February 26, 2014 by David.Groveman
I began writing this play in High School and abandoned it in college when I discovered a complete and utter lack of plot. There are several scenes which are each funny but entirely without purpose. Some day I might take this play back up, but for now you may enjoy the prologue.
(The stage is clear except for the fountain that dominates the center. Mercutio stands with his back to the audience, peeing into the fountain. He is dressed in traditional Shakespearian garb, but it is small on him and quite filthy. He finishes and turns to the audience surprised to see them. He begrudgingly begins to speak with them, seeming a touch hungover.)
Greetings one and all, I bid you welcome to this the foulest performance that thou wilt see for some time hereafter. I am Mercutio, your host of hosts, the fairest man in all of this Milan. And though I am but a foul fool, who gently struts his bulk about like some great pompous oaf. It is also fair, for thou all art foul, thine odor dost present itself most grievously to mine nostrils, who themselves do weep to smell of you. Your looks do tell me that your mothers loved you well, but none else since have bared the burden to look your way. You laugh and jest amongst all of your disfigured host at my imperfections, which must seem perfect when set to thine own featureless features. A mob unruly and dull art thou, who paid grievously to enter such a place as this. (PAUSE) I bid you welcome, because t’is for me, that you have come, and so t’is my own fault the air has turned fouler.
(Enter Fowler, he is dressed in servants clothing, which happens to be Yellow. He wears a simple hat onto the stage)
Yes, my liege. I do obey your every whim.
Get you gone swine, I have not called thee, you come to soon and in too much haste. Thou hast forgot thine hat.
My noble sir, I am sure that this upon my brow, is sure a hat. Come my liege you must see it.
I say thou hast forgot it still, do not return hence till thou hast found it. (Pause) Should’st thou not run, I will run thee through with a dull French spoon till thou dost bleed from every orifice. Should’st thou not fly, I will smack you down with a spiny fish, and laugh at your grounded self. I will … should’st thou not fly hence … NOW- (Exit Running Fowler) I will love thee as my fool, thou foul git of impurity. I do make good jest of thee, but I have forgot myself. (Mercutio sits cross legged in the center of stage thinking) Before thou came’st I was an-
(Enter Chorus. They are three men wearing masks.)
Our aged fool has fouled his mouth beyond speech, which in itself is fair indeed, for his speech is foul and his silence fair. What ho yond ass where hast gone your tongue?
It has gone for breaking, a rest for thought and composure not for the speaking that thou dost do, which is true itself done for the doing, and not for the meaning.
I see we hath offended, and will make amends thusly, perhaps if we find your mind your tongue may return. (Aside) For indeed t’would be a task, for his mouth is five fold bigger than the mind that spurs it on.
Perhaps we should not repent our most heroic hour, for all foulness that we’ve done shall turn to even fouler.
(Enter Fowler wearing large hat)
My liege I know not if this in truth be your mind for me to wear this hat and not the other that was on my brow hence. Perhaps thou could’st show my poor pathetic self-
Everyone leave me now! I have remembered my cause, and plight for thou knowest to all be foul knaves. So hence be gone demons, foul fiends, off my stage that I may arouse these clods you see before you. (Exit all but Mercutio) Well if thou wanted a show, a show thou wilt get, and most grievously get for the getting is fair, and you being foul, shall see it as foul, but know it fair, for I do not doubt to hence call it fair, were it not fouled by all of your weary foulness, so hence I will call you fair, which is a fair remark, but foul for being untrue, and fair for being all the more courteous, and Fouler still <aside off stage> stay off fool, for I am foul and do corrupt all fairnesses into foulities, that you do hereby see before you. Mercutio the Most Noble-
Chorus (off stage)
Of Milan. (bows)