Saturday, October 2, 2010

8 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 2 Scene 4

             Enter Lynna, and Scooterus no longer in drag

Lynna            I prithee, boy, run to the Senate house!
                     Make haste! Why stare’st thou like a startled mouse?
                     Why dost thou stay?

Scooterus:                                      To know my errand, madam.

Lynna:            He knows not plot to do to Bush like Saddam?                                                        
[aside]
[to                 Stay not to quibble! Speed there strong and true!
  Scooterus]   Art thou here yet?

Scooterus:                                   Madam, what should I do?

Lynna:             Do? Bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,
                       And note what Caesar doth, if he yet fell.
                       
                                     Enter the soothsayer

                       Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?

Soothsayer:     Madam, not yet. Like any wily pol,
                       He waits until the crowd grows mighty strong,
                       That lusty cheers from multiplying throng
                       Might thus propel him forward through the door
                       To greater glory on the Senate floor.
                       So will I stand by street curb till he pass
                       And warn him: ‘Caesar, do protect thine arse!’

Lynna:             Why, know’st thou any harms? What do you hear?

Soothsayer:      Nothing explicit; non-specific fear
                        Have I from my forebodings of great harm
                        That come to pass this day. I must go, ma’am.
                       
                                                Exit soothsayer

Lynna:              I must go in. Oi vey, how weak a thing
                        The heart of woman is.

                                   Sennet, alarums, excursions. Enter Nortona panting, shrieking

Nortona:                                           Shame! Dost thou sing
                         Sexism's song, thou gleeking sexist sow?
                         Take that!

Lynna:                              Ow! Ouch!

Nortona:                                            And that! I'll teach thee how
                         The heart of man is weaker 'neath his pecs
                         Than any ticker of our fairer sex.

Will S.:               I never wrote that nor brought Norton in.
                          I tell thee, coach, our actors do foul sin
                          Against our text, assume in full their part
                          in real life, no longer aping art.
                          Their independence spreadeth like the pox.
                          Expel her coach, and shut the stage's locks.

                             Alarums, ruckus. Exit Nortona flying through the air at the end of Coach's boot

Lynna:                The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise,
                          O Chenie, cut the Bushie down to size!

                                 Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2

Sponsor 2:          For slashes and for gashes and for cuts
                          From Texas Cheyn’-saw massacre, your nuts
                          With double Johnson band aids bind them tight!
                          The Johnson twins will put your pain to flight.
                    
                                                          Exit sponsor 2

Lynna:                Thou art still here, o Scooterus? Hie hence
                          To see if Zeus doth turn our puny pence
                          To golden fortune.

                                                 Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1

Sponsor 1:                                     Halliburton will
                         Turn pence to zillions what’er the bill.
                         Gourmets are we in each and ev’ry heist,
                         We symbolise the corporate zeitgeist.

                                                   Exit sponsor 1

Lynna:               Run, Scoot’rus, and commend me to my lord,
                         And bring me word if he now chairs the board.

                        Exeunt separately, Lynna doing a belly dance, Scooterus break-dancing 

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