer some consolation, man?
MOROSE. No greater than that should have without me mine own.
[Pause]
WINKEN. What the hell did he just say?
Exuent.
SCENE III.
Chapel.
[The music continues]
Enter ARCHBISHOP and DUKE.
DUKE. Now, from the dining hall do I fly,
And to his majesty’s love, that king most high,
Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my grief? (10)
ARCHBISHOP. Ut si!
(trans: As if!)
DUKE. He is dead, Father.
Not by a public hungry for justice,
Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand
Which fed his gullet in the acts it did
Hath, with the courage which the gut did lend it,
Splitted the stomach. This is the fork;
I robb’d his plate of it; behold it clean
From his most noble spittle. (11)
ARCHBISHOP. Flocci non facio.
(trans: I don’t give a damn)
DUKE. How, faith, to die by starvation? The poor king was almost six
and sixty years old, and in all this time there was not any man
died in his manner, pampered, in hunger-cause. (12)
ARCHBISHOP. Stultus est sicut stultus facit.
(trans: Stupid is as stupid does)
DUKE. From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,
But as the riper should be time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. (13)
ARCHBISHOP. Puto vos esse molestissimos.
(trans: I think that you are very annoying)
Enter THESPIAN.
THESPIAN. Avast! Hearken and hear me, for I bring news
Of great import!
ARCHBISHOP. Vescere bracis meis.
(trans: Eat my shorts)
DUKE. Canst not take thy flow’ry self elsewhere, knave?
We’ve no interest in thy drama nor thy news to-day.
THESPIAN. Learned ARCHBISHOP, renowned DUKE, I bear
Grim tidings for the entire kingdom! I have traveled
Long and far to bring this thee, and hold court
With thee here and now, panting and sweating tho’
I be, oh pity me, pity me!
ARCHBISHOP. Te odeo, interfice te cum cochleare.
(trans: I hate you. Kill yourself with a spoon.)
DUKE. Must you continue to disturb us?
Out with thy news, man.
Tho we’ve no interest in thy proclamation
We’ve less in thy tribulations.
Get thee out with it.
THESPIAN. See my sweat, puddling here! See my weary legs
All a-tremble, hear the tenor of my voice rasp with
The harrowed breaths I gasp, O gasp, gasp, gasp!
Notice that in my fine acting I end each sentence
With an exclamation point!
ARCHBISHOP. Quisque comoedus est.
(trans: Everybody’s a comedian)
DUKE. See thee the blade at my side?
Shouldst not wish to wear it in thy neck,
I suggest ye speak thy news and begone!
THESPIAN. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms! (14)
DUKE. I am glad on’t; then we shall ha’ means to vent
Our musty superfruity. See, our best elders. (14)
Enter HARDLY, GOUT, and SOUBRETTE.
ARCHBISHOP. Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem!
(trans: Stand aside plebeians! I am on imperial business)
Exit ARCHBISHOP and THESPIAN.
SOUBRETTE. What’s his problem?
GOUT. Bah, who knows, sir? Never have I understood a word
That fool speaketh.
SOUBRETTE. How sir? Do I appear a man to your
Old, failing eyes?
GOUT. Mine age apparent, yet speak not of my failing eyes,
For in this body, that which pain me not, function not,
And mine eyes yet hurt, tho’ other parts which might
Recognize a woman are numb. Thou’rt a man, sir,
Or I am the youngest pup present.
SOUBRETTE. Sweet GOUT, might yet I find a way
To return feeling to your numbed parts.
But speaketh us of parts, dost not recognize
On me parts a man would not possess,
GOUT. Any parts on a woman a man would possess,
If not on him by day, then surely by night.
Yet I see none now in this room, and certainly not
Those diminutive pects thou so proudly presenteth.
SOUBRETTE. Fie, thou’rt blind, old man!
HARDLY, surely thou canst declare the truth to
All present that I am indeed a woman,
For else thy evening last hath been
Much less o’ thy interest.
HARDLY. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That had been so bedazzled with the moon
That everything I looked on seemeth green;
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father.
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. (15)
SOUBRETTE. [Aside] You’ll pay for that tonight.
[To the room] At least one I know will vouchsafe my sex.
Sister! Do enter, dear, and speak to these fools!
Enter HIRSUTE.
HIRSUTE. Good sister, noble lords. How may I serve thee?
GOUT. Good-morrow, gentle mistress; where away?
Tell me, noble lords, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty
As those two eyes become that heavenly face?
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. (15)
HIRSUTE. Toy not with me, sir.
My countenance has long been known to me as displeasing.
I’ve hair sprouting in places most unmaidenly,
And a dumpy figure better suiting the renaissance than modern culture.
You do me no favors by teasing me so,
But increase only my faulty awareness.
Prithee, bugger off with such cruel lies.
DUKE. Why, how now, GOUT, I hope thou art not mad!
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered,
And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is. (15)
GOUT. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,
Whither away, or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man whom favourable stars
Allots thee for his lovely bed-fellow. (15)
DUKE. But is that not a moustache on his face?
GOUT. Love handles, my boy.
HARDLY. Ewwwww!
Exuent.
SCENE IV
A street.
[The knocking continues]
Enter 133T HAX0R, MOROSE, and WINKEN.
133T HAX0R. For N equals one to ten, step two!
WINKEN. Wisdom beyond measure thou issueth,
Noble philosopher.
133T HAX0R. Not X and not Y is o’er X and Y.
WINKEN. Pray hold, sage, for thy thoughts are deep,
And in time may take hold, yet so quickly
Dost provide them, I cannot grasp their meaning.
133T HAX0R. I speak then to one’s complement.
MOROSE. What, to me?
133T HAX0R. Not not, sir.
MOROSE. Do you seek to astound me sir?
133T HAX0R. But to astound myself sir.
MOROSE. How so?
133T HAX0R. By astounding you, sir.
For art thou not unastoundable?
MOROSE. Unstandable mayhap. To what end though?
133T HAX0R. To end thy unastoundability,
And thus astound myself.
MOROSE. So sayest thou, yet standest thou here unastounding.
133T HAX0R. Yet to astound the unastoundable,
must I stand astounding.
MOROSE. Alas, I am now utterly confused.
133T HAX0R. And thus astounded.
WINKEN. What news, sir, of the king?
MOROSE. No more or no less dead than before,
Expecteth thou otherwise?
133T HAXOR. He hath shifted perhaps to the right,
Being but half his previous value.
WINKEN. We cannot be without a sovereign,
What action is being taken?
MOROSE. His majesty was without child or sibling,
Methinks the line of succession is unclear.
I’ve heard no quarreling among the lords though,
Mayhap a new king already hath been chosen.
133T HAXOR. We would know of it certainly.
But did he not die in drama,
Expounding upon his condition until he fell upon it?
MOROSE. Indeed, for he was a man of theater in all things.
Never would court be held without great drama and entertainment.
133T HAXOR. And if the king could not attend due to illness
Or other business?
MOROSE. Never would he subject his subjects to the absence of his theater.
All precautions were taken to ensure each show.
Rumor holds he maintained e’en an understudy for himself.
WINKEN. An understudy? For the king?
MOROSE. Hardly would he allow his absence to damage his presentations.
133T HAXOR. I expect, then sirs, we have our answer.
Exuent.
SCENE V.
Throne room.
[Pigs fly]
Enter SOUBRETTE, DUKE, HARDLY, and GOUT.
SOUBRETTE. O vast and regal, so much more
Than that which mine imagination di’st conjure.
HARDLY. What business hath ye, wench, to consider
Such a place beyond thy station as this?
DUKE. Hardly kind, sir Count. Canst blame a man
For dreaming?
SOUBRETTE. [Aside] Again, a man?
Are they blind or just dumb, I wonder.
Surely my first action shall be to fix
The education offered to nobles in this
Wretched kingdom.
[To HARDLY] As much business as any, and more than thee.
For I was the understudy of the king,
Thus my place now to resume duty in his absence.
HARDLY. Ye jest dangerously here.
SOUBRETTE. I assure you, such is the way ‘tis done.
DUKE. Mayhap I defended thee too early sir.
For surely you cannot expect us to believe this nonsense.
The king had no family, and certainly no understudy.
SOUBRETTE. Very well, for thy satisfaction
I shall prove my claim.
[As KING] ‘Tis only title thou disdain’st in me, the which
I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour’d all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty. If I be
All that is virtuous-save what thou dislik’st,
A poor physician’s daughter-thou dislik’st
Of virtue for the name; but do not so.
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer’s deed;
Where great additions swell’s, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour.(16)
GOUT. Ye gods man, that’s uncanny!
Never have I thought to hear the king’s
Words and manner spoken so clearly through
The mouth of another. Surely thou’rt truth.
DUKE. Indeed, if not the king himself disguised
Thou must be his understudy.
And with the king still sprawled upon
The floor, king thou now art.
HARDLY. Indeed not! You fools cannot truly
Believe this strumpet hath a claim to the throne.
SOUBRETTE. [Sits] For my first proclamation…
HARDLY. Hold, what business have you
On the king’s throne? Get thee down
Before I call the hangman and skip
The judge.
SOUBRETTE. Call who you like, old man.
For none hath more right presently to
Preside than I, as the king’s understudy
‘Tis my responsibility, and thine to
support my ascention and rulings.
HARDLY. I’ll not allow this! [Kills her]
GOUT. The king! You’ve slain the king!
[Kills DUKE]
HARDLY. Indeed, thine eyes fail thee, old man.
I stand here, not there. Thou’st slain
the DUKE.
GOUT. Thank thee for the correction, fiend!
[Kills him]
[Trips onto his own blade]
(1) Henry IV, Part I. Act I, Scene I
(2) The Taming of the Shrew. Act IV, Scene III
(3) Romeo and Juliet. Act V, Scene III
(4) As You Like It. Act II, Scene VII
(5) As You Like It. Act II, Scene VI
(6) Henry VI, Part I. Act V, Scene IV
(7) All’s Well That Ends Well. Act I, Scene I
(8) All’s Well That Ends Well. Act V, Scene III
(9) The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Act IV, Scene II
(10) All’s Well That Ends Well. Act II, Scene III
(11) The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra. Act V, Scene I
(12) As You Like It. Act IV, Scene I
(13) Sonnet 1
(14) The Tragedy of Coriolanus, Act I, Scene I
(15) The Taming of the Shrew. Act IV, Scene V
(16) All’s Well That Ends Well. Act II, Scene II
Note: Unless the majority of the audience actually understands Latin, translations of the ARCHBISHOP’s lines should be provided, either on stage or in the audience’s literature.