Act the Third
Freely we serve,
Because we freely love, as in our will
To love or not; in this we stand or fall.
- John Milton, Paradise
Lost
~ 3.1 ~
At Mrs. Brisby's house
|
[Enter Martin] |
|
[Martin yawns] |
Martin: |
A beauteous morn! What shall I do today, |
Teresa: |
Good morning, Martin. |
Martin: |
A good morning to thee. How didst thou sleep? |
Teresa: |
I slept a'lying down, for but a couple hours, or so I suppose. I may as well have watched me pass the time. |
Martin: |
Aye, but I slept well, until I an omen heard: an owl's hoot, a loud and piercing call, as he had found some prey to feed upon. It gave a rise me, and my sleep after was plagued by hunted dreams, most disquieting, but at the same, the morning's come. |
Teresa: |
Can the shrew possibly know half of what she says? |
Martin: |
I know not; such brave report deserves a lawyer's hand. Had she it seen? |
Teresa: |
No, she said so much. |
Martin: |
Had she heard it of reliable witnesses? |
Teresa: |
No, it is formed entirely in her inimitable mind. |
Martin: |
And where's our demon bird? |
Teresa: |
No beast nor bird of any such description I have seen, or I should know it. |
Martin: |
Has she a proof of it at all? |
Teresa: |
'Tis all conjecture, far as I can tell. |
Martin: |
Aye, she does need a lawyer's rewrite; as it is, it could
never stand. |
Cynthia: |
Good morrow, day's a'here. |
Teresa: |
Good Cynthia! We need thy scrutiny. What think'st thou of our shrew's horrible revelation yesterday? |
Cynthia: |
Remind me not, I thought 'pon it all night. |
Martin: |
And thy conclusion? |
Cynthia: |
It is but ranting, best as I can tell, |
Martin: |
Dear mother! We need thy scrutiny, as well. What think'st thou of our shrew's storytelling last eve? |
Teresa: |
Mother! |
Cynthia: |
Mother! |
Brisby: |
And no 'good morning'? |
Martin: |
Thou wilt excuse us, a good morning to thee, as well. They are astounded at thy presence here. They half expected thee not to return; I made about a farthing to the crown on 't. |
Brisby: |
Is that why Timothy is mourning me? |
Teresa: |
He did take the shrew very hardly last night. |
Brisby: |
I told him he were sick and feverish still, |
Cynthia: |
O, my poor brother! An' what has happened, to give thee shining hope? |
Teresa: |
What glorious pacifier has been provided thee? An' hast thou indeed seen the owl? |
Martin: |
I've a ravenous hunger. An' hast thou something in mind to feed us? |
Brisby: |
All's provided for. Though I'll be off again soon. |
Martin: |
Ah, 'tis just like a haunt to appear in fleeting apparition, give us hope, and disappear in air 'gain. |
Brisby: |
I must meet the substance and actuation of our moving. |
Martin: |
Art thou not acquainted of our feet? |
Teresa: |
[to Martin] O, stay a minute. |
Brisby: |
I've seen the Owl, the bird of famed repute. |
Martin: |
Of what nature is this wonderful advice? Of what specifics? |
Brisby: |
To that, I cannot tell, I'm bound to keep |
Cynthia: |
Who are they? I am confused. |
Brisby: |
I cannot utter more than they are they, |
Martin: |
More shades, more mysterious creepings and soundings in night, more trifles! Teresa, hold out in braveness, we'll be moved by shadows! We're entrusted to rumours and unknown certainties! But let us not doubt our brave mother. Let us have faith, but also strong chins. |
Brisby: |
The Owl has said it, and I need no more, |
Martin: |
A new diversion! |
Shrew: |
O, a miserable morn has dawned again! |
Brisby: |
It's a beautiful morn. |
Martin: |
'Tis grand. |
Cynthia: |
Glorious. |
Teresa: |
Marvelous. |
Shrew: |
Replies in number four befall my ear. |
Martin: |
Nay, 'tis simply Cynthia, Teresa, I, and my mother. Timothy has not lighted out of bed; nay, he's feverish and under the strange delusion that his mother is dead. |
Shrew: |
Ay, the poor child. Reft and rancored's he. |
Martin: |
'Tis good my mother's here to comfort him. |
Shrew: |
So stands she always, in our memory |
Martin: |
[aside] 'Tis cold comfort, just as you would say. |
Teresa: |
[aside, to Martin] What's this about? |
Martin: |
[aside, to Teresa] I've heard of this afore. The poor devils as contract this disease are just as the shrew: they believe as they will, and play infidel affronted by the firmest proofs. They're one pole as destroys this unhappy world, a stifled and stifling party. She thinks our mother is dead still, and I'd put good money down she'll continue thinking it past all hilarity. |
Teresa: |
[aside, to Martin] If I know the shrew, a good teasing is the clearest medicine for this disease, and it would be worth the try, if all it yields is a giggle. |
Martin: |
Then we shall as said. Good shrew, pray, who is speaking to you? |
Shrew: |
I'd know thy speaking disposition if |
Teresa: |
Good guess, gentle shrew. Who am I, pray tell? |
Shrew: |
Thou art Teresa, first yield of the fruits |
Cynthia: |
This is not such a difficult game, good shrew. But can you identify me? This is harder, good parent. Try me. |
Shrew: |
Thy voice I'd recognize the first of all. |
Brisby: |
Now comes the test, Martin, and we shall see if thy sources are as good and accurate as mine. Good shrew, who speaks to thee now? |
Shrew: |
I'd think thee Martin, thou art next in turn |
Cynthia: |
Good heavens. |
Martin: |
She's no stranger to me, good shrew. She's my mother. |
Shrew: |
Ah, she is known to thee? A friend as knows thy ken? |
Martin: |
She's my mother, and Teresa's, Cynthia's, and Timothy's also. |
Shrew: |
I know no relations to all four of you as are alive. Jonathan and his wife are all I can honestly associate with all of... may mercy be granted upon us, our kindred and our souls! |
Brisby: |
Does she see? |
Martin: |
I don't know. |
Teresa: |
She frightens me. |
Shrew: |
The shades walk! The spectres speak! 'Tis an ill portent! Hurry, children, come to me for security! |
Martin: |
'Tis terrific. Shadows shall move us and whimpering shall shield us. I hope we shall ever see summer, or even mid-spring. |
Brisby: |
My heart beats still, good shrew, I am alive! |
Shrew: |
Aye, of course; how hast thou come here? Didst thou find thy better mind, and not go to the owl, as thou spoke yesterday morning? |
Brisby: |
I've come to the owl and returned again! |
Shrew: |
To the owl! |
Brisby: |
And away again, I must be off. |
Teresa: |
She goes to 'they.' |
Martin: |
She goes to them. |
Shrew: |
I'm not sure who you mean by 'them' and 'they', |
Brisby: |
That thou canst him tell, though it were not true. |
Martin: |
The owl has told her how to move us all. |
Shrew: |
Indeed? This news falls light upon my ears, |
Cynthia: |
Thou wilt be staying, while mother is away? |
Teresa: |
We shall a watching need. |
Martin: |
O, figs and swill! |
Brisby: |
The children need a willing eye to watch. |
Shrew: |
Dear Martin, worry not, I'll fill thy trough. |
Brisby: |
Good, then, I'll be off, and I'll see thee soon. |
Shrew: |
Well, I shan't be bothered. Such rebukes! I only told thy children what I thought was true. |
Brisby: |
And thou hast displayed no matter of tact or reason at all. |
Martin: |
As she believes tact and reason are qualities of no matter. |
Brisby: |
Hush, Martin. |
Shrew: |
He has a barbed tongue; I should think he is forked at the wrong end. |
Teresa: |
He loves thee. How else should he make such a display of his character? |
Martin: |
Thistles! |
Teresa: |
Yea, Martin, we know thou art beautiful. |
Brisby: |
I love thee all. Think not, but that I should |
Shrew: |
Good-bye, I'll see thee soon. |
Cynthia: |
Good-bye, good luck, and good cheer, mother, thou shalt help Timmy up yet. |
Martin: |
Farewell, have thee a good time, see many things, and bid King Arthur a 'good morrow' for me. |
Teresa: |
See them, whoever they are, and as this earth moves, move them about, and move us about. Keep us in safety, and faith, mother, good faith. |
Brisby: |
Faith, indeed. Good-bye, mind the shrew, and worry not a
minim! |
Shrew: |
So, off she goes. |
Martin: |
May I the dais have? |
Shrew: |
Pray, speak thy mind. |
Martin: |
Last night my mother suffered cold at the |
~ 3.2 ~
At the rosebush
|
[Enter Brisby] |
Brisby: |
How, halloo? I've come, and I hope to speak to somebody.
I've seen the owl! There's someone here, I know! |
Ages: |
Is't you again, Brisby? |
Brisby: |
O, a friendly voice! Good Ages, thou art there? |
Ages: |
I am here! Art thou here? Or, I mean, why art thou here? |
Brisby: |
I've come to seek Nicodemus' help. |
Ages: |
Where did you pick up his name? It cannot be, dear Brisby. |
Brisby: |
I've come on the owl's directions. |
Ages: |
Is that the case? Unless thou hast something of great importance I can't do anything for it, even with the owl's approval. This bush is no joke; it is to be jealous of. |
Brisby: |
Good Ages, trust thou not our friendly bonds? |
Ages: |
Aye, but shall I let thee for petty cause |
Brisby: |
I have not come here on capricious act, |
Ages: |
I am leary yet. What car'st thou for this bush? Why think'st thou there is any help within? |
Brisby: |
Dear Ages, this is the time of the plow! We must move my son, and should he be moved... should we move... O, Ages, my hope depends on entering this bush! |
Ages: |
Then I prognose thy disheartenment. |
Brisby: |
Good Ages, think what you are saying! Does a doorman take jus gladii upon himself? If it is an offense for me to enter, show me in and let me be thrown out! Is the cost of admittance into this bush a life? Ages, show me in, else I've nowhere to seek, and Timothy is in mortal danger! Would you doom my son? |
Ages: |
Well then, I shall you to the head rat see, |
Brisby: |
What does this mean? Thou know'st me, good friend, as much as thou lik'st, anyway. |
Ages: |
Before thou goest further in, I demand... no, I supplicate thee, as a friend, as a kinsman, as the watcher of thy children, as the doctor of thine and their ills, tell me now, I beg, lay to me who thou art! For once thou seest what thou wilt see, and once thou'st heard what thou wilt hear in this place, thou wilt never speak to me the same, and I would know thee as thou wilt know me, and thou might'st indeed come out completely changed, and in that case I would preserve who thou wert. I prithee, first, but hear me! |
Brisby: |
I hear, and I must answer thee thy plea. |
Ages: |
Good friend, and taker in my each design, |
Brisby: |
I've... I'm... |
Ages: |
Speak easily, good breath; wind lightly, sweet pipe; breeze calmly, warm current. What I ask is what thou art, the most natural thing as should come without effort. If thou art truly but thy cares, thou shalt indeed be lost for good in our care. Thou wilt them quickly forget in their solution, and in thy problem's solution, thou wilt be lost in the solution. What, a glisten? God bless you for brine! Thou hast scoured thy cheeks with it; I'd not have thee drown decomposed in sevenfold pools of it now! |
Brisby: |
What have I done, to come to thee? I'm beset upon with accosting; thou seek'st only what I am; how do I know myself to thee? 'Tis hard to describe something one's never seen; 'tis hard to bring to light things which one know'st himself only in shadows; 'tis hard to open a heart filled with worry, for protected designs. I cannot make my mind's intricacies known to thee, for I myself do not them know; I cannot unroll the map of my imagination to thee, for in every day's mulling I come upon thoughts which expand its frontiers, extend its parchment, and push the unknown lands at the edge into full familiarity; every night's flying dreams broaden my sight, and extend my vision to orange horizons beyond the bounds of my former speculation. Every day brings another bristle to my brush and a new grain of pigment to my paint, so every day I make my strokes broader and brighter than the day before. Every day's rising sun, as it reddens my visage with its shine and gilds the world in golden light, reveals things about myself to me I never knew. I am a book with new leaves being pasted in at both ends, especially in this tumultuous time, with new uncoverings at every corner, new annotations and footnotes to scrawl into the margins of chapters I believed were long since completed in my history, but all is not yet said. I am, then, the study of a lifetime; I have not yet mastered me. When one is so deep a well of care and want and lack as I am, it can only be so. There are depths in me only God can fathom. |
Ages: |
Aye, aye, in us all. Thou art a well of want, and thou wantest well. Live, dear Brisby, be brave, take heart, carry thyself through, and survive this fire. It burns with an unnatural fierceness, as thou shalt hear. |
Brisby: |
I am full of encouragement and well-wishers today. All that is left is for the cat to send warm regards. |
Ages: |
He sends them thee in giving thee thy problems to begin with. Death to his kin and litter! An end to his health and worth! |
Brisby: |
Thou sound'st like a braggart who wouldst slander the dragon to his face. |
Ages: |
Aye, I've fought the dragon before, though of that thou
wilt hear also, and that story shall bring thee unknown pains. Come, I shall
lead thee to Nicodemus, although we must first go to the Chamber; I fear I
shall be late for the rat's council meeting; there's no helping it; I shall
introduce thee to those who shall be there. Come along, tarry not behind!
Stay by my side, steady me if I should fall. I'll tell thee of the limp
later, or thou shalt hear of it, though that, too, is tinged with hurt, and
makes its paint of blood red, as beats by a loving, caring, and compassionate
heart. Thou shar'st that heart, and its scarlet token as is coloured by its
lack is Didymus' prize. Be then thou of a good heart as thou hast and did
have. |
Justin: |
A salute to age! |
Ages: |
A salute to youth! |
Both: |
And a salute to all that passes in between! |
Ages: |
[to Brisby] Ah, this is noble Justin, who brings the silly, adventurous lad out of everyone, even the cadger from the old codger. |
Justin: |
Thou art but Youth exponentiated. |
Ages: |
And he is a charmer, with a mouth of sugared words and a throat full of carefully-packaged confections. |
Justin: |
I only hope my words do not mislead my actions. |
Ages: |
You're one to trust, Justin. You haven't met my companion, acquaintance and twained friend through and through; I am pleased to introduce her to you: this is Mrs. Jonathan Brisby, and she has come through many inconveniences for her sick child. As she is an old friend of the Rats in name, if not in confidentiality, she is to be helped in any manner possible. |
Justin: |
So it shall be. |
Ages: |
So it shall be, indeed. |
Brisby: |
I'm glad of meeting you in such familiar circumstance, even though what I know is suddenly ensconced in such bewildering wonder. It's all very homey, as Ages is here, and to meet you, friend of my husband, is a pleasure. |
Justin: |
And a recovered jigsaw piece; I've heard much of you, an' never seen you. Things have been very active adays, I believe, for both of us. |
Brisby: |
What's a day for doing, if it isn't for friends and family? |
Justin: |
And for the needy: and when the two of them interlope, as they do now, it is indeed a day for most solemn and urgent action, even though it may be cloaked in the warm and well-worn custom and attainments of home. |
Jenner: |
[away, in song] |
Brisby: |
Such wholesomeness referenced to in ignoble meaning! |
Justin: |
Aye, that is our Jenner, to the word. |
Ages: |
Jenner, hail! What is the meaning of these pottle-songs? |
Jenner: |
[in song] |
Ages: |
Bloodied savagery! |
Jenner: |
Who in all history has ever attained something of worth without blood? |
Ages: |
Who has ever kept something of worth without civilised deliberation? |
Jenner: |
Stop your words: they are only wise in the world of men. I do not know if either of you have noticed yet, but it is plainly so that we are indeed rats, and not men; we steal what we need. We live by Nature's law. |
Justin: |
Natural law is the prompting of our morality. |
Jenner: |
Too many philosophies, dear young Justin, eager and too-educated! You've the means, but not the sense. How you've taken the rank of Captain of the Guard defies my comprehension. |
Justin: |
I'd know not, and guess Nicodemus' happy generosity. He seems to think the qualities of a captain are in me; perhaps he has a distorted looking-glass. |
Jenner: |
That is exactly what I would suppose. |
Justin: |
I am sorry; I have not introduced you to this strange guest. This is the wife of our belated Jonathan Brisby. |
Jenner: |
It is a pleasure. |
Justin: |
This is Jenner, an addition to our ranks. He's not the Captain of the Guard, and a little sour there; I'd not talk about it longer. He is the reason last night's council was postponed, of that's a story you'd not want ear of. He is, however, an imposing edifice to genteelness. He's a stalwart fellow, although I suppose at times a little hard to reach. I'm never too sure how he thinks. |
Brisby: |
That is to be easily understood. The difference 'tween stolid and solid is but a common letter. |
Jenner: |
Aye, the letter before you. |
Brisby: |
Nay, the letter in front of thee. |
Jenner: |
Retorts! Nobody answers Jenner; Jenner speaks the truth as it is, plain, but often unseen, with no elaboration. Those as would answer him, would add to the unembellished truth, and are therefore full of falsehood. |
Ages: |
Quiet, Jenner! If you meant to impress the good lady with a show of your formidable wit, you've done it. If she returns a like volley displaying a spark of intelligence her own, it is not yours to glee impertinent on. |
Jenner: |
True, I apologize. 'Twere, indeed, the indication of some learning. Intelligence I know not. |
Brisby: |
Pray, could you tell, why Fate wears a thickly-gilded crown? |
Jenner: |
I would imagine it is because Fate has a thick head. |
Brisby: |
Nay, I meant the regal crown, a laurel, gilded of gold. |
Jenner: |
Ah! I see. 'Tis true that Fate wears such a gilded crown, mayhap to enfortress a gleaming tonsure. 'Tis also true that the gilded crown, however brightly it shines of wealth, is tin to the heart. |
Brisby: |
Tin lacks a heart. |
Jenner: |
Alack! and so does Fate. Canst thou read? |
Brisby: |
Yea, my husband taught me, although I never took to it well. |
Jenner: |
Thou hast displayed a body of knowledge unusual in thy kind, although thou clearly lack the means to substantiate it. Gentlemen, what we have here is a crockery shrine, or a posterboard strongbox. If we scratch her wax wrapper, there's a gleam of gold beneath. This, dear companions, is but an educated trick, worth no further play; I'd spend no more time on her. |
Ages: |
Jenner! Take some quieting measures, for I cannot stand thy elocutions; they reveal vile exudings at thy side seams. Thou art coming apart. |
Jenner: |
In pieces, in partitions, I should hope. |
Ages: |
If there were any other way to come apart, Jenner, I'm sure thou wouldst be the one to invent it, thou dissenter! Thou crooked, vile sporter, parader! |
Jenner: |
I see I am not well liked. |
Ages: |
Thou art not... |
Justin: |
Nay, stay! 'Twould be a poor fighting match, and I'd not watch. How stands the plan to your mind, Jenner? |
Jenner: |
Still sickly, I'm afraid. I cannot see a benefit, there's a hard labour to perform, and we cannot even receive Hercules' reward. When we're finished, we'll have all we have now. Cannot you see the deficiency in your account? |
Justin: |
All's in balance. |
Jenner: |
Nay, all's imbalance. |
Justin: |
Same and sure enough. |
Jenner: |
Nay, some and sour enough. Thou hast not an ear for unheard wisdoms. |
Ages: |
Aye, games! Thou hast a twisting mind, Jenner, a gift for distortion! |
Jenner: |
I've a contemplative, content, and conservative mind, dear Ages. I am quite happy to live as we have, as we have to live. |
Justin: |
Not fairly. |
Jenner: |
O, quite fairly, in a grand and manifest diversity, any food or product of the ground as we desire. We've a vast cornucopia of goods, quite a fair assortment, to say the least. |
Ages: |
Jenner, relax thy tongue! Thou hast said nothing yet in the least, but everything with a hidden dissension, or cunning manoeuver of a tactician's plot. Thou conniver! Thou hidden agenda! |
Jenner: |
I see I am not only disliked, but rather contemptible. |
Ages: |
Flattering with 'rather' is a common ploy. |
Jenner: |
I see I am not only disliked, but of little favour, then. |
Ages: |
Favour is a darling employance of politcians. |
Jenner: |
Then I am a base swine, a conniving, wretched, perverse, slime-willing, bloodthirsty, degenerate blackguard. |
Ages: |
You even have a talent with muck. I see, Jenner, that your mother raised you well. |
Justin: |
Jeers and common cat-calls are a cowardly means to duel. Carousing fists drunkenly mumbling threats and invocations out of a stupor are neither meaningful nor noble. I'd challenge you both to stow the admirable regaling and save your disgust for council, when you may delineate it in a slow, deliberating, calculated fashion so as to cause the most pain to the other. Such odd organs, mouths! They play fugues out of meaning, and lay the strongest sforzandos in a pastorale. Cripple not my ears, but make me content in this, at least. |
Ages: |
Well then, thy rebuke is good enough for me, dear Justin. |
Jenner: |
In council hall shall I see thee again, |
Justin: |
Thy stars' swan song is unheard, Jenner. |
Brisby: |
No star stands eternally, Jenner. |
Ages: |
Soulless wretch! Thou think'st but of thyself. |
Jenner: |
So I have my insults from the giddy boy with glory on his head and the sightless old fool who leans on the pillar of a wise mutterer. I shall win an easy victory in council today. Good day. |
Ages: |
It is, indeed, a good day when foul night takes his leave. |
Jenner: |
Then address me as Foul Sir Jenner, and let the moon
admire my squirehood, and the dawn attend to my goings out. Such a compliment
after such abhorrence! May the day be good, indeed. |
Ages: |
His words are flowery, but baseless and hollow. Nothing is certain in the way one appears; that is the object lesson. |
Justin: |
I'm afraid Jenner believes as he does as strongly as we believe as we do. |
Ages: |
But Nicodemus believes he can be saved yet. We shall see. |
Brisby: |
When starts the council; when can we discuss |
Ages: |
Good child, council first, but we'll allow |
Justin: |
Such speech contemptible doth fly from open lips |
Brisby: |
I'll till a smile there, and yet, we'll see |
Rats: |
[off-stage] All hear, O, council! Council has
begun! |
Ages: |
All here, O hear! May we no longer fend, |
Justin: |
Our conscience binds our troubled hearts in low |
Rats: |
We'll draw a plan to leave our coddling knee |
Brisby: |
My word! and forth they leave, in shouts of state, |
~ 3.3 ~
In the Rats' council hall
|
[Enter Ages, Justin, and rats, and Jenner and Sullivan from another way] |
Ages: |
The council has begun, and of proceeds |
Nicodemus: |
The council of the Rats is under way. |
Brisby: |
[aside] Good Ages! I'd supposed you'd lost your crutch. |
Ages: |
[aside, to Brisby] Nay, not lost yet, still
standing up besides. |
Brisby: |
Aye, I am here, not lost yet. I deigned to go where the people were. |
Ages: |
Here are but thoughts, and speakers chosen so |
Nicodemus: |
The speaker's Jenner, take ye to the floor, |
Sullivan: |
Oyez! Jenner takes the floor! |
Jenner: |
Good rats, and masters of our own estates, |
Nicodemus: |
A most impassioned crying for your case. |
Justin: |
I make the motion, Nicodemus. |
Nicodemus: |
The Captain of the Guard will statement make. |
Justin: |
Good Council, you in chamber came today, |
Jenner: |
Futility's in things posterity! |
Brisby: |
[aside] He goes again! A rat of pouting moans |
Jenner: |
The words of sense shall drill with touching bore, |
Nicodemus: |
Good Jenner's said the same he's said before, |
Ages: |
I'll make the motion, and quickly! |
Nicodemus: |
A gyrate welcome, and a frenzied shout, |
Ages: |
Good fellow member of our revered state, |
Jenner: |
Such allegory! Mind not my hot friend, |
Nicodemus: |
Another speech about my overthrow, |
Jenner: |
Good fancier of all things curious, |
Brisby: |
What does this mean? |
Justin: |
Oho! He's decided the trick is worth the play, after all. |
Ages: |
Aye, and trump is hearts. |
Brisby: |
[to Jenner] Why, I'm... |
Jenner: |
Step forward! None can hear you. |
Jenner: |
[aside] Here is thy chance to lay thy designs out. |
Brisby: |
[aside] Why, I'm deeply grateful!... |
Jenner: |
[aside] Posh! Just tell them who thou art, what thou mean'st, and anything else. |
Brisby: |
[aside] Thank you. |
Nicodemus: |
The winds are not here to make of a boon, |
Brisby: |
I've come for you, Nicodemus. To your braky bush I've come, in the hope that 'tween thorns and beneath briers, I might find help... help the Owl has ordained for me. Help that Ages has prescribed me. Hope I'm promised... hope for Timmy, ill at home, swathed in spring... deadly spring. Its melting erlking has him an object of cruel recreation. He's ill, Nicodemus. He's pneumonia. But we must move from our winter home, for the farmer is coming to plow the earth up again... we'll not live through't, not without help. He cannot move, Nicodemus! Where else shall I turn? |
Jenner: |
Ha! |
Brisby: |
[to Jenner] What? |
Jenner: |
I said, 'ha!', and if you'd like, I'll say it again: ha! |
Nicodemus: |
What say you, Jenner, to this mother's plea? |
Jenner: |
I listed caref'lly to her
colourful words, |
Brisby: |
[aside] O, mercy! Is that how it is? |
Jenner: |
And now, good staller, I'll advise thee well. |
Brisby: |
I ne'er did hold you suspect, I ne'er did hold you suspect as... |
Jenner: |
Ah, thou trust! Thou shalt be readily hurt, |
Brisby: |
Take up the sums of a declining health, |
Jenner: |
It's more? It's less! And thou art less, indeed! |
Brisby: |
Never as... nay, ne'er as suspect as thy... |
Jenner: |
Now, what? Never as suspect as what? |
Brisby: |
Thy friends!, who found suspicion in each turn |
Jenner: |
Now, be thee gone! |
Brisby: |
I've... what... |
Jenner: |
Avaunt, exeunt, be off, depart, take leave! |
Brisby: |
Thou art not as thou seem, thou winding pipe! |
Jenner: |
How gleg of you. Bailiff, come see her out! |
Brisby: |
I am away, but Jenner, keep in mind, |
Nicodemus: |
Thou'st ruled the day in council, Jenner, for |
Jenner: |
I've done as my kind should deserve to do. |
Ages: |
Thy body's politic, as thy mouth, thy arms, thy legs, thy teeth, thy cancerous mind are all of one accord - to thy wealth! |
Jenner: |
A toast I sing every day, good Ages. |
Ages: |
Thy body politic nearly trampled Madame Brisby with its legion demons. |
Jenner: |
So, it is true that my cancerous mind has a claw to it. Ah, but I do what is required. |
Ages: |
Thou villain! Thou welting horsefly! Thou green-backed, vilifying... |
Justin: |
Ages! Not here in council. |
Ages: |
Thou'rt right, I'll save it for a more seeing body. |
Jenner: |
Or an epigram calendar. May we go on? |
Nicodemus: |
Nay, not with you in forefront anymore. |
Jenner: |
Aye, nae. |
Nicodemus: |
Then leave thee from thy pedestal, where from |
Jenner: |
I'll fly down from my newly-branded coop, |
Ages: |
Thy thoughts doth like thyself, pray, weigh thee down |
Justin: |
[to Jenner] Thou hast the floor no more, thou
must step down! |
Nicodemus: |
The floor is empty, all our ears are keen |
Ages: |
Can I motion that we close the session? |
Justin: |
First you must provide proof it e'er was apert. |
Jenner: |
I second. Let the meeting be closed. |
Nicodemus: |
Good scrivener, thou page, hast thou today? |
Rat: |
Yea, it's a sorry story. |
Nicodemus: |
Our words are written down. We must so live |
~ 3.4 ~
In the rosebush's hollows
|
[Enter Jenner with Sullivan] |
Jenner: |
I'd say that was the finest Council we've had since we've last finished one. |
Sullivan: |
I'd say it were cut a bit short by thy lashing scourge. |
Jenner: |
What? An' what were that? It was finished! They would not agree. |
Sullivan: |
Jenner, we will move! It is decided! |
Jenner: |
Aye, but I've a brave recourse. Do you think my sword's to prick little pests? Do you think it a sultan's scimitar, to slice a pillow a'twain? Perhaps a butterknife, fit for slicing no resistance firmer than muffins? |
Sullivan: |
Nay, it's a hot, impatient blade, whose only fit scabbard's in thy enemies. |
Jenner: |
Well answered! |
Sullivan: |
But is it for intimidation, as thou used it for in Chamber? |
Jenner: |
You saw the sword! |
Sullivan: |
No, but I knew it was there. Thou hast it hidden from all in the council; they were transfixed on the dangerous acrobatics of thy mouth. But the poor woman! |
Jenner: |
O, she'll live, if she doesn't die. Hark! wait a moment. What's that sound? |
Sullivan: |
What, that? |
Jenner: |
Soft as my foot! That's an undampered sobbing if I've
heard it. |
Sullivan: |
Jenner, are you saying what I am hearing? |
Jenner: |
Quite possibly. Now, quiet! |
Sullivan: |
Jenner, thou art waving thy hands in the air, and I know not what to make of the breeze. |
Jenner: |
Soft! Do you not hear it getting louder? That is what I am motioning. Louder, wail! Yea, I'll show Ages an assortment of keys! |
Sullivan: |
Of course she's louder; she's getting nearer, Jenner! |
Jenner: |
O, yea, we shall then now be off! |
Sullivan: |
She'll set you to flight, Jenner? |
Jenner: |
You wanted to be away, let's away! |
Brisby: |
Why can I not just leave...? There's no comfort for me
here, no, none for Timmy either, and I've left him alone when I should keep
him close in charge. I've an option. Yea, somebody else can help, there's a
less troublesome... O, that's silly talk. It's not for naught that the Owl
directed me here; it's not for naught that I was brought before that infernal
council body. But one thing's sure, not e'en Ages is here for me, and I know
not where Nicodemus is. |
Patrick: |
Aye, halloo, hail, ho! Dear abba, I've my prey! Tally-ho! To the hunt! Away and off! Let us ride to the capture, and swiftly! |
Brisby: |
Who are you? |
Patrick: |
I, dear victim, am Patrick, Nicodemus' clown, and yea, his only son. |
Brisby: |
His son? |
Patrick: |
Yea, I'm the leader's son, which rightly means |
Brisby: |
I've heard that question once before today, and I'm just beginning to understand it. I don't know; I've always been what I was at the moment. |
Patrick: |
Are you the widow of Jonathan Brisby? For such a one I am to find. |
Brisby: |
Yes, I am. |
Patrick: |
A glad start! or sad, perhaps. And you've an ill and a child? |
Brisby: |
Yea, my son is deathly ill. |
Patrick: |
My father sent me first to answer your venturesome riddles. He said you're a veritable chestnut tree, raining riddles upon any poor pondering soul as came for your shelter on your grassy hillock, to hear the wind. He said you're full of curious conundrums and contradiction; I have come to witness your prodigy. |
Brisby: |
He did not mention your prolix paradox? Such a wordy fool! |
Patrick: |
I've a rare and selected breed of wordwrighting. I'll turn a phrase on his head quick enough to... well, I'm a jester. What could you expect? |
Brisby: |
You're a pantaloon to give any common loon uppance. |
Patrick: |
Aye, don't pun! Last night I was harangued by the punning muse in my sleep, and as I rose, she had me earnestly believing that an impress was an empress, a garnet a small garn, a beach a tree, and a herald an old growth beard. But my father sent me first to proffer comfort in the form of lunacy, and secondly to usher you to him personally. I know his chamber, and Ages is away on a mission of importance, with the captain along. You must be attended to, dear mother! You must be attended to! |
Brisby: |
I'm not forgotten? |
Patrick: |
Forgotten! Such a foolish word: as long as you've children, you're ne'er forgotten, you're in their prayers at the moment. But they must know you to forget you, and to know you is to always remember you. I never knew my mother. She made a grand exchange: her life for mine, and Death's commission on the trade was an hour of pain. This puts me in deficiency, but I would set the records even by sparing you woe. |
Brisby: |
If Death owed me a favor, I'd ask for greater things. |
Patrick: |
Aye, but he's a stupendous haggler. If righteous Hezekiah could get but twenty years, with oscillations of sundials aside and divine favour, I could hope to get a frayed shoelace for myself. But for you, perhaps more. What say you? A mother's misery for a mother's misery. Should the ransom be made? |
Brisby: |
Such a sour trade for you. But what know you of me? |
Patrick: |
What I've gleaned from our scribe's foul notes. I know you'd plea the sun and the wind for your child; how if Sister Moon? But of your being, I know so little. Perhaps this will clear it up. What do you do, when you've no dire preoccupation to consume you? |
Brisby: |
What is the lot and privilege of all |
Patrick: |
So it's so, good Brisby, and I'll ask, what riddles am I to unravel for you? |
Brisby: |
O, riddles? I suppose... can you tell me why Fate wears a thick-gilded crown? |
Patrick: |
Ah, what? |
Brisby: |
A friend of mine, a shrew; she said it in hotness: how Doom is found in both Death's toothsome maw and Fate's thickly gilded crown. |
Patrick: |
This shrew of yours 's a sage, with more teeth than Death's grin. Let me speak of Doom. Why do you suppose the spring has come? |
Brisby: |
I've ne'er reflected upon that before. |
Patrick: |
Is it in part to bring you here? |
Brisby: |
Perhaps, in part, though a small part, I'd suppose. |
Patrick: |
And do you know of our story, and the story of your husband? |
Brisby: |
My husband's story I've taken up much in the middle, and of you I'd know more. |
Patrick: |
Then you must the story hear, though I'm not to tell it. My father shall, if you will come with me, and the clown shall see you to the leader's chamber, as it were. |
Brisby: |
As it shall be, you mean; the son shall see me to the father. |
Patrick: |
The rat shall see you to the rat, when all the scrapings are off. |
Brisby: |
Then take me to the leader, Nicodemus, |
~ 3.5 ~
In Nicodemus' chamber
|
[Enter Patrick and Brisby] |
Patrick: |
Well, naught to do but wait. |
Brisby: |
It would be empty when I came here. |
Patrick: |
It's not empty: it contains us! |
Brisby: |
I'll keep it to myself no longer. |
Patrick: |
What were that? |
Brisby: |
Good Patrick, you know of the ill which lurks |
Patrick: |
Evil is seen by the loftiest stars, and where's the host to fight? Aye, if it's a battle, it's death, and out of death's watering blood, more evil springs up with thicker thorns. My father knows the ill of which you speak by name: he's high in rank, and not discreet. |
Brisby: |
And naught's to do for it? |
Patrick: |
No, something is, |
Brisby: |
To speak on high's to speak as those would follow. |
Patrick: |
Yea, it is so. |
Brisby: |
I will not hide my work, nay, I shall be |
Patrick: |
By Loki's beard, aye! It is a most ill situation, and Father is restlessly considering it, disheveling himself for't, forswearing food and losing sleep for't. His evil mustn't break our plan; his evil mustn't cross yourself. |
Brisby: |
I don't know what to make of one like Jenner. I'd say there is no safe pigeonhole to keep him. |
Patrick: |
Rarely ever is a condor kept in a canary's cage, however,
a canary's cage might feasiblely hold a nobler bird. |
Brisby: |
'Tis Nicodemus! O, shall we hail? |
Patrick: |
Nay, not yet. Let him wobble to his chair. Watch his motions. |
Brisby: |
He seems so old. |
Patrick: |
You'd be surprised. He's seen things most of us have never let our minds fear. He's struggling under the weight of the day; his burden's his limp. |
Nicodemus: |
My Patrick, hast thou brought her unto me? |
Patrick: |
She's come, she's here. |
Nicodemus: |
I cannot see her; motion her to me, |
Brisby: |
Here is the trial of my day. |
Nicodemus: |
I've never seen thee, confidante of woe, |
Brisby: |
Thou seest me, Nicodemus, may thy heart |
Nicodemus: |
I heard thee say it, and I know thy mind |
Brisby: |
And my husband? |
Nicodemus: |
He paved the clearing road for our retreat, |
Brisby: |
That is a tale. But, I'd know him when I knew him, his exploits beforehand are but the makings of him whom I loved and could speak to, and I could guess what he was before. |
Nicodemus: |
His charcoaled, mid-cleaved branch of ill-used time, |
Brisby: |
My Latin's not good. |
Nicodemus: |
I've Wycliffe for a friend, I condescend |
Brisby: |
That reassures me. |
Nicodemus: |
The cat is all our fates, in diverse form, |
Brisby: |
I shall, O, Nicodemus, I shall! But, O, Nicodemus, why was this ever hidden? Pray, how was this ever hidden? |
Nicodemus: |
'Tis hidden in that inviolable sea, |
Patrick: |
[to Brisby] You have heard from him what you came
to know |
Brisby: |
What part play I? |
Patrick: |
Aye, is that yet assigned? |
~ * ~