Act I

Scene I. Rancor Castle, situated along the coast, in a backward, post-Elizabethan, European country.
Pedagogue in courtyard with Lord Demagogue.

Demagogue. Pedagogue! Come here! I have a bone to pick with you!

Pedagogue. What is it, my lord? What vexes you so?

Demagogue. It is my son, Noname. You are filling his head with rubbish!

Pedagogue. How so, my lord? I am only educating him!

Demagogue. Don’t pull the wool over my eyes! I know exactly what you are doing. You are straying him from his purpose! He must be tutored in the ways of lords so he can take over when I pass on. Poetry and literature is not accomplishing this! I want it stopped, immediately! Is this understood?

Pedagogue. Yes, my lord, but I feel that it’s a mistake to keep him from broadening his horizons. In addition to his training in Feudalism, it is also necessary to train him in the arts, as well. Let us not promote his shallowness. His self-esteem is quite low, and his name is not helping any.

Demagogue. What do you mean? "Noname" is a very honorable name; Kings before him were called such! How dare you insult my family!

Pedagogue. Allow me to correct you, my lord. Only one King was named such, but not exactly in the same sense as your son's name . . . his name was King Nonnon! Not Noname!

Demagogue. It’s close enough; it’s all the same! I am always right, never correct me again!

[Lord Demagogue storms out of courtyard]

Pedagogue. Oh! What a strange little man. I am sure he means not what he says. His son is in good hands with my guidance! [Exit Pedagogue]

Scene II. Lady Melancholia in her bedroom, looking into a mirror.

Lady Melancholia. Oh, woe is I. I look into this mirror and I see sorrow. How sad I am. Every time the sun rises and sets, I contemplate my ending. My life passes before my tired eyes, only to be blurred and incomprehensible. Many a tissue I wet and many a bucket I fill, but, to no avail, no one seems to care. Oh! My mirror on the wall, is the reflection you hold my reciprocal self? Do you hold the key to my alternate ego? My other name? Nay, I didn’t think so . . . my name is still Lady Melancholia. Even though it is pleasant to ponder, I become depressed when realizing the reality. Oh, woe is I.

[Knock on door]

Come in, whoever you may be . . .

[Door opens, Delphinium enters]

Delphinium. Mother dearest, may I invite my friend over, Miss Damsel? I have to tell her many a thing that bothers my mind.

Lady Melancholia. I suppose so. Send a messenger to fetch her.

[Delphinium notices tears]

Delphinium. What is the matter, dearest mother?

Lady Melancholia. Oh, Delphinium, when you get married and have children of your own, you will understand. The problems of the world will unfold before you and a new insight will appear. An insight that your innocent mind will soon find depressing, and you will remain in a state of . . . oh, what do they call it . . . it’s a disease of some sort . . . a mental disorder characterized by feelings of dejection and withdraw. It is at the tip of my tongue . . .

Delphinium. It’s called "melancholia," mother.

Lady Melancholia. Quit toying with me! I am not in the mood for your jokes and wit!

Delphinium. But that is what it’s called, mother. I read a book on it.

Lady Melancholia. I feel a bout of depression coming on, I advise you to fetch your friend before I change my mind.

Delphinium. Very well, mother. I will fetch her immediately! [Delphinium exits]

Lady Melancholia. Melancholia, How odd, the name of the disease is the same as my name, what a coincidence! No, it cannot be, my witty daughter is toying with me. But, it’s depressing still that she pokes fun at my condition . . . [Continues to stare into the mirror and cry]

Scene III. In Library, Pedagogue tells Noname about the encounter with Lord Demagogue.

Pedagogue. Noname, I see that you are reading your assignment.

Noname. Yes, Knowledgeable One, I am thoroughly enjoying the poetry and stories, but I have the notion that I am supposed to extract from these things insights and ideas that I can use in my life, is this correct?

Pedagogue. 'Tis true, my young Protégé. What are you studying now?

Noname. The Odyssey. I find it very interesting. I enjoyed most Odysseus’s encounter with the Cyclops that imprisons he and his men. Odysseus tells the Cyclops that his name is "nobody," and when the Cyclops yells for the help of the others of his race, they ask, "Who is hurting you?" And he replies "Nobody! Nobody is hurting me!" And they go away! Oh, that is very funny! And clever!

Pedagogue. I am glad that you are amused. Do you see an underlying theme besides the cleverness of the brave hero?

Noname. No, am I supposed to?

Pedagogue. Oh, yes! Do you see that Odysseus is seeking his identity, and by calling himself "nobody," he is indeed admitting to himself that he is "nobody"?

Noname. But he isn’t "nobody," he's a great voyager, a ruler of a kingdom, a brave leader in battle. He thought up the Trojan horse device to defeat Troy! How can he be "nobody"?

Pedagogue. These are all excellent questions, and as a future leader, the heir of your father’s estate, you must figure them out yourself. Use your own cleverness to discover an end to these questions.

Noname. But you are my teacher, you are supposed to tell me these things!

Pedagogue. This was true when you were much younger, but now that you are entering manhood, you must think about these things much longer and harder before I can intervene with my own interpretations. You see, the ideas in the stories I am having you read meant something different when I learned them at the University of Bollix. That was a long time ago. You represent a new generation; therefore, the same stories mean something different. My interpretation of the story is out-of-date and has no meaning anymore. Stories like these are designed to do that . . . meaning different things to different generations. That is why they are written as so and are considered "classics." They live forever, but they shift their shape.

Noname. I understand . . . I think . . . It’s like the mythology in our religion. Eons ago they were to be taken literally, but as our times change and our knowledge grows, the myth or story cannot be taken literally anymore . . . instead it becomes symbolic of a moral theme or idea.

Pedagogue. Exactly! Now, figure out The Odyssey before dinner!

Noname. Oh, Pedagogue, must I? I had much rather practice my archery.

Pedagogue. You can practice after dinner; at this moment, you are to think! Oh, yes, before I forget, you father doesn’t want me to teach you stories and poetry anymore. So I won’t. But, at the same time I will.

Noname. What you do mean? You cannot do two contradictory things at the same time!

Pedagogue. Oh, you are mistaken, young lad. I won’t teach you stories, you will simply read them on your own. I will teach you the ways of Feudalism during formal hours and during informal hours, you will learn the classics!

Noname. You are so crafty, Pedagogue. I hope you teach me some of your craftiness sometime. I am sure I will need it! [Laughs] [They remain together in the Library, studying]

Scene IV. At dinner in the main dining hall. The distinguished family, Miss Damsel, and the tutor sit about the table.

Pedagogue. Lord Demagogue, I hear that your brother, Sir Wittroth, is due in two days . . .

Demagogue. Yes, that is quite true, his silly self is always due this time of year.

[Servants poor wine and serve roast with bread]

Lady Melancholia. Must you speak of your brother so? He is the only sibling that your have left after the Thirty Years' War. His aura has a tendency to cheer me up, I know not the cause, but he’s effective in raising my spirits.

Demagogue. Well said my lady; he does have a way of affecting people in a positive fashion, bringing out the best.

Pedagogue. Noname, won’t you tell your father what you learned today?

Demagogue. Yes, son, enlighten me . . .

Noname. I learned some historical war strategy . . . the Trojan horse device that Odysseus employed against Troy.

Demagogue. Oh, yes. I remember that account at the academy. A brilliant warrior, that Odysseus. We all admire him so. I believe that story is written down somewhere, do you recall, Pedagogue?

Pedagogue. Yes, my lord, the story is housed within the epic known as The Odyssey. A crafty piece of work written by Homer, a Greek.

Demagogue. A Greek? It’s only fitting. Keep my boy informed on other such accounts of war strategy. He must be fully prepared with the great ideas of our past when he enters the academy.

[Pedagogue and Noname exchange playful glances]

Act II

Scene I: The next day in the garden, Noname and Miss Damsel meet.

[Miss Damsel admiring the flowers, Noname walks up behind her]

Noname. Oh my sweet maiden, how I worship your essence this morning! You are to me what Beatrice is to Dante!

Miss Damsel. [Turning around] What are you talking about, Noname? You cannot be in love with me; you are such an idiot!

Noname. No, I’m serious! I have written a poem about it . . .

[Takes out a piece of parchment from his pocket and reads]

Frogs and Moats

Oh, how do thou enjoy

A good frog . . . singing

The night away?

Croak. Croak. Croak.

To throw a rock or

Two, only to scare the

Frogs away, they hop

From their lily pads. Away

They go; hop, hop, hop!

Such creatures that they

Are, hopping mad in

Love with each other.

The moat their humble

Abode, delightful and

Complete.

Miss Damsel. You are out of your mind! How does that poem represent your love for me?

Noname. You were supposed to read between the lines!

Miss Damsel. Read between the lines? All I get from it is the craziness of slimy frogs!

Noname. But it runs deeper than that! It is your identity!

Miss Damsel. If I identify with any piece of literature, it would be Antigone!

Noname. Antigone? Oh yes, where Creon claims to be "no one" after he realizes his mistake.

Miss Damsel. Yes, Creon did claim to be "no one," but that is not what I identify with, I identify with Antigone's stance against men and their ridiculous laws. The law of the gods is higher than the law of men; it is law of Jove that must be recognized! Antigone was the beginning of the feminist movement, and we feminists worship her!

Noname. Feminists? Well, if you think so.

Miss Damsel. I know so.

[Exit Noname, enter Delphinium]

Delphinium. Why did Noname run out so fast?

Miss Damsel. He tried to express his love for me. I don’t understand that boy.

Delphinium. Yes, he is an odd sort. How did he express his love to you?

Miss Damsel. He read a poem about frogs to me.

Delphinium. Frogs? What an odd medium to express love!

Miss Damsel. I am almost afraid that he might have been serious. I mean, it was the way he read the poem and was looking at me, it was scary. I think that tutor of his is corrupting his mind.

Delphinium. Pedagogue is a good man, I am sure he means no harm.

Miss Damsel. I have been meaning to ask you, what is wrong with your mother, she seems out of sorts.

Delphinium. She is a melancholic misanthrope. The world will never be to her standards and she will always be in a dungeon of abysmal misery. I think it is my Father’s doing, He’s not too bright, you know. He thinks He’s a leader, but ends up being the laughing stock of the kingdom. I need to be married and out of here! As soon as possible! I have my eye on Count Gore.

Miss Damsel. Count Gore? An interesting choice for a husband. But as far as your family goes, all I can say is the epitome of dysfunctionalism! [The ladies have a good laugh]

Scene II. The Captain summons the attention of Lord Demagogue about a wooden horse near the drawbridge.

Captain. My lord, come quickly, there is a wooden horse outside the castle walls!!

Demagogue. A wooden horse? Could we be under attack? Show me this horse at once!

[Captain and Lord stand on the castle walls looking down onto the wooden horse]

Captain. What do you think, my lord?

Demagogue. It’s huge! Have the guards set it aflame! If there are any enemy soldiers within, they will not have a chance to attack! Burn it at once, Captain!

Captain. Yes, my lord! Guards!! Set the wooden horse on fire!

[Guards sneak out to the horse and set it afire, Captain and Lord watch it burn to the ground]

Demagogue. I see no charred corpses, I hear no cries of pain. I wonder what’s the meaning of all of this?

Captain. Look, my lord, a rider!

[Lord looks in to the distance, sees one rider]

Captain. My lord, I believe it is Count Demigod.

Demagogue. You are right, it is my father.

[Count approaches; trumpet sounds, Lord Demagogue runs down to meet him]

Demigod. Son, what was that pile of smoldering charcoal I saw before the drawbridge?

Demagogue. It was a wooden horse that I had burned. I think a clever enemy was attacking us!

Demigod. Attacked? You fool; I sent that horse to you. You were supposed to store it for me! I sent two servants to deliver it you. I met them heading back and asked them if the horse was delivered, they claimed that it was!

Demagogue. What? A wooden horse sent by you? What in the world for?

Demigod. Well, I collect them. But, lately, my estate has been packed to its capacity and I need to send them elsewhere for storage. I came to ask your permission to start storing them here.

Demagogue. Why are you collecting wooden horses?

Demigod. It is quite simple. If I collect every wooden horse in the country, then I will reduce the chances of being attacked by those means!

Demagogue. Attacked by those means? Are you referring to the Trojan horse that Odysseus set before Troy?

Demigod. Exactly. If I buy up all the wooden horses, I won’t have to worry about being deceived by them! Ingenious, Isn’t it?

Demagogue. You’re a loony! How many do you have?

Demigod. Oh, about sixty-nine or so.

[Lord shakes his head in disbelief; exit Count and Lord][In the same courtyard, behind some olive trees]

Pedagogue. This olive tree has yielded an excellent harvest, why hasn’t anyone gathered the fruit?

Noname. I do not know, I suppose the servants are lazier than we thought.

Pedagogue. Here, let’s gather them in these baskets.

[Voices heard in the distance]

Noname. That sounds like grandfather!

Pedagogue. It is Count Demigod! I wonder what bring him hither?

Demigod. [Approaching with Demagogue] Ah, if it isn’t good Pedagogue and my favorite grandson, Noname.

Pedagogue. Count Demigod! What brings you to these parts?

Demigod. [Embraces Noname] I have come to situate my horse collection on this estate. It is much larger than my own, so plenty a wooden horse can be stored.

Demagogue. Father, I will not allow you to store your ludicrous collection here.

Demigod. Too late! I’m having my entire collection brought here in two hours . . . to be accompanied with my most trusted servant. He is to oversee the storage and tie any loose ends that might crop up and stay here a couple nights, just to make sure everything is perfect.

Demagogue. This is my estate, I say what is to be stored here and I forbid you to store your horses!

Demigod. Oh son, I love it when you jest! You are so funny!

Demagogue. I am not joking! You will not store your horses here!

Demigod. Well, I must be off to take care of some business at the Market Place. Then I am going to the play, Indigenous Ruffians, with Countess Roulette when my most trusted servant gets back; he always escorts us to these things! Much preparation is needed, so it should be good. I have seen it a dozen times! Expect the horses shortly!

[Exit Count Demigod]

Demagogue. He doesn’t even listen to me! He totally ignored my orders! [Shouting at his father] I will burn them all to the ground! Not a horse shall be left standing! [Throwing fists into the air] It’s not fair! It’s just not fair! Sir Wittroth has always been his favorite. You don’t see him sending horses to his estate!

Pedagogue. Well, it isn’t practical, your lordship, Sir Wittroth lives considerably further than you do. I am sure the storage of the horses on your estate is a matter of convenience.

Demagogue. What? [Frothing at the mouth] You’re taking his side? Keep it up and you will find yourself unemployed!

[Lord Demagogue storms away]

Noname. My Father’s temper has emerged again. It will take a whole day for him to calm down.

Pedagogue. Yes, that is true. Come, let us pick olives!

Scene III: The arrival of Insipid-adieu and sixty-nine wooden horses.
Insipid-adieu is dressed outlandishly, carrying a scepter with a rock tied to the end, and riding a donkey.

Insipid-adieu. Hooo! In the name of Count Demigod, I have come to administer the affair of wooden horse storage! [He blows a trumpet]

Captain. We have been expecting you! Come, I will show you where they will go.

[Insipid-adieu and Captain head toward the carriage storage area, encounter the lord]

Demagogue. Who is this fool who dares to set foot in my presence?

Insipid-adieu. Dearest Lord Deli-gag! I am your Father’s most trusted and renowned servant!

Demagogue. That is Demagogue, you idiot!

Insipid-adieu. Sorry, Demagogue-you-idiot, I have brought your Father’s most prized treasure, the sixty-nine wooden horses!

Demagogue. I don’t believe it, what is your position in my Father’s court?

Insipid-adieu. I am the court jester! Can’t you tell?

Demagogue. A jester? How can you be so trustworthy?

Insipid-adieu. I have been in the service of the count and countess for several years. I entertain them! I bring a smile to their faces! Laughter is the best medicine, you know! I juggle the souls of Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies, Counts and Countesses! I am skilled in my craft!

Demagogue. Can you do magic?

Insipid-adieu. Yes! That is my specialty!

Demagogue. Then make these wooden horses disappear! I do not want them here! Take them back!

Insipid-adieu. I cannot do that, my lordship. I received direct orders that I am to deliver these sixty-nine horses to this estate today. I am then to employ the services of one of your guards to watch over them, to ensure that the enemy will not steal them and use them against my master. The guard is to inventory them twice a day.

Demagogue. Twice a day? I will not have the time of my guards wasted on such nonsense! Why don’t you stay here and watch over them yourself?

Insipid-adieu. Oh, I wish I could, my lordship, but the count wants me back in his presence in two days to escort him to a play. He’s very fond of plays. He has seen them all, at least a dozen times! A patron of the arts, that he is! Therefore, I will only be staying a couple nights!

Demagogue. Patron or not, these horses must go!

Insipid-adieu. I understand your frustration, Demagogue-you-idiot, but there is nothing I can do. The horses stay. I believe a count outranks a lord, so you are out of luck. So, when do we eat?

Demagogue. OH! That imbecile! He will not hear the last of this! [Demagogue exits]

Insipid-adieu. Temper, tempter. That man needs to relax.

Captain. Yes, he does. But, I would have to admit, having sixty-nine wooden horses placed on your doorstep is not your ordinary, everyday event!

Insipid-adieu. Ah! You should live with Count Demigod! Nothing is ever ordinary there! He keeps surprises coming all of the time! Just last month he was collecting catapults! We have two hundred and thirty-eight of them laying about! Before that it was magical harps. How wonderful it is! [Exit Insipid-adieu and the Captain]

Scene IV. Pedagogue and Noname walk in the labyrinth ofwooden horses.

Pedagogue. This is certainly a fine collection. A tremendous amount of work has went into these masterpieces!

Noname. Yes, that red and black one is my favorite! They are beautiful!

Pedagogue. They are a sight to behold . . .

[Enter Delphinium and Miss Damsel]

Delphinium. What are all of these horses doing here?

Noname. Grandfather brought them over earlier today. His trusty jester escorted them.

Delphinium. It is unfortunate that these horses are not real. How I would love to have a herd of sixty-nine horses to comb and ride!

Noname. But don’t these suit your fancy?

Delphinium. No, they represent the mentality of the male sex, and such things as war and strategy. They are not as gentle and vibrant as real horses. They are artificial and huge! They will not do!

Miss Damsel. Yes, they represent the brutally of men! We are insulted by their presence.

Pedagogue. But ladies, there is always a dichotomy in everything. The more wooden horses Count Demigod collects, the less war there will be!

Miss Damsel. With all due respect, sir, the Odysseus trick only works once. Troy fell for it, Homer wrote about it, and now everyone knows better. One would have to be an idiot to fall for it again!

Pedagogue. Exactly. One would have to be an idiot. But of course, we don’t know of any idiots, do we?

Delphinium. What are you insinuating, dear Pedagogue?

Pedagogue. Oh, nothing. . .

Delphinium. Sure you are. Men! I tell you . . .

Miss Damsel. With this hostile male environment, I think I will head for home now.

Delphinium. Must you, dear Miss Damsel?

Miss Damsel. I must, my lovely Delphinium. I promise I will visit next week, when things calm down.

Delphinium. Very well.

[Exeunt]

Scene V. Lord Demagogue informs Lady Melancholia, awaiting the worst in her chamber, of the Trojan horse incident.

Demagogue. Oh, my sweet lady, how I despise my father.

Melancholia. What has he done now?

Demagogue. He has deposited sixty-nine Trojan horses on my estate. I told him not to, but he refused to listen to me. He mocked my authority in front of the tutor and my son.

Melancholia. Oh, what misery he brings on us. Sixty-nine Trojan horses! What will we do with them all?

Demagogue. I will burn them to the ground! That will tell him how I feel about his challenge on my authority!

Melancholia. Oh Demagogue, let it be. He means well, he doesn’t know what He’s doing. . .

Demagogue. Let it be! This incident is an insult to my manhood! My very essence is in jeopardy! I cannot let it be!

Melancholia. Quit shouting! I feel a bout of depression coming on. . . I shall start crying at any moment!

[Tears well in her eyes]

Demagogue. Oh! I bought you this rare diamond form the trade market, It’s from the Darkland! Does it make you happy!? I was going to give it you on your birthday, but I felt you needed some cheering up, so. . . here it is!

Melancholia. Yes, it makes me happy, I’ll put it with the rest.

[Throws the diamond in a huge trunk]

Demagogue. Good . . . now, back to father . . . no one seems to understand. Pedagogue has taken his side, my son admires him so, and the only one that mildly cares is Delphinium and that feminist friend of hers! I must do something about this!

Melancholia. How do you know Delphinium is against the wooden horse entourage?

Demagogue. I overhead them talking in the maze of horses. They said something to the extent . . ."It is artificial, too large, and won’t do. . . and they rather have real ones."

Melancholia. Are you sure they were talking about horses?

Demagogue. They better be talking about horses . . . or I will kill every man in my manor!

Melancholia. But won’t that deplete your army?

Demagogue. I’ll get a newer, bigger, and stronger one!

Melancholia. Whatever you say, dear. It seems that you are always right.

Act III

Scene I. The arrival of Sir Wittroth the following day.

[A volley of trumpets sound]

Captain. Lord Demagogue! Come quickly, Sir Wittroth is coming!

Demagogue. Lower the drawbridge!

Captain. Lower the drawbridge!

[Drawbridge lowers]

Wittroth. How is my dearest little brother!?

Demagogue. Vexed, as usual. [Brothers embrace]

Wittroth. You look well enough. What vexes you so?

Demagogue. It is father. He has brought his entire wooden horse collection to my estate. It is to be stored here, heaven knows how long.

Wittroth. Wooden horses? Is this another one of his binges?

Demagogue. Yes, and he has plagued me with it. He hates me! I know it!

Wittroth. That is not true! He always liked you best!

Demagogue. Then why did he amass these monstrosities on my grounds?

Wittroth. This is the way he shows his love. He wants to make sure that you are the safest! He gave you the best offensive weapon in history! He only gave me magical harps! What am I to do? Lull my enemies to death? I’m curious, show them to me.

Demagogue. Come this way. . .

[Demagogue and Wittroth enter the labyrinth]

Wittroth. What a fine collection! It’s absolutely beautiful! Does Melancholia approve?

Demagogue. She doesn’t know what to think, with all of her crying, I can’t get any opinion out of her.

Wittroth. She still suffers from depression?

Demagogue. I am afraid so. She is getting worse. I know not what to do. I buy her the best wardrobe in the kingdom and all the jewels I can find, but nothing seems to help.

Wittroth. I shall visit her then. . .

[Exit the brothers]

Scene II. Sir Wittroth meets with Lady Melancholia.

[Knock at door]

Melancholia. Yes?

Wittroth. It is I, Sir Wittroth!

Melancholia . Oh, Wittroth, do come in! I am so glad you are here! You always seem to cheer me up. . .

Wittroth. My lady, you shouldn’t depend on my presence to be happy. [Turns around suddenly] What? Who dares to jab me in the ribs?

Insipid-adieu. It is I, Insipid-adieu, the highly appointed court jester of Count Demigod! You should depend on me to make you happy, my Lady Melancholia!

Melancholia. You are quite right, colorful court jester!

Wittroth. No, no, my Lady, pay no mind to the fool. Anyway, back to what we were saying . . . you have the power to do anything you want!

Melancholia. Anything I want? Demagogue would never approve. And anyway, I never feel like going anywhere.

Wittroth. Well, my lady, always remember that only you are in control of your destiny, if you desire it. Do you want me to leave this fool here to entertain you?

Insipid-adieu. No, no, my lord, I had much rather escort you around the estate. You have such hindsight!

Wittroth. That is nothing! Any fool has that, you must mean insight.

Insipid-adieu. Any fool? Thank you, my lord!!

Melancholia. Gentlemen, I must get dressed.

Wittroth. Very well, I shall see you shortly.

Insipid-adieu. Or longly!

[Exit Wittroth and Insipid-adieu]

Melancholia. In control of my own destiny? . . . hmmm.

Scene III. Sir Wittroth meets with Noname and Delphinium in the palace garden.

Wittroth. Ah! Children how are you?

Noname. I’m doing fine, Uncle. Pedagogue is teaching me all sorts of things about classic literature and poetry.

Wittroth. That is interesting, what sapience have you found?

Noname. I have found an interesting contrast between Odysseus in The Odyssey and Creon in Antigone. Odysseus seems to be searching for his identity; at one point in the story, he even calls himself "nobody." In Antigone, Creon, in the beginning, has a strong identity and punishes all that challenge his authority. But, in the end, when he realizes his mistakes, he says he is "no one." His identity is lost.

Delphinium. Yes! His masculine stance collapsed under the powers of a single woman, Antigone! She has to be the beginning of the feminist movement!

Wittroth. Feminist movement? Do you identify with this movement?

Delphinium. Oh yes! It is so wonderful to be a feminist. I see the world through different eyes now!

Wittroth. So you wear feminist glasses?

Delphinium. Of course! Shades of roses . . . pinks and reds, the nurturing colors! Women are always right!

Wittroth. Sometimes it is better to be blind than to shade the truth of life with distorted glasses.

Insipid-adieu. Yes! Pinks and reds! The colors of all the areolas in the world!

Delphinium. How so, Uncle Wittroth?

Insipid-adieu. The land of Lesbos wouldn’t be bad, If I were the only man there!

[Insipid-adieu is ignored]

Wittroth. The feminist philosophy will collapse without men. It blames one sex for all doings of wrong. But without both sexes, the human race will become extinct. It is a destructive philosophy, not a constructive one.

Delphinium. Well, uhh, well. . . .

Insipid-adieu. His name is Weather Rot!

Delphinium. I know what his name is! It’s Uncle Wittroth, you foolish fool!

[Delphinium storms out of the palace garden]

Wittroth. When the truth comes to a head. . . .

Insipid-adieu. Ah yes, I hate phallic seas!

Wittroth. You mean fallacies . . .

Insipid-adieu. That’s what I said!!

Wittroth. Good Pedagogue, I see you are still hanging around!

Pedagogue. Oh yes! I wouldn’t miss it for the world! Did you see the horse collection?

Wittroth. I certainly did. Quite impressive. Noname tells me that you are teaching him the classics.

Pedagogue. That it true. Lord Demagogue forbids it, but I teach him the literary classics anyway, in secret, of course. If Lord Demagogue found out, I would be drawn and quartered!

Wittroth. I don’t think he would go to such extremes!

Pedagogue. You can never be too sure.

Wittroth. But don’t you believe in what you are teaching? Don’t you believe that the subject is just as important as how it’s presented?

Pedagogue. What do you mean?

Insipid-adieu. Yes, what do you mean?

Wittroth. It is simply this: If you do not think a cause is important enough to stand up for it, how do you as a teacher hope to feed the meat of your subject to your student?

Pedagogue. So you are saying that I should stand up to Lord Demagogue and tell him that I am teaching the classics? If I do that, I’ll be incarcerated or even hung! That’s insane!

Insipid-adieu. That’s my territory! You know, I saw a man hung before. He didn’t look insane to me, he looked limp, at best! Or at least he looked like a toad during high fly time, or you could say . . . .

Wittroth. Excuse me, Insipid-adieu, allow me to finish. [Looking towards Pedagogue] Any great scholar will risk incarceration, or even death, to show the importance of truth, which in your case is the teaching of the classics!

Pedagogue. This is hard for me to accept, I can’t believe it!

Insipid-adieu. Neither do I!

Wittroth. I have only one word to say before I depart . . . Socrates![Exeunt]

Scene V. At dinner, family and Sir Wittroth seated,Servants serve roast duck.

Demagogue. Well, brother, what should I do with the horses?

Wittroth. I am sure father will have them removed eventually. He will realize that he can profit from them in the form of firewood and building materials. I hear they are having a shortage of wood in the north. I am sure they will make good use of wooden horses!

Insipid-adieu. Of course! Where do you think the wooden horses came from?!

Demagogue. What an excellent idea! I will have to mention this to father.

Wittroth. Dearest brother, I feel that there is a certain amount of symbolism that comes with these horses.

Demagogue. How so?

Insipid-adieu. [Waving his hands excitedly in the air] Let me answer this! Let me answer this! In the original, when Homer wrote about Odysseus’s trick, the Trojans brought the wooden horse within the gates of Troy. Greek soldiers waited inside to sneak out later to open the gate so the Greek army can enter and sack Troy. Now, in your situation, it is the wooden horses themselves that have passed through your gates, without soldiers. Not just one horse, but sixty -nine of them. Your stupidity is sixty-nine times worse than that of the Trojans!

Demagogue. How dare you insult me!

Insipid-adieu. I’m sorry, Demagogue-you-idiot! I meant no insult!

Demagogue. Insult or not! Guards! Get this fool on his donkey and out of my sight! Send him off into the darkness of night!

Insipid-adieu. Please don’t send me out into the darkness! One doesn’t know what lies out there waiting! Some pixie or fairy is waiting to change me into some ghastly creature! Vampires and werewolves will feed from my flesh and blood! Please, Lord Demagogue-you-idiot, don’t cast me from the safety of these stone walls! And besides, your father specifically told you to provide me with room and board for one night!

Demagogue. I don’t care! Whatever form you will assume by the fairies, it will be better than the one you have now! And to keep my Father’s order intact, here is a sack of nuts to serve as your room and take along this pine board for your trip home! Guards remove this fool! [Guards grab Insipid-adieu]

Insipid-adieu. Your father won’t like this, Demagogue-you-idiot!

[Exit guards and Insipid-adieu]

Demagogue. How infuriating. I hope I never see that man again, so help me God!

Wittroth. Calm yourself, dear brother, he is only a fool. Don’t take him seriously. On a healthier note, I have a couple observations I wish to make public. Your son seems to have an identity problem. He is infatuated with the identity problems of two literary characters; Creon and Odysseus. He sees in them both success and failure. He knows not what to do or how to go about life. His tutor doesn’t help matters any. He’s too afraid to confront you, my dear brother, on the education of Noname. He must sneak about teaching ideas that are condemned by you!

Demagogue. What? Pedagogue! Are you teaching my son literature?!

Pedagogue. My lordship, you approved of the teaching of war strategy, and literature is full of such strategy. It is for his own good!

Demagogue. You have gone against my direct orders! Guards! Cast this traitor into the dungeon and strap him up by the thumbnails!

Pedagogue. I told you, Wittroth, that he would incarcerate me! He’s crazy! As crazy as that fool he cast into the darkness!

Noname. Father! You will not send my teacher to the dungeon!

Demagogue. What? I am only doing what’s best for you, my son.

Noname. If you want to do what’s best, let Pedagogue go right now!

Demagogue. How dare you speak to me like that! It is those damn classics that have rotted your mind!

Noname. Father, It’s not the classics! It’s what I have learned in the past two days from the people around me.

Demagogue. Swindle-dupe!

Noname. Am I not the heir of this estate?

Demagogue. Well, yes, you are my heir . . .

Noname. Am I not your flame, your legacy? Do you want me to look at you as your look at grandfather?

Demagogue. Heavens no! Your grandfather is an idiot! He’s foolish in his ways and has a court jester as his most trusted servant! You must realize that he is deficient in reason and logic!

Noname. Father, can’t you see? Grandfather has you housing for him sixty-nine wooden horses against your will. And in turn, you are taking my freedom away from me . . . the freedom of a classical education!

Melancholia. He is right, Demagogue, if you send Pedagogue to the dungeon, I will leave you, right now if I must, to prove my point.

Demagogue. What? Has this whole family gone mad?

Wittroth. Listen, my brother. Scholarly types are writing down this history. Don’t you want your son to be a shining star to rise above mediocrity? Don’t you want your son to become lord, or even King of the Land, and look back and tell his court how great a man his father was. . . a brilliant man - a man who knew more than just warfare, but also knew the importance of treaties - peace?

Demagogue. Hmmm . . . Well, I never thought of that, all that I ever wanted is the best for my son. Guards, let the good Pedagogue go.

Melancholia. Finally, I have a say in this family.

Demagogue. But my love, you always had a say . . .

Melancholia. Yes, but this is the first time you actually listened.

Demagogue. My lovely wife, I am sorry for my stupidity. I thought women of noble birth were only interested in shopping affairs, like buying diamonds, rubies, furs, and such; I thought I provided you with these things. But I see that this brought sadness, not happiness. I now realize the fallacy. I will pay more attention to your intellectual needs. [Pedagogue kisses his wife]

Melancholia. This is a very ecstatic prospect! I guess I will stay with you . . . . At least for awhile . . .

Demagogue. So what do you think of this, my daughter, the feminist?

Delphinium. All I can say is hooray for mother, but father, I am no longer a feminist.

Noname. The family is going crazy! All due to the Trojan horses!

Delphinium. No, I have not gone crazy, instead I have realized Uncle Wittroth’s spoken truth. By denying the male sex, I am denying part of my own nature. So father, I have decided to make an announcement . . . I plan to be wed to Count Gore from the neighboring kingdom.

Demagogue. What?! That is the most wonderful thing that I have ever heard! This means a truce between kingdoms! This means peace! This means your grandfather will not need those damn wooden horses anymore! Of course I will have to inspect this young man of yours!

Delphinium. I’m sure he will measure up, but I will marry him anyway. I may no longer be a feminist, but I am my own person.

Wittroth. Well, brother, It looks like everything is settled for now, but you know that new problems will arise when old ones wither away.

Demagogue. Yes, I know. My son is becoming quite a leader, my daughter is marrying our worst enemy, creating an alliance! But I know my son will eventually marry, causing more problems. My wife is happy now, life couldn’t be better!

Act IV

Scene I. Count Demigod comes back with a Donkey, interrupting breakfast.

Guard. My lord! Count Demigod is here and he is furious!

[Sir Wittroth and Lord Demagogue sitting at the breakfast table]

Wittroth. & Demagogue. Oh no, father!

Demigod. You had to do it! You sent my trusty servant into the night! Look! The fairies changed him into a donkey!

Wittroth. How do you know it’s Insipid-adieu, father?

Demigod. I found his cap on its head. [Looking at donkey] Say something, my dear Insipid-adieu!

Donkey. Hee-Haw!

Demagogue. I don’t think this is possible, father . . .

Demigod. Sure! Go ahead! Cover up the blame! When Insipid-adieu didn’t arrive this morning to escort me to tonight’s play, I knew something terrible had happened! I’ve seen many plays with this sort of thing. . . plays where fairies change people into donkeys!

[Guard enters]

Guard. My lord, we found this person by the gate.

Insipid-adieu. Count Demigod! Help me! Your sons, Demagogue-you-idiot, and Weather Rot, sent me out into the cold, dark night! I got lost In the Darkland and couldn’t make it home!

Demigod. Seize it! That’s the donkey! They have been switched! [Petting donkey] Oh, Insipid-adieu! What have they done to you! They have put you inside the body of a donkey. We must summon Merlin to fix you! The donkey that took your form cannot fool me! I know he is not you! He doesn’t even know the names of my sons!

Donkey. Hee-Haw!

Insipid-adieu. My illustrious Master, you must see! It is I, Insipid-adieu! Your most trusted servant!

Demigod. Ha! Fairy dust! Pixie magic! [To guard] take this donkey, who is my beloved Insipid-adieu, to the best chamber in this castle!

Guard. Yes, Count Demigod.

Donkey. Hee-Haw!

Guard. What do you want to do with him [pointing to Insipid-adieu]?

Demigod. Take him to the stable and give him some hay, no sense in wasting good livestock!

Insipid-adieu. Demagogue-you-idiot and Weather Rot, don’t let him do this, tell them that it is me!

Demigod. [Looking towards his sons] Am I wrong?

Demagogue. Well, father, at first I thought you were . . .

Wittroth. Yes, I thought so, too, but now we think you are right, Insipid-adieu is the donkey and the donkey is Insipid-adieu!

Insipid-adieu. Guard! You cannot let this happen to me!

Guard. Donkey, don’t you think that the Count knows an ass when he sees one!?

Finis

Authored by Howard O. Clark, Jr. and Mathew W. Romero

Copyright © 2003-2008 Clark and Romero