Act 1 Scene 1
Tis a tale of shock and rage,
Written in so cursed a page,
Brendon’s vile deformation.
Born base of stock, in the good City,
Young lad, seventeen years of age,
Good of virtue, with Senecan fate,
Sought to avenge a love deflowered,
And henceforth, in blood and sin showered.
For Hephaestus did forge well,
And unhappy Aphrodite he did obtain,
Though it was with Mars with whom she mated.
Our good Ares Hephaestus did slay, and slew (vice
For our Hephaestus specious may be,
And lurking ‘neath the golden fleece,
Typhon did reside. Oh! The agony!
For here, where ancient prince met the beast,
The good land of the centaurs’ feast,
A tragic story doth unfold,
With Sarah at its centerfold.
Come! Sweet death! For this lass tortured by kin!
For not related by blood, they gravely sin,
And tear the womb of the shepherdess,
The Mower did pursue.
And hence the mower they did mow (oh, he did),
Guided by an insidious hand.
Welcome! Prince of Darkness! Cast your wicked blessing
Unto this man afore named, and like in the tales of
Change this man (he will pass),
Into the great Siccitas!
Lament my great woe, and curse sullen fate!
For ne’er a fairer lass did I see,
Than Sarah, her name precious to me
As orient pearl, and diamonds from the Ganges!
Her fingers, a snowy white,
A cage of ivory, encase my plight,
For I know, in her breast (in here)
Beats an aching heart just like mine,
And like mine own, doth reaches out,
To no avail.
Oh, blind love, temper your arrowheads!
Doth afford thee no more joy, as thou wilt,
To see lovers, suffer?
For she is the esteemed daughter of the Senator,
And I am but a poor clerk’s son,
Woe! Oh, cursed destiny,
That I should love such an unattainable lady!
I had just come downhill from the great cathedral
Where I prayed for redemption from this burning love,
To no avail.
Her father, severe as he is, will not let a prince
Let alone me. Oh, will I cry tears of my lifeblood!
For life has granted me
No less a burden than hers.
For the poor girl’s in love with me! Oh, sweet Lord!
Just yester-night she has sought me out under the
blanket of darkness,
At my run-down residence in the shadow of her manor,
And brought me out to the flower-fields
Where we used to frolic in secret in our younger days
And come clean to me of her love!
Oh! Then we made a wish upon a star
For her to be born
To a willing father, and a living mother,
(For hers is dead, oh woe!) And I to be a great
Instead of the clerk’s (my father’s) assistant,
Where I will wage great wars and bring her the trophies
of my slain enemies!
Then we wished that I was a great Doctor of Sciences,
So I could give a sound reply to her queerest queries
And enlighten her of her Music of the Spheres.
Glittering jewels and gold gilded books, all
To no avail.
Oh! Thou had’st ravished me! I am but a simple boy,
Ne’er did I deserve her love.
Now! I shall quench these fires of love in a secret
Oh, spring of clear water, locus amoenous,
I sin erroneous.
Brendon! No more talk! I shall ambulate,
To the secret spring of my youth, tucked away behind
my humble residence.
Eden on earth, sinless paradise!
Enter DOCTOR LUCI, dressed in magic robes, with crystal ball in hand
into my crystal ball, I see,
So hastily, he retreats!
Oh Brendon, child of sin,
How will you navigate
This unforgiving labyrinth?
For even Perseus a fair lady’s thread doth have,
To guide his way in its swallowing depths.
For the beast you must slay, not by your own hand (but also),
For this Romeo is a tragic hero.
Append the wrongdoings of authority,
Learn not of sin’s polarity,
And will I grant you what you seek!
Now, my fair lass he soon will see,
In his cowardly attempt to flee,
The love which puts him ill at ease!
Bathing in the waters of the spring,
Sarah fends off summer heat.
When he chances upon our heroine,
Wherein scars run deep,
Will he take it upon himself
To venge the oath (of parental love) unkeep?
Yes, my good master?
See to the completion of the draught immediately.
all the sin, of all the pleas,
lack magic gin and wild beast’s grease
we are but spirits in the guise of scholars, not gatherers.
draught, made from the torment of seventy-two grave sinners,
for each demon of Solomon (Goetia)
grant power to rend the seas and summon lightning.
we lack pride, the sin of our great lord,
will unleash the true power within,
grant true immortality to the consumer,
demons, nay, even Michael the angel,
not be able to slay the drinker!
What power! Tis a pity that ingredients we lack,
sickly fate has once again found us dumbfounded.
Mephistopheles! If you hath any faith in your lord,
would have raised the issue to me sooner.
LUCI draws a dagger from his
Hereto, take my hand,
And behold the power of the Prince of Darkness!
Soon my agent on earth shall stand
tall, and ne’er fall.
LUCI cuts off his right hand and gives it to MEPHISTO
on earth soon encroach,
And Brendon, thy shall be my right hand,
In this God-forsaken land!
Go Mephisto, and add my hand to the draught,
And prepare the welcome, with most fanfare.
egredietur et peccatores succendent!
Exeunt DOCTOR LUCI and MEPHISTO
Act 1 Scene 2
Oh! Make haste, scuttle through the woods,
Seeking shelter like a witless man should!
Finally be I on the verge of arrival,
The water I so crave for survival!
For I, oh so miserable,
Hath found a place, oh so pleasurable
Oh! Brendon, enough with the rhymes!
For they are merely the twinkling of a starry mind,
The language of infernal fire-flies
That erratically blink to fool our eyes
With false paradise.
Now, haste I say! Sprint with all your might,
For in the water salvation awaits!
Enter SARAH, bathing
Oh! Oh! What’s this?
Quick! Avert your gaze!
Oh! Wretched eyes of mine,
That indulged in her purity!
Nay! How can a maiden be pure,
When the fair skin of her inner thigh
Is laden with cuts and burns?
Brendon! Resume thy gait,
For cursed be your fate
Now you have seen these wounds that lace my body!
Leave me be, pursue simple glory,
Involve yourself not in something so foul!
May the Lord have pity on your soul!
Ay, I have indeed witnessed with mine own eyes
The horrible mutilation that my fair nymph hath endured.
What ever did this poor lass do
To incur such wrath?
Sarah, prithee tell me,
Who hath inflicted those perverse wounds upon you!
Oh, my dearest Brendon!
Drain my lifeblood, pluck my tendons!
I must apologize, your fate is now tethered
To mine, for I am not chaste; my petals have long withered.
Tis, much better elucidated
With poem than with prose stated.
Once there was a flower, it waxed and waned,
With beauty that cannot be writ’ nor named.
Whiter than snow it bloomed,
For it, alas, to winter doomed.
Those who pass by praise thy name,
For thy appearance earned thy fame.
But more! Thy nectar nourished,
Whom, without, would’ve perished.
Still more! Thy fragrance wooed the hardest of criminals,
And turned them into noble men from animals.
Ever more! Thy fair petals provide shelter,
For knights whom in pursuit of glory falter.
But one day, oh, that one day!
Where everything seemed so bright and gay,
The fly doth arrive,
It’s pollen foul derive,
Petals spread, forced apart,
Flower withered, hence depart.
Born from rot, child of disgrace,
With names 明月and Sarah graced,
A new flower, a Rafflesia, flies doth attract,
Their proboscis, in her gut and birth tract,
But this rafflesia remains albino fair,
Despite the flies’ rip and tear,
And her father, on poetry drunk,
Lust dripping, gayly sung:
Halt your words, dear Sarah!
Heavens! What abomination!
You are not the Rafflesia, albino or otherwise,
You are my fair Edelweiss!
May love find us old, (experienced), but ne’er apart!
My trodden life
Beats with your heart!
Well! Wait no longer, bring me to your study!
SARAH Oh Brendon, be not hasty!
I swear I should avenge,
This wrong I seek to mend!
Hark, the wail of a vengeful man!
Sarah, on my life, on my love,
I swear to you,
I shall save thee from the horrors of thy father and compatriots!
If thy trust me, then come and plant a kiss
Softly on my cheek.
I care not that you art no virgin,
But for your pure soul and untainted morality.
Brendon, I bid thee,
Come not to you, but come instead with me,
To the bowels of my study-room,
Where we can confer ‘bout my doom,
In secret, away from prying eyes,
In Doctor’s counsel, we shall devise.
Not many know of my fate,
Jane (my dearest friend) knows, and this knowledge thy ate.
Exeunt BRENDON and SARAH