The Anonymous Blonde's Parlor Games for the Next Millenium

Play #2, Actor B

Milord, forgive me for interrupting your reverie, but milord your brother sends word that you must give him satisfaction before break of day!

But, milord, your very life hangs now in the balance! I would you sent an answer!

Why, milord, I speak of your only brother, who shared with you the bloody strictures of your mother's womb, and suckled greedily at her left teat as you drank with more temperance from her right!

Forgive me, milord. I meant no offense.

Nay, sir. I am untutored in these courtly ways, but my heart is true as steel. I come to tell you that your life is in danger!

Wherefore? There is no mortal that I know who fears it not.

But, milord, if your brother should slay you in combat, that single foot -- which by your manner I divine belongs to the Lady Philapedde -- will elude your kiss forever, and indeed it might fall into the muck that is your brother's love, profaned by his unholy and well-garlicked kiss.

Indeed he does, milord. In sooth, I have seen him lay his mouth upon the earth so close that his hot breath has grazed a callous on her toe!

The eyes of love see truer than eyes of flesh.

And I kiss with the tongue of a bawd.

That is for you to find out for yourself, milord. The way is open to you.

Choose your weapon, milord.

My meaning is not clear. I mean, stand and draw.

Ods bodkins! I mean that I am actually challenging you to a duel!

No, a duel with rapiers, literal rapiers, made literally from steel, with which one of us will kill the other one. En garde!

Milord, from your own black heart.

I have enough, milord. Milord, I fight in the name of your brother.

Ah, but love, love confounds all reason.

You!

Your brother.

The foulest tales, of how his breath corrupts your lady's foot.

Passion twists the tongue in mysterious ways. The gorge rose in my throat at all that foot-breathing --

Milord, you have guessed it.

Your death.

You do, milord?

Wherefore?

I am no virtuous maid, milord.

Ah, milord!

Take this rapier in your hand and pierce my breast.

Thou hast already pierced the heart that beats within it.

Lovest.

In sooth, I do, and I am tortured by it. Come, end my agony with one swift blow!

Then I shall strike the blow myself.

If it must be, it must.

And thou thine own!

Ah, ah -- goodbye, my beloved!

And I thee --

and thou thine own?

Good night.