It occurs to me that I haven't desecrated Shakespeare in awhile, so here be
material to make the Bard revolve in his grave...;-)

Dramatis Personae:

Sir Edmund Blackserpent (Rowan), Duke of Rottenham.  Suave, wealthy, ironic
and reluctant guardian of

Lady Dixia Ryder (Dix), his orphaned heiress cousin who hath more than a
passing interest in

Sir Timothy James (Tim), first lieutenant in Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth's
horse guards and part-time balladeer, oft pursued by

Lady Elfrida (Linda F), Lady Christabel (Christine Z), Lady Justina (Jacquie)
et al, who wilt be introduced as this cunning plot doth unfold, all captives
to the dulcet voice and physical charms of Sir Timothy.

Dame Meg (Cap'n Martha), a soothsayer and purveyor of fortunes.

Cereus (Bryan), a gnome.

Last, and certainly least, S. Baldrick (himself), Sir Edmund's dogsbody and
general bane of the Duke's existence.

Bears, as necessary.
   ____________________________________

Act 1, Scene 1

The drawing room of Blackserpent Manor.  Present, the Duke and several court
ladies.

Lady Elfrida:
I must confess, my lord, your plight is hard,
To be the warder of that headstrong girl
Who sets at naught thy gentle precepts thus
And wanders from her bed by witching hour
To make thy name a byword in the streets,--
Sure, none couldst blame thee shouldst thou cast her out
Or 'mure her up in sacristy's redoubt!

Edmund:
It is a willful wench, yet even so
Her father, my late father's brother dear,
Didst charge me ever to close-cherish her
Nor suffer harm to touch her while I live.

What thinkst thou, Lady Christabel of this?
Shall convent doors then be young Dixia's bar,
To never more steal out of walls by night
In search of stolen moments of delight?

Lady Christabel:
Aye, lock that wench up well and lose the key!
[aside] Then she'll no more set snares for Timothy!

Scene II

A cottage in the wood near the manor. Dixia, in a boy's doublet and tights is
lounging on a tuffet and watching Dame Meg stirring something steamy in a
large kettle on a tripod over her fire.

Meg:
I've warned thee thrice, the Duke is not amused
By thy night-rovings and thy capers light;
Thou'lt find too late that pipers must be paid
When he resigns thee to thy sorry plight.

Dixia:
My lord the Duke hath many heavy cares,
Yet is he mild and gentle as a lamb.
I'll teach him somewhat of the tiger's airs
For well equipped is he to play the ram.

Meg (shaking her head:)
I'll tell thy fortune for a silver groat.
[biting the coin]
The stars that wheeled in heaven's velvet bower
Upon thy natal day this promise wrought:
Thy destiny shall come to fullest flower
When thou hast in thy net two blackbirds caught.

Dixia:
How now, thou crone, I'll have my groat again!
Thy words like smoke are moving shadows gray
And give no portent of my history.
Go -- write ye sitcoms now for ABC!

A man on horseback approaches the cottage.  It is Sir Timothy, in full
lieutenant's garb and with a lute upon his shoulder.  He dismounts and greets
Dixia and Dame Meg.

Tim:
Well met, fair ladies, on this halcyon mead;
I seek refreshment --

Dixia (aside:)
-- I have what you need.

Tim:
Forsooth, sweet maid, thou speak'st a foreign tongue;
Anachronistic -- and thou art so young.

Dixia:
I stand rebuked, good knight, and only pray
That thou shouldst make it a "good night" alway.

Dame Meg:
In very truth, this be the lightsome prating
Sir Edmund likes not and will be abating...

Exit Dixia and Sir Timothy, into the forest.  Dame Meg busies herself with a
bit of parchment which she ties to the leg of a carrier pigeon...
       *        *          *

With thy kind indulgence I once more dip my quill to continue with

Act 1, Scene III

Sir Tim and Dixia, somewhat disheveled, are lying at their ease under the
branches of a giant oak.

Dixia:
I would thou might'st beguile me with thy lute;
Play, Sweeting, some fair melody of thine.
Make gay the noontide with clear tinkling trill,
Put's thou the very song birds on their bond
To fall dumb at the first note of thy voice
That maketh even angel choirs rejoice.

Tim (strumming his instrument:)
Likest thou this, sweet chuck? --

''Twas a merry young shepherd,
A-tending his flocks,
With a loo, a lye and a lay;
He brought them to market,
But soon met a fox
Who scattered his lambkins
Midst rivers and rocks,
For shepherding seldom doth pay.

Along came a fair maiden
All garnished in blue,
With a loo, a lye and a lay;
She spake to the shepherd,
"What dost trouble you --
For every young ram
Needs must have his own ewe,
Sweet shepherd, pray wed me today."

Sir Edmund on horseback enters the wooded glade, drawn thither by the music.

Edmund (applauding:)
What cheer, Sir Timothy?  Well met art thou!
I owe thee thanks that in thy gentle care
I find my nestling.  Wilt not dine with us?

Tim (rising and bowing:)
Count me ungrateful should I say thee nay.
[helping Dixia to her feet]
And I'll presume to give this lass a ride
Upon my lazy steed who needs bold master.
Say, shall we try whose stallion is the faster?

Edmund (laughing:)
Bold youth!  My Satan shall outmatch thy nag,
Else,--what's thy wager?

Tim:
Why, this maid's sweet kiss.

Dixia:
Methinks such pleasure wouldst not come amiss.
I'll wait your pleasures,-- spur thou to yon tree ;
I shall be here when you return to me.

Edmund and Tim mount their horses and race toward an elm tree some hundred
yards distant.

A black-cloaked figure which has been awaiting its opportunity springs from
behind the oak and envelopes Dixia in a large sack....

Tim and Edmund have raced their frothing beasts to a dead heat.  Somewhat
disgruntled, they ride back to the spot where they left Dixia.

Edmund:
Tomorrow shall we venture with the bow;
And should we equal prove, why, next the sword.

Tim:
Our bird hath flown the nest, didst see her fly?

Edmund:
She taketh vapourish fancies aye and non,
Coquettes and teazes for a trumpery prize;
I'll warrant she be gone to seek her rest,
Else halfway to Calais; who knoweth best?

They exit.  The only sound in the glade is muffled naughty words spoken
through a closely-woven sack as Dixia is spirited off...

      *         *         *


Once more shall I dip my quill to transcribe my notes (while I can still
decipher them -- I have a habit of scribbling down dialogue and scenes
whenever I think of them) ;-)


Act II, Scene I

Lady Elfrida's tastefully appointed parlour.  She is holding court amongst
several excited ladies.

Lady Elfrida:
Pray, gentlewomen, peace! -- and hear me out:
Dame Meg, whom ye know well, hath sent this note
Detailing a most cunning subtle plan:
We all seek favour of Sir Timothy
But have no means of gaining his fond ear --

Lady Christabel:
I'll forswear *both* his ears and take what's left!

Lady Justina:
A pox upon thee, strumpet! -- By my head,
Thou claim'st his body over mine when dead!

Lady Martine (Maria:)
Is that what's wrong with it, soft-spoken dove?
I would not touch thee with a leather glove!

Lady Barbara (Briana:)
Yon lady hath a man-devouring look;
I would not trust her with a caitiff's churl.

Lady Miriam (Minx:)
Soft, good my gentle ladies, let's amend --
Sir Timothy likes not a froward girl.

Lady Bernice (Betty B:)
An is that so?  How camest thou to know
His preference 'mongst the fair and tender sex?
Methinks this minx doth steal a march on us
In matters that a virgin must perplex...

Lady Gillian (Jamie:)
Reflect, sweet friends, and slay each other not
Lest Dixia retain the field unchallenged.
If we do compact now to see fair dealing,
Sir Timothy himself shall chuse amongst us...

Lady Elfrida (taking a battle axe down from the wall in a meaning way:)
I charge thee, ladies, mute thy clamor
And hear me out, else I'll reduce the field.

All fall momentarily silent, looking uneasily at the axe.

Lady Christabel:
Why, we are all as mice to hear thy tale, dear,
Do pray enlighten us upon this plan.

Lady Elfrida:
Thou knowest that Her Majesty (God Save Her)
Doth keep a certain train of men on guard
Around the royal palace as determent
To acts of war or horrid regicide.
A full purse buys these men's co-operation
For this:  we'll personate these goodly knights
Here are the habliments of noble manhood:
Cuirass and codpiece, halberd, helm...and tights.

Lady Sarah (Sharon S:)
I smoake thy purpose and I give my hand on't --
Let us cast lots then for the nights we serve:
For each of us shall be his body servant
With sweet affection, loyalty --

Lady Christabel:
--And nerve!!  Yes!!

All begin to try on the masculine attire.

    *    *     *

Act II, Scene II

A convent on the coast of Wales, housing the order of The Sisters of Merciless
Chastity.  Lady Dixia, none too happy, reclines on the stone bench of her
cell.

Dixia:
Now, out upon this for an ill-done jest;
What, mew my body in stone-bolstered cell,
Bar out the light and birdsong from my days,
Drag weary penitence down failing years
At last to welcome death's delayed release?
I could not think Sir Edmund had a heart
Thrice colder than these stones to cage me here.
But I'll not think on him.  Some chink I'll find
To scurry through into the gladsome day
And wind my path out of my good coz's way...
For, call me lightsome giddy wanton jade,
But call me not late for love's table laid.

           *            *             *


Act II, Scene III

Two weeks later, in the officers' quarters of the Queen's personal guard.

Sir Timothy, looking unusually enervated, is seated near the fireplace with a
puzzled look on his face.  Sir Edmund, also quite haggard, has joined him for
a cup of ale and a quiet talk.

Tim (groaning:)
If ever man was hell-bewitched, 'tis I! --
My nights are broken by a score of dreams.
Fair nymphs do gather 'round my batchelor's cot
And yet, when I awaken, they are not.

Edmund:
These fancies are engendered by ill meats;
I'll warrant thou hast lost a store of flesh.
But never wast thy dress as fair and bright;
Thy very spurs flash sparks in firelight.

Tim (languidly:)
My page, young Giles, thou knowest well of old
--A loutish laggard lump-knoll with swine's eyes
Who never cleaned a boot without a kick,
Yet lately my least wish he sees as favour
And runs to do my lightest bidding well.
Certes, 'tis due to some shape-changing spell.

Edmund:
What meanest thou?

Tim:
Betimes he will appear but low and plumpish;
At other times, as lean as any rail;
His hair from tow to tawny, black or brown,--
It tires me but to think upon yon clown.
How hast thy journey prospered? Is there news
Of the fair Dixia, our absent maiden?

Edmund (sighing:)
If tireless search, Land's End to John O' Groats
Might e'en discover one small precious token
Of my dear coz and ward, I'll never rest
Though heart doth fail, doth faint, doth die, is broken...

Tim (head sagging on his breast:)
And mine.  Or would it be, had I yet strength.
Some demon's wiles have sucked me to the husk;
I'll see Dame Meg for counter charms the morrow:
Till then, know good my lord, I share thy sorrow.

Baldrick has entered the room unnoticed during the conversation, accompanied
by Cereus, a gnome who is carrying a basket of turnips.  They exchange a look
of consternation and exit, also unnoticed.

Meanwhile, in the servants' quarters a score of 'guardsmen' watch glumly as
Lady Hester (Patty M) dons the page's tunic and breeches.

Lady Elfrida:
This is thy second turn the self-same week.
A lucky chance thou pulled the longest straw...

Lady Hester (innocently:)
True, luck indeed,--Sir Timothy himself
Oft marvels at my mending of his hose.

Lady Genevieve (Natalie:)
Well might'st thou wait until he take them off!

Lady Bianca (Brie:)
Hush,--comes the watch,--our discourse must be martial--
[gruff voice:]
Form up there, men, and be upon thy mettle.
We guard the choicest flower of our age.
To duty,--

Lady Christabel:
--And to thine, thou vaunting page!

      *              *              *

Act III, Scene I

The convent.  Lady Dixia, quite bored, is working on a tapestry depicting the
tortures of the damned and amusing herself by including likenesses of various
ladies of the court among the victims.

Lady Dixia (laying down her needle petulantly:)
What pass-time for a woman of my spirit!
No hunting, hawking, dallying to hope!
And not a word or sign from my good lord...
This is beyond all insult.  I'll elope.
I'll plead attachment of the tender sort
And fly my prison for Queen Bess's court!

The cell door is unlocked and a black-cowled figure, Mother Superior Elinore
the Flagellant (Lynn) enters.

M. Superior (sternly:)
Daughter, hast yet thy haughty spirit fled?
Take twenty aves and this crust of bread.

Dixia (sighing:)
No water?
Hast this thine order then relaxed its creed
To seek out betrothed maidens such as I?
My darling must be anxious at my loss,--
I prithee, let me go fulfill my vows.

The Mother Superior draws back, startled.

M. Superior:
What?  Be this so and I wast not informed?
The troth indeed hast equal force to wedlock
And must be honoured.  Thou mayst not bide here.
Sir Edmund, meaning well, hath missed his aim:
Our holy halls may house no betrothed dame!

Dixia, released from the convent, hurries off along the rocky seacoast path.
Suddenly she sees two people (or reasonable facsimiles) trotting toward her.

Dixia:
Baldrick!  I might have known thee by the smell;
Why com'st thou here, and who's thy gnomish friend?

Baldrick (bobbing and touching his forehead:)
My lady, this be Cereus.

Dixia:
Yea, serious indeed!  How doth my lord?
And wast it by his order I bode here?

Baldrick:
Umm, that was a mistake as you may say...

Cereus:
Thy servant, Miss.  What Baldrick here doth mean,
He mistook what the Duke did idly speak
And hath exceeded orders, by thy leave.

Dixia:
With him, that is the natural state of things.
Can'st tell me aught of the Lord Timothy?
Too many empty nights hath sped between us,
Too long since he's played Mars to my coy Venus.

Baldrick and Cereus look at each other doubtfully.

Baldrick:
He dwindles by the day, from too much frolic;
The ladies of the court do cause him colic.

Dixia:
So! Turn my back a moment an he starays!
I'll medicine his dis-ease, never fear.
And my sweet coz shall play a lover's part;
Green jealousy's false visage then will leer.

   *     *      *

Act III, Scene II

Dame Meg's cottage, the following day.

Dame Meg:
The charm is wrought, the plot afoot, and now
I need no longer this uncouthly guise...

She removes her warts, grey wig and shabby cloak and stands revealed in a
cloth-of-gold gown as the beautiful enchantress, Lady Margaret.  Taking a
small vial filled with green liquid from a shelf, she pours two drops into a
wine-filled goblet on the table.

Lady Margaret:
Sir Timothy, thy fate entwines with mine
Once thou hast sipped this loving-philtered wine!
But stay! [listening] Is that his steed?

She hurries out of the cottage door and walks a way down the path through the
forest -- and Dixia, Baldrick and Cereus slip quietly inside.  Baldrick has
just taken a bite of turnip and begins to choke; Cereus hands him the doctored
goblet and he drinks, then staggers outdoors.  Cereus follows, pounding him on
the back.

Dixia picks up the phial and hearing Lady Margaret returning, leaves by the
cottage window.

Lady Margaret (exasperated:)
What dost thou here, small elvish-looking wights?

Baldrick (looking up at her rapturously:)
What e'er thou dost desire, o beauteous one...
My heart and soul and turnips art thine own...

Lady Margaret:
[shriek!!]

       *              *               *

Act III, Scene II

The palace courtyard on the following day.  Queen Elizabeth (Betty T) is
reviewing her troops.  The 'guardsmen' are lined up in military fashion before
her and murmur anxiously among themselves:

Lady Bethany (Kristi:)
I shrink, I sweat, I tremble; dost she see?
My codpiece hath the ague,--o, pity me!

Lady Ariana (Adrienne:)
Suck in thy gut and hold thy head erect,
Then by our Lady, she may'st not suspect.

Lady Lettice (Linda E:)
A pox on this, and I so seldom kissed
Or clipt by Tim,--ah, why didst I enlist?!

Lady Deborah (Emma:)
Let not this minor bagatelle defeat us:
Why pales thou so,--i'faith, she cannot *eat* us!

Lady Carola (Kim:)
I fear me I hath not a soldier's swagger;
I lose my way betwixt an sword and dagger.

Lady Alyce (Anna:)
'Tis all Dame Meg,--I see her cunning plan!
Her sugared words beguiled us by her will;
Her eyes were ever on the self-same man
As ours,--and she'll enjoy him to her fill!

Lady Elfrida (whispering:)
Form up, less talk and try thou may'st seem fierce
Else shall my sabre soon thy doublets pierce.

Queen Elizabeth (pacing the line and examining the 'men':)
A likely lot...I see no hairy cheeks.
Smooth-shaven, glowing roses on each face.
Truly art England's pride and glory, lads.

In a shady corner of the courtyard, Sir Timothy and Dixia watch, arm in arm.

Tim:
I hardly can believe thou art restored...
No one could ever hope to fill thy place.

Dixia:
I have heard differently, but let it be.
We'll have a joyous meeting with my coz
This evening. Thou canst tell me all thy mind
And doubtless we will sweet diversion find.

Tim:
Her Majesty seems pleased; she struts and preens--
Is't true, these 'guards' are of the gentle sex?

Dixia:
Too true.
Should she find that they art not what they seem,
Their bodies she'll unseam from chine to crutch...

Tim:
Methinks they will not like that overmuch.
Sith Essex fell from favour, our good Queen
Hath temper fits that cause the bears to flee.

Dixia:
Mean'st thou her pets that 'fest the Royal Pit
For sport of bulldogs and much wagering?
But hush, she speaks...

Queen Elizabeth:
By Royal Favour, goodly and fair knights,
Thou art promoted to my noble presence
Henceforth the Royal Bedchamber to serve.

All the 'guards' kneel before her (as their knees will not support them).
Well pleased by this obeisance, Her Majesty bows and enters the palace.

Act III, Scene III

That evening Sir Timothy, Lady Dixia and Sir Edmund are dining at Blackserpent
Manor.  Edmund is overjoyed at Dixia's return and she takes the opportunity to
spike his ale with Dame Meg's love-philtre.  He sips it unconsciously and his
aspect immediately alters.

Dixia (startled:)
Sweet coz, what humour makes thee look so stern?
Such froward, black-browed looks beseem thee not.
For pity, do not slay me with your frown.

Edmund:
My thunder-clouded gaze is not for thee,--
A thankless churl aspireth to thy heart
With languished glances, honeyed words,--
Forsooth!--the while he eats my bread,
He plots this theft!  I'll bear it not!
He shall be swift despatched;
His guts shall be my bowstrings ere moonrise,
And daws shall sup upon his villain's eyes!!

Dixia prevents him from drawing his sword.

Dixia:
Oh, soft, my lord,--such measures shall not be!
As all the world knows, we're the charmed' three:
Two legs cannot support an oaken stool;
It leans, it topples,--be ye not love's fool!
I cannot spare the one or other of thee,
For hear me, whilst I do confess I love thee.
Didst not King Solomon of holy writ
Take concubines and wives beyond all need?
A murrain on such self-befooling wit:
Too many hens shall dull the rooster's greed.
I'll follow that wise king's sweet am'rous bent,
But I'll out-Solomon that ancient liege:
Love both nor marry either is my plan,
For sure as suns do set and rise again,
One woman is the match for many men!

Tim and Edmund:
Why, there's a wench!!

Baldrick (entering the dining room:)
Where?  Shall I get the wench powder, my lord?

Edmund:
Baldrick, were brains as thick as fleas
Thou'd never need to scratch.  What news at Court?

Baldrick:
The Queen is mad.

Tim:
Not literally, I hope?

Baldrick:
She had the guards tossed into the bear pit,
But the bears wasn't hungry...I gave them
Turnips for their tea and they been lying down
Since then.  So I threw down the key and the
Ladies all went home.  Mad.

Dixia:
'Tis much too much to hope that thou could'st
Keep the fair iambic-pentameter form.

Baldrick:
Dame Meg dost scorneth my addresses, too.
Scorn, scorn, scorn.

Edmund:
Naturally, she not being blind.
That rounds our happy ending then, my friends.
So, though I have small Latin and less Greek,
I'll essay still this classic tag to speak:
'Soles occidere et redire possunt,'
(Suns may set and rise again)...

Tim:
...'Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,'
(but for us, when our brief light goes out)

Dixia:
...'Nox est una perpetua dormienda.'
(there is one long night for sleeping.)
'Da mi basia mille!'
(Give me a thousand kisses.)

As Tim and Edmund comply, the curtain falls.

Y(that's all, folks)FT,
Dix

P.S.  The Latin quote is from Catullus; I found it in my favourite mystery,
"The Red Right Hand" by Joel Townsley Rogers.

PPS. And a big thankyou to Linda Fletcher, whose idle comment inspired this
parody. :-)

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