HOW TO MEET THE QUEEN OF ANY ENGLAND

ACT I.

SCENE I.

KARNU and DUNE.

KARNU. The prized in mine heart is the Queen! How shall I look upon her save from afar? I'm not of a lofty station—neither do I know of noble conducts—

How have I come to this? Why her? Why me? So many other maidens about. So—so many to catch my eye. Yet it had to be her!

(holding his head in despair) Oh, Karnu—why hast thou awoken it?

In dream, she's the only one I found myself to kiss—I don't know why. At this, she and her mater, the resting Queen, stood awfully happy; alike two deranged—

(faces Dune) Would you know, possibly, of the notorious? It woken up—yea, it was love! (his voice rising) I love her! I love her! She's Queen, not only of England, but of my heart too—

I've heard of a place where all are equals. Where all are of one social standing. If this strong a love will abide, as it e'er hath so been these twain years, haply it will impale the walls of everlasting. The priest said love is eternal. Said he, 'our departed ones will always know of our love for them, as we know of theirs for us.' Yes, I will go see the priest!

DUNE (agitated). All you've voiced to me is utter foolishness! You hear not that which comes out of thy mouth! Why dost thou trouble thyself with things that are not of thy concern; things that are beyond the reach of thy hand?

Can't you see that it's wrecking you—thy love for that woman?

The only place you will ever be with her, where she'll ever know of thy love, is in your dreams!

The maiden next door has upheld her love for thee; made known it, so many times, in so many ways.

For time that will fail, for I have better to do, I shan't speak of the others like her—

God has been gracious with thy looks, brother. These damsels in our little town find thee a goodly young man. Without a doubt, you and the Queen would be a sweet couple to behold. But in this world, cobblers don't just marry queens; much less those of England. Never the twain shall meet!

KARNU (insistently, naggingly holding Dune's hand). But if it's love, then, is it not real? And if real, shall it not be?

DUNE. It's real, young brother; also, impossible—

(greatly vexed) Ugh— (pushes him away) stop wasting my time with your whims! Hasten now, go talk to the priest. He's a wise man. Perchance he'll smite good judgment into that mulish head of thine!

SCENE II.

At the church.

KARNU and the PRIEST.

KARNU (looking very distressed, on his knees). Priest, I have fallen in love with one I must daren't look upon!

PRIEST. And what am I to do with this?

KARNU. It's a devil, priest! It's of the oppressor, this love!

PRIEST. What meanest thou, child?

KARNU. It couldn't be from the almighty—it's been sent to torment me for my many unconfessed sins!

PRIEST. And who said love is of a devil?

The lord is in all places—in everything; even in the tenderness of a kiss. Is God not love? Is he not the author of it? Art we all not a consequence of love?

KARNU. If the lord be the author of this great a love, why does he permit such an unlikely thing endure in my heart? Why the Queen of England?

PRIEST (a deep pause). The Queen?

KARNU. Aye! This is my curse— (almost weeping)

Beseech thee the lord to take it from me! I cannot endure anymore; it has to let me alone—it has to take its leave!

PRIEST (smiles). And where, may I ask, shall it go?

KARNU. Anywhere! Far, far from me!

PRIEST. Thy love is false.

KARNU (taken aback, mutters a short moment). What sayest thou, priest? (very argumentatively) No! No! My love is true!

PRIEST. Love beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things—

had you been coming to church, Karnu, you'd have known of these things.

KARNU (slightly irritated). Didst thou not hear a word I said? It is Her Majesty I speak of!

PRIEST. She's Queen—to thee, this betokeneth thou canst not know connubial joys with her? Is she betrothed yet?

KARNU (troubled). I do not know; nothing is certain. (a short silence) You would better know these things, priest! A prominent and informed man in England—art thou not?

PRIEST (deliberately disregarding his question, he places his right hand on Karnu's left shoulder, gentle voice). Anything true has a claim on what it holds dear—this is faith—

So, tell me, young cobbler—your love for the Queen, it is true, yes?

KARNU (affectionately speaks, while strongly clasping the priest's right arm). Oh, Priest! Thou couldst not imagine the depths in me this love claims! I love her more than I love my own self—adore her more than I do her Creator!

Upon the passing of the king, I knew, nay, I felt, her lonesomeness. These hurts rend her precious heart. I wanted to go be with her, alas, she does not know me! And those overzealous royal guards would never let a commoner like me in. (the sincerest expression of candor) I have nothing to offer; but my love is truest, priest!

PRIEST (after a deep pause). Thy love is true, yet blemish cumbers thee.

KARNU (in eager anticipation and impatience). What's that, priest? Tell me! I will do anything to be with her!

PRIEST. Thou loveth her more than thou loveth God. This be thy stain, young cobbler—

thy adoration for any else, if you chose, let it supplant that of self. But no other adorations must oust those towards God. He is man's only help. let not men deceive thee with their lofty stations and echelons. They all have said little prayers intreating a God's help in time of trouble; for this hour befalls all who are under the sun—

But usually, when they do not obtain any signs to fulfil their petitions—or—when they think they have not, they declare he doesn't exist; a toddler's ill-informed custom to a father's refusal to grant a request. But the parent still does exist, despite the child's flouting's—does he not, young cobbler?

KARNU (he faces down in shame). Yes, he does.

PRIEST. love God above all else, young cobbler—and all else will love thee.

KARNU. Then, am I to love Josephine and all else less?

PRIEST. Oh, by no means, young cobbler—only love God more.

KARNU (after a short silence). I looked forward to a snubbing; to stop me from thinking of the Queen in such a manner. But you hearten me. Why doest thou this?

PRIEST. I believe I've walked the earth long enough to know what many really want. In all my ninety-five years, men only want to love and be loved; this is all I've found. Craved stations and toys are for recognition; all longing to be noted is molded in the burning furnace of the need to be loved. A thunderous yet soundless cry for the love of those about them. It would make it trouble-free if men openly told and requested each other's love; only this is measured weakness and inelegance. Though it would be an act of courage, true courage, if one said openly, 'love me.' This would be true strength, young cobbler.

How would I be of service to my fellow men and God if I thwarted an occasional thing as true love—thy love?

KARNU (standing up in high spirits). For giving me hope, my thanks remain with thee, priest. (going)

PRIEST. Art thou disposed to devote a little time in prayer, young cobbler? You haven't been here in a long while!

KARNU (standing a few feet away). I know not how to pray!

PRIEST. Canst thou, from heart, speak? If so did thee once, thou prayedst!

KARNU (reluctantly). Then I shall return. (leaves)

SCENE III.

The Queen's bedchamber.

QUEEN JOSEPHINE and MAGGIE.

JOSEPHINE (in her white night-gown, she leaps on her four-poster bed, lovingly speaks). Only thee dost I regard friend and family, Maggie— (Maggie warmly smiles for this)

thou hast been loyal to this— (interjects herself)

(excitedly) Aha! I have dreamed a queer, yet delightful dream, Maggie!

MAGGIE. Oh, did you? Tell me it, Your Majesty.

JOSEPHINE (gaiety, looking in Maggie's eyes, she smiles). A man, handsome and charming, told me of his love. He was one I've never seen and know not a thing about; a complete stranger. (a delighted mood) Oh, but how I felt and knew his words were true. Not much from the dream comes back to me— (a pleased smile) but he kissed me, Maggie. (giggling) In a moment, mother appeared and we were so happy; so happy, that I think of it, we both were as insane. We embraced each other in love, mother and I! I was happy, Maggie. So happy!

When I looked, I saw the lovely young man na mair; he disappeared. With the sun's first peep at mine face, I awoke from the lifelike experience; and, behold, it was a dream.

MAGGIE (she swiftly walks to her, holding both her hands). How lovely— (a reflective pause)

Your dream— (slowly speaks as she continues to reflect) hmm—familiar. (sits beside her) Mother told me once, lang syne, such were said to be harbingers—

(a smile) Cupid's eye is on you, my young queen. Someone doubtlessly mulls over thee. love is on its way to thee.

JOSEPHINE (a dubious tone and face). It's only a dream, Maggie; they never mean a thing.

MAGGIE (abruptly stands, her hands on her waist, softly reprimanding). Do not so quickly despise dreams, my young Queen—there's reason we have them!

JOSEPHINE. By what means dost thou know of these things? Thou hast shown me a Maggie I haven't met in bygone days.

MAGGIE (smiling). let's just say, my mother wasn't an ordinary woman— (quickly interjects herself) but since you've dreamed of him, thou most definitely will soon meet the young man.

JOSEPHINE (more dubious tone). Mayhap.

MAGGIE (while clapping her hands with much joy). Wodensday approaches! Church day, my Queen. Are we to go?

JOSEPHINE (enthusiastic). Oh, most definitely! I am as keen as mustard to leaving the palace again! Though I have to put a veil over my face, as the women ought to do, It's the only place I can be unstructured—without any expectations of what a queen must do!

MAGGIE. Oh, but how the people would delight in the knowing that the Queen has been in their presence many times.

JOSEPHINE (a smile).

MAGGIE (in eager anticipation). The priest said it will be most wonderful. I can't wait for the day to be over!

JOSEPHINE (excitedly). Neither can I, Maggie!

SCENE IV.

A chamber in the DUKE'S house.

HIS GRACE, THE DUKE OF WULFRISHIRE and DIVIDSON.

DAVIDSON. Do you think she'll agree? Shall you successfully tame her?

THE DUKE (smoking his pipe, he makes a relished smirk). She's royalty, yes. Be that as it may, Her Majesty still possesses the mind of a lass. A girl burdened with a crown—

Immense grief, owing to the loss of both the King and Queen, is manifest on her features; she's vulnerable in mind. I will easily mold it to my own design.

DAVIDSON. Indeed. 'Tis evident she still is haunted by the sudden deaths of the late King and Queen.

THE DUKE (self-satisfied smile). Gullible, naive and alone— (leans back, his folded legs on the large, exquisitely crafted mahogany desk) a lassie—this will be easy. Be the pillow to shed their many tears on; attend to all their pettiness and whims—give them that, and all will be fine. Thou wilt own them.

DAVIDSON. Maybe other than be false, thou shouldst be true with her; offer thy truest love from heart— (sotto voce) if thou canst find it.

THE DUKE (suddenly stands from chair, pompously speaks). I'm no slave to sentimentalities—mine eyes are open! I have no interest in such things as flowers and rings and picnics; all that garbage called romance—tut! (a short pause, in a most sardonic tone) People never love each other, Davidson. They only ever want something from one another. And like vampires, when they have sucked all the life they can from one, they leave and go find the next victim and cling on—parasites! We are not any different from blood-thirsty leeches!

DAVIDSON (a short silence). What of thy age—dost thou not reason it will get in the way?

THE DUKE (for a moment surely upset). Am sixty, she soon turns twenty-one; no matter! 'Age meaneth naught if tway art truly in love,' they say. Considering damsels easily fall prey to such claims, I know I'll acquire victory, Davidson—

Nothing can stop me. I have waited for years for such likelihood; I will be sovereign over all of England. The late king did me a big favor— (immense malice in tone) I loathed that good for nothing braggart! I swear to God I was going to be the one responsible for his death!

DAVIDSON. It would have not been easy to execute. Probably even impossible. Fortune smiled on thee committing regicide on thy behalf.

THE DUKE (with great satisfaction, while slowly nodding). Indeed, fortune smiled, Davison. Fortune really did smile!

SCENE V.

Dune in the cookery with his wife Gloria.

KARNU (cheerfully entering the room). Dune! Dune! (holding Dune on both shoulders) I've spoken with the priest, brother. I see clearly!

DUNE (raising hands to heaven). Finally—finally! You've grown up and stopped dreaming! That old man has helped thee see reason!

GLORIA (grabbing his hand). Ooh, sit down at the table, Karnu! Tell me, what did he say to thee?

KARNU. I've not known such words of wisdom, Gloria! (with much exhilaration) The priest, he's given me hope! For once, I see what I never before regarded. No longer Is she only my Queen and love—now she's the woman I'll espouse!

DUNE (suddenly enraged, a raised voice). Hast thou gone mad?! You've gone senseless, young brother! Espouse the Queen?! Thou?! I see that priest is far more tangled in mind than thee—

His old age hasn't made him wiser! No! No! It's only made him even more imprudent! You and him both are entirely misguided—how outrageous!

GLORIA (upset, she walks to him, hands on waist). Do not breathe these awful words against the servant of God, Dune! Though he be an old man, age hasn't taken a toll on his good judgement. He's a perfectly sane man!

DUNE. "Good judgment"? Tut-tut!

GLORIA. Why couldn't you only show confidence in thy brother? He's in love! It is not entirely Karnu's fault! His heart has chosen her. Shall you reason out the doings of the heart? You won't be able to beat the heart to thine own shaping—thou blacksmith!

DUNE (angrily pointing at Karnu). Not his fault?! He watches her every morn as she takes tea! Had he not been spying on her with his telescope, it would not have come to this—goodness gracious me! We should not even regard this a matter; he's acting like a child! Father and mater should not have given a telescope for thy eighteenth birthday! (biting his lips in annoyance, a fist) My boy, you well know; had he been still alive, thou would not have heard the last of it from father!

(calms himself) I know you would never dishonor a woman—but if the guards ever find out that you watch her, you'll be in big trouble! They'll reason you gaze upon her bareness!

GLORIA (laughs, placing her hand on forehead). Oh, Dune! You are now just letting thy imaginations run wild. Everyone knows the Queen loves taking her tea on that balcony. A custom she's been practicing ever since she was a little child; even with the king and Queen, before their passing— (laughing) She never is unclad there! And Karnu is not that kind of man—he'd not so dishonor a lady!

DUNE. Thou, the priest and the reassurance ye both art giving him will have him slain! She's not any of the unrefined maidens he encounters in the marketplace; nor is she one of his admirers—she is Queen!

With the death of the king, Her Majesty has ever continually been guarded! There are sentries all around the grounds of the palace! Thou wilt get us in trouble, Karnu!

(furious, with his finger pointing at Karnu). You should be dead for even thinking of turning thy eye on her! If this gets on the ears of a gossip, thou wilt be trialed and definitely hanged; the walls have got ears—we mustn't even whisper a thing concerning this!

GLORIA. Now I see you are just being unjustly suspicious. As a woman, I know I'd never have a man slain for fancying me— (coyishly) I actually would be rather flattered; Queen or not. You won't deny, many men have eyes for her, but Karnu here is the only one who is man enough to talk about and admit it.

DUNE (vexed). I can't believe this! You two just get on my nerves sometimes! (walks away, begins minding his own business)

GLORIA. Don't mind thy big brother, Karnu. (looking at Dune, with a raised, teasing tone, she speaks) He's just one of those people who are too afraid to follow what they really want in life, because it causes a little heartache and the circumstances do not sympathize with them! (Dune, in frustration, disapprovingly shaking his head; she sneers and carries on speaking with Karnu)

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Josephine moving with grace, adoring

the bloomed flowers of the Garden.

Birds chirping. Wind gently blowing.

The Duke approaches.

THE DUKE (standing a few steps away from her). Such a beautiful morning, my Queen! Don't you think?!

JOSEPHINE (turns to see who speaks, a warm smile). Indeed, it is! A pleasure to be in the gardens this time of the year! The stock and iris will bloom all through the summer; the aroma of each blossoming flower is to die for— (bends, smelling a flower)

(she faces his direction) It's comforting here—away from the demands of being Queen!

THE DUKE (gets closer). I realize thou came here for some peace and quiet—to be alone—

Thy guards, you need them not so afar off, my Queen. (looking around in a suspicious manner, gets closer, whispers) You never know who's scheming evil.

JOSEPHINE (with curiosity, she faces him, smiles). You speak as though am beyond the walls of the palace—

From where they are, the guards do see me—as do I them.

THE DUKE (draws nearer and whispers again). I speak of spies, my Queen. The maze of this extensive garden could be unsafe—

(faces his rear direction; in an upset tone, shouting impatiently) Guards! Guards! Guards!

GUARD 1 and 2 (approach). Your Grace! (bowing)

THE DUKE (barkingly). How dare ye let the young Queen be unaccompanied in the shrubberies?!

GUARD 1 (reverently). Your Grace, she insisted on being alone. We only are following orders.

THE DUKE (spitefully). Scum of the earth! Ye both well know she's never to be by herself! Thine is only to obey my comma— (interjected)

JOSEPHINE. That's enough, Duke Morven! (a short silence) You forget that I am Queen. I have the last say. I ordered them to leave me alone for a time—

(to the guards) I'll be fine—you have my leave. (guards leave)

Your Grace, I've not taken a liking to how you regard the royal servants and guards. It appears, with thee, I always have to restate who reigns sovereign over England.

THE DUKE (a slight bow). Pardon me, my Queen. I only do what I deem best for England.

JOSEPHINE. Only England?

THE DUKE (furtive). And for Her Majesty too, of course. (smiling in a stupidly affected manner, he bows head)

JOSEPHINE (while walking toward her initial station). Why didst thou come here, Duke?

THE DUKE. Your twenty-first birthdate is forthcoming. It's been customary for the Queen to share such special days with the people; thanks to the late king, thy father— (a somber tone) he'll be greatly missed. (enthusiastic) I came to enquire what my Queen wishes to see at the event!

JOSEPHINE. Is this not a task carried by the chamberlain? Thine is to deal with matters weightier than this. You've exceedingly abandoned your post.

THE DUKE. I resolved to take charge; that I may keep order and my Queen safe!

JOSEPHINE (a short reflective silence). If you insist—

You shall make known to the people that there shall be no bringing of offerings and gifts this year. Many of the crofters have not had a good yield; and we face unrest in our trades—none are to be required to bring any bestowments.

THE DUKE (argumentatively). My Queen, it is not of thy concern if they've had good yield or not! They have a duty as subjects to bring thee gifts! Thy father made this decree! We can't just go against our laws like that; it will soon give rise to disorder!

JOSEPHINE. When the people bring gifts, they will not have much for the coming winter. It will be hard for them to endure. Let them keep the little they have— (a short contemplative pause) As this, thou calleth, "law," solely has to do with me—I, hereafter, abolish it. If the people wish to do this, they shall do so of their own accord—but not this year. Only until they begin to get bountiful yields may they begin to bring bestowments—and only of their own accord.

THE DUKE (persists in the same mood). Your Majesty, this is inopportune! How certain art thou, they will, of themselves, choose to heed? Unless compelled to, people won't do that which they are told. You mustn't abrogate the law; reconsider thy decision, my Queen!

JOSEPHINE. Your Grace, thee of all should better know of the condition we are in. The severity of this must be evaded now, before most regions of England face famine—

If the people die of starvation, there will be no kingdom to rule; not for me and certainly not for thee to command. They have greater need of what they have than I. Let then recover from the last unfavorable reaping—which has not been easy on many—

(she moves a step from him, softly sniffs a flower) Moreover, kings and queens, princes and princesses will be thereat—noblemen and all degrees of the peerage in attendance; with better treasures than the innumerable peasantry of England could ever grant in a decade. My guests will be more than generous, as ever—bountifully bringing gifts on that day.

(going further away from him) Now, if you don't mind, I wish to be alone. I get back to my garden!

THE DUKE (sotto voce). Tut—how foolish and absurd.

JOSEPHINE. I beg your pardon?

THE DUKE (furtively). Your wish is my command! I will do as thou hast bidden, my Queen! (a bow, steamed, he leaves)

SCENE II.

Jeffrey working on a pair of shoes.

Karnu by the other side of the table dusting his hat.

JEFFREY. Karnu, together we've burned the candle at both ends, have been comrades a while. With the much hours we spend together, I believe two years is considerably enough to call thee, not only my friend, but my brother too— (a short pause)

Karnu, you shroud something from me?

KARNU (looking at him in amazement, he laughs). Shrouding something? Me? From whence do you get such silly ideas, Jeffrey?! And what persuades thee so?

JEFFREY (reluctant to answer).

KARNU. Jeffrey, how camest thou by that thought?

JEFFREY (he places the shoe on the table). Thou hast told me many of thy secrets—yet something of thee seems mysterious indeed.

KARNU (his eyebrows raised, curiously). What could that be?

JEFFREY. Through these years I have known thee, thou hast not expressed slight interest in any woman; not even in them that openly fancy thee, Karnu—

(cautiously, he slowly speaks) Dost thou have a preference for menfolk instead? Does not the shapely form of a damsel appeal to thee?

KARNU (after a hard laugh). I've not known a man unwittingly offensively honest as thee, Jeffrey—

(a short pause) I haven't made known certain interest in any maiden, but that shouldn't mean I take a liking to my fellow men.

JEFFREY (a dramatic sigh). Thank goodness it's not that. After this came to mind, working with thee has been rather uncomfortable these last few moons. I wouldn't know how I'd take learning that my friend is a uranist.

KARNU. You can have another sigh of relief now, because I am not. Be of good cheer.

JEFFREY (after a reflective silence). Then, if it's not that, what's the reason? You, not many days ago, became twenty-seven of age. Thou art in the flower of thine youth. A young man as thee, if not wedded, should be taking great pleasure in these days. (with a grin) Welcoming, with self-indulgent zeal, every damsel that life offers him—

(with an upset tone) All you do is work, work and more work! The only pleasures I've heard thee speak of are the walks you take in the woods with that auld telescope of thine! (a more maddened voice and hands raised up) To God, that isn't even amusement at all! Thou art greatly cryptic at times!

KARNU (laughs the more).

JEFFREY (whiningly). Being a man is hard work. A wife; children— (a contorted expression) They'll eat thee alive with their ever-coming needs! God knows I miss the days I could do whatsoever I pleased. I do love my wife, but matrimony is a prison at times.

KARNU (disapproving surprise). Prison?! (with enthusiasm in tone) I believe to be wedded to one you love is the richest thing that could ever happen to thee! Much more, knowing they adore thee alike would be the finest as I see it! At no time would I forsake that prison had I wedded the love of my life!

JEFFREY (a smirk). Love of thy life, eh? Which would that be? Not once in the past have I beheld thee brighten in this manner when only speaking of a maiden. Who is she?

KARNU (shy, recedes enthusiasm). I never said there was a maiden. Only do I think being in love is a beautiful thing. I do not reason matrimony and prisons have much in a similar way.

JEFFREY (ponders his words a moment). Young, and yet thy keen understanding of matters can be daunting; more so to a grown up as I am. I agree, I think matrimony has nothing to do with prisons too. It could be the concerns and responsibilities of being a father and husband are what I meant—

But as thou implied, if you love thy prized and they love thee, any trouble should be as nothing to ye both.

KARNU (smiles, in joy, he slaps the table, praising). Such is the manner of reasoning that proves life is worth the living!

JEFFREY (looking at him askance). I agree with thee. Yet don't think you can fool me, Karnu. Being in love is not unknown a thing to me. A man would never plainly speak as maidens do, warmly talking of love as you just did. Only when he's mindlessly in the clutches of a woman's allure will he voice such rapturous things of love. So, tell me, young man—who is she? Do I know her? Is she from around here? Tell me!

KARNU. It isn't as you've judged— (for a short while, silent as though not willing to say more)

I've been reading poesies lately. Unmistakably, they have left a stamp on me.

JEFFREY (dramatically pointing at him, an accusing tone). Aha—love poems! Striving to conceal your secret has only confirmed my suspicions! (much surprised) You really are in love! And it's apparent you haven't told her still. You should—you must— (a very short silence)

It's evident I won't get anything from thee. If so, let's just get back to work. We have a lot of shoe fixing today. (a pause, speaks portentously) I'd have thee know, Karnu. love, as contrived by its maker, is as a waking volcano. Sooner or later, its eager bubbling passion will burst forth. You won't keep mum forever, Karnu.

KARNU. I conceal nothing—believe me. (shyly retreating to the other end of the shop)

JEFFREY (incredulously). If thou sayest so, Karnu! If thou sayest so!

SCENE III.

At a public washing place.

GLORIA and FRIENDS.

FRIEND 1. Our young Queen is now becoming a woman! It's really going to be wonderful to see her! (cheerfully) 'Tis always a breathtaking experience to see royalty! (solemnly) She must be lonely though; without kindred. However does she manage it? It's sad.

FRIEND 2. My husband is now one of the royal guards. He told me she'll be wedded soon— (a whisper) to one of the princelings coming to the big party—undeniably.

GLORIA. Ye both always seek to find something to gossip about; aye nattering people's troubles! She does not appear to be concerned with nuptial matters. All you speak is hearsay!

FRIEND 3. How would you know, Gloria? We almost never see her, until these big events. The deaths of the King and Queen must be hard for Her Majesty! It's been almost two years—for her lamentations, she almost never leaves the palace. Hearsay is truth now!

GLORIA. When a woman is soon to be wedded, never is it a secret. But this is not just another woman we speak of—It's the Queen of England—

if that were the case, everyone would hear of it; it would not be left to presumption and gossip. Unless ye three do tell me all know of her marriage save her?

FRIEND 2 (rashly). Her Majesty does know of this! But only chooses to disregard the verity of it! On the word of my husband, she doesn't want it; she may well be wedded to the prince of Erin—

(whispers) He also says, His Grace, the Duke of Wulfrishire, he too has eyes for her.

GLORIA (a strongly disapproving tone). It seems you and that swill-belly of a husband only talk about other people's plights but thine! He's without doubt making things up!

FRIEND 2 (very upset). Gloria, my husband Is often a roaring drunk—I know; but he's no liar! Thine own husband is no saint either!

GLORIA. Ye are ever babbling! The Duke is an auld man; enough to be her Father! And concerning the Prince, some suppose so, only for England now trades with Ireland. Many have begun to guess that she most certainly will wed that prince—to strengthen our alliance and commerce. It hasn't been declared yet; ye all be silent and look to the doings of thine own lives—

(looking around) We must finish up here. This is a public place; people are waiting to use this water. You rumormongers only squander time!

FRIEND 1 (cheeky). Well, Gloria, only time will tell!

I know that after the forthcoming prestigious party, she most definitely will be needed to consider marriage; that's for certain!

ANNOUNCER (standing on a rostrum, calling for the people's attention).

FRIEND 2 (with nagging excitement). See?! See?! Look, it's the announcer! He's finally about to affirm Her Majesty's long-awaited marriage! See, Gloria—we told thee!

GLORIA (vexed). Ugh, keep quiet! You always speak before you listen. let's hear what he has to say!

ANNOUNCER. Hear ye! Hear ye! In a fortnight, the Queen, Josephine, will make merry for her twenty-first birthdate! Her Majesty is well aware of the hardships her people now face! For this purpose, by decree of Queen Josephine the Kind, the edict to bring bestowments, effected by the late King Bromwell VI, her father, is hence abrogated! As a gift from Her Majesty to her people, all are invited to the festivity! (announcer leaving, people rejoicing)

GLORIA (stern). Dost thou see?! Dost thou see?! Ye ladies talk too much! I hope the humiliation you feel keeps thee hushed for now!

(appreciatively) A benevolent thing that Her Majesty has compassion on the people. Bringing gifts would have made life a lot more grueling for all who already now struggle.

SCENE IV.

At the church.

PRIEST. You cared not for prayer, young cobbler. Wilt thou not tell Why?

KARNU (after a short, timid silence). Ashamed—I was ashamed, priest.

PRIEST. What is it that covers thee with such disgrace upon thy face?

KARNU (loath to speak a short while). Since the death of my parents, I've abhorred God. (bows head in embarrassment) Hearing of him—makes me ireful—

(clasping the priest's hand, sorrowfully) Why did he let my dear ones die?! In the hour I needed them most, he took them away!

PRIEST (a gentle tone and look). Young cobbler, hast thou ever bothered to questioned and know why it is effortless for mankind to condemn God for every seeming evil?

KARNU (incensed and in pain). It is he who has formed us! "Thou hast made all men with one breath of life— "'I have kneaded thee from the dust with my holy oil.'" Dost thou not bespeak these words to thy flock?! 'Tis well reasonable for men to impute blameworthiness on him! Is he not omniscient?! And if he is all-compassionate, he must have vetoed the deaths of those we love! (in agony, bows head to the floor) The ones I love! (begins to sob)

PRIEST. It is thy understanding of death you must abhor. Thine own ignorance will aye keep thee in agony—

Without death, there is no life; you came to the earth on time, thy parents too. That the hour to depart arrives, you wish them to linger? Thou hast come on time and thou will leave on time; and how this transpires is not of great magnitude.

KARNU (shaking head in disagreement). But wha—no—no, priest! (fumbles for seconds more) Those they leave behind, Is God unbothered with their troubles caused by unbearable grief?!

PRIEST. The care he holds in giving, is alike when he takes—

When thy parents took away your playthings, did it present a loathing for thee?

KARNU (looks him in the eyes). No, it did not!

PRIEST. That which is given will be taken away, young cobbler—

At once, allow me speak in earthly wisdom that thou may partly know. This land is not sufficient as to be subjugated to many generations. If men merely birthed and never died, in due course, they would call him a laughingstock—find fault with God—speaking of how there's little room on his earth. Men shall ever murmur—

Once, you were a babe, and now, a man; yet your mind has not sprouted—and thine own spirit is still that of a babe. Men value physical stature, and never give heed to their spiritual and mental stature. Grow, young cobbler—grow.

KARNU. How shall I bear the aches of losing them?

PRIEST. When you fathom that they are not lost. When we remember that we shall see them again—

Tell me, young cobbler, would you weep for one who doffed their garment that they may be donned with another?

KARNU. No, I would not—that would be silly of me!

PRIEST. Then why dost thou go on mourning when thy father and mater have only taken off their frames? Your tears for the dead would soon count as nothing to thee if you were shown the truth. Without the taking off of our garments, we shall sleep forever— (a short pause)

If you wish to weep for the death of the ones you love, do so because of the joy they brought. Do so, because, they, like such a one going on a long journey, will be missed for a time. But not because you believe thou wilt never see them again—

But when you know the truth, even death will be to thee a dear friend. If men will take a moment to grow, they will leave behind ignorance, who is the greatest enemy—far greater than death himself. And they may speak to death, if they so please, who will reveal to them the secrets of immortality—if that is what they seek.

KARNU. I'll not make-believe I fathom all these things thou hast shown me, Priest. Only this day, I now know the depth of my ignorance—

(a reflective silence) Death has come for the forbidden fruit that mother and father did eat. Why did almighty God permit they do this?

PRIEST (a very short silence). Clandestine; and beyond this is immortality— (a short pause)

This world is one of death and decay, young cobbler. All that dies, lives; all that lives, dies. Everything shapes everything. One thing is lord over all; all things are lord over one. One is all; all is one. Nothing ends, nothing starts. You will be happy today and miserable tomorrow—woeful this moment and in high spirits the next; this is the great balance of life. If you seek to live in heaven whilst on earth—as Enoch did—then, find the kingdom and know the will of the heavenly Father; that it may be done for thee on earth as it is in heaven. Even thine own Savior instructed thee in these things. Until you do it, young cobbler, good and evil, joys and pains, the enjoyments and the hurts of this dead world will always be your lot.

KARNU. But, priest, the one you call my Savior speaks vaguely; elusive words! How does that even help me?

PRIEST. Jesus won't be broken from the unclear scriptures; the unclear scriptures are people's fables, but in reality, they are man's greatest weapon—

KARNU (in slight frustration). Ugh, even thine own words elude me! (a short contemplative silence)

(Inquisitively) Hast thou spoken to death, priest?

PRIEST. Yes, I have, Karnu.

KARNU (eagerly, he draws nearer). Of what matters didst thou speak?! Did he reveal to thee the mysteries of immortality?! Tell me, priest! Tell me all he said!

PRIEST (draws him with his hand, places him on his right side). Sit here. I see your craving for knowledge is keen, young cobbler—

These are the accounts of the words I had with the Spirit of Death and that of Life—

To Death, I said: "How do I find eternal life?"

Death, said: "Hide from me."

I said: "How shall I hide from thee?"

Death, said: "Catch me."

I said: "How shall I catch thee?"

Death, said: "Forget me."

I said: "How shall I forget thee?"

Death, said: "Believe in life."

When I had ceased speaking to death, he showed me the abode of life. I sought out his wisdom too and these are the words we spoke—

I said: "How shall I escape the curse of death?"

Life, said: "Believe in me."

I said: "How shall I believe in thee?"

Life, said: "Forget death and receive life as your timeless portion."

I said: "How shall I do this?"

Life, said: "Let go of the one who calls death."

I said: "Who calls death?"

Life, said: "Sin."

I said: "Where is sin?"

Life, said: "At your door step."

I said: "How shall I let go of him?"

Life, said: "You must rule over him. When you entirely rule over sin, death will not find thee. As death has no claim on he who has not sinned."

KARNU (impatiently). Did eternal life make known to thee how to entirely rule over sin?

PRIEST. Nay. Hastily, he departed from me—

Life said I must run after him to find and get the unknown; this he demands a man to do that he may make known his mysteries. I have, since my youth, pursued him. He's sworn that if I clasp him, immortality will be my ultimate reward. (a short pause)

Yet, this mystery he spoke to me before his complete departure—

"Live till you die—"

"Die till you live—"

"Continue to die, until you live to eternal life.

SCENE V.

KARNU and DUNE.

KARNU (on the floor working on a pair of shoes, ecstatic). In a fortnight, my beloved grows in her magnificence yet again—I am so happy! It may not be as luxurious, but it's from my heart! I am one of the best cobblers in our town, I'll make the finest of shoes she's ever seen!

DUNE (a sigh, striking his forehead in despair). You speak as though thou wilt offer it in person. Gifts may only be presented by the delegate of this dukedom; you know this. Besides, not all shall be shown her.

KARNU. I know I won't give it in person; my love will speak in these shoes! She will know!

DUNE (a pitying voice). Oh, little brother. Why are you doing this to yourself? Thou maketh a motley of thyself. Your world is an illusion, Karnu. Art thou, even so, my same little brother? Surely you could not be. The one I do recall used to be reasonable—

when you came to me overjoyed from the woods, tway years back, and said you discovered a precious thing, I did believe you found gold in the mountains. But, nay, you just saw the Queen. Now your boyish cravings and infatuations for her will be thy downfall!

KARNU (frustrated, stands). What is my fault, big brother?! I am in love—you should be happy for me!

DUNE (while throwing his hands in the air in a disapproving manner). Ugh! (turns his back to him)

KARNU. I would love another if I could! I've tried. My efforts ever face failure—

I see her in every maiden! Countless moments, nearly have I named another, 'Josephine.' To let go? I've striven letting go—

(in a hopeless tone) I've pleaded with my soul to love another, but this vile wretched thing sneers at my supplications! Do you think I do not know the folly of my love?! The unlikelihood of not realizing this desire?! I have lost sleep sundry nights—I still do, because of her! My heart ever troubles me with queries of how I shall see her, if I'll be worthy enough to make her acquaintance—

(goes back to his shoes) My doubts already give me the nagging I deserve! Please leave me be and allow my heart speak its passion—let me be!

DUNE. I would support you in anything, Karnu. You know I would! But this stupidity is getting out of hand; It must stop! (Gloria walks in)

(facing her) Gloria, I'm pleading with you, darling! Stop accompanying him on this path of madness and tell the truth of this foolish thing he holds to! (ridiculing tone) Now he speaks of making shoes for her?! (facing heaven) What is this curse our family now faces?!

GLORIA (a tense silence, looking at Karnu sympathetically). I just came from the market place. The announcer read an edict that the Queen won't accept any gifts this year. None shall be allowed at the event—they won't be received.

KARNU (exasperated, going).

GLORIA (running after him). Karnu, wait! All are invited to the big party! You may see her!

KARNU (irritated the more). Ugh, come on, gloria! Even you do not really believe that! It always is the well-bred who ever attend! Before the list of all the titled is completed, the place shall be bursting already! (pathos) Plebs like you and I, we never get in. (stomps out)

SCENE VI.

Karnu in a meadow. He sits by a rock.

Pensively staring at the bright full moon.

KARNU (remains for some moments more in deep thought, thinking out loud). My Queen, thou hast become the peace and torment of my existence. And even to touch, how I may embrace thee, I find not. But as I am, I trust the wind will carry my whispers to soul. Thy presence is far from me; I speak to your soul, now. Please, my love, wait thou for me—wait for me. I know not what I will do, how I'll at last be with thee. All that I can, is hope my love for thee will find a way. I cannot, to face, speak of the depth of it; but they that have witnessed will tell of one who loves thee so. When thou fix thy gaze to the moon, the stars, and bathe in the bright sun, thou wilt wonder whence thine own love might be. The moon has watched me watch thee; the sun has smiled a million times when I speak thy name; and the stars, oh, yea, the stars—they have shone brighter with every syllable. The wind will carry my love to thee; my herald—

On the wings of the wind, my voice echoes; on the wings of the wind, thine ears attend to the words of my tongue. Even now, my treasured—aye, this very moment, you read the epistle on the wings of the wind. Let thine heart attend to my still voice; wait for me, Josephine. You are loved—much loved—

Give not thine heart to another; wait thou for me—

(snaps out of it) Ugh— (a reprimanding tone) what sayest thou, Karnu? (a deep sigh) Surely, I am completely out of my skull. (facing the sky, somberly speaks) I have become a fool; a fool for thee, Josephine. Pray I my folly steers me to thy embrace.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

At the party.

All in eager anticipation awaiting the Queen.

ANNOUNCER (a very loud and plummy voice). Attention ye all and bow for the Queen as she graces us with her resplendent presence! (all bow)

(royal servant hastily going before the Queen) Make way for the Queen! Make way for the Queen—

PRINCE OF IRELAND (suddenly emerges from the crowd; and in a rushed, overly inappropriate manner, he grabs the Queen's hand; a smooth, deep and youthful baritone voice). Your Majesty, a royal charm as yourself needn't walk alone. More so on this delightful day of thy birth—whose luster and light makes all others appear ill-starred in comparison. Suffer another sovereign walk beside thee.

COMMANDER (incensed). You dare touch the Queen without her approval?! (all around anxiously looking)

JOSEPHINE (gentle). It's alright, Commander—

(facing the prince, suppressing her displeasure, she speaks) I believe our guest, prince Mathghamhain, is not acquainted with our custom.

PRINCE OF IRELAND (exclaiming to all around, markedly dishonest). Yes—yes, indeed! The Queen is right! (to the Commander) Forgive me. I didn't realize it was such a death-worthy thing to touch Her Majesty!

(soft music begins playing) A dance, Your Majesty? (a slight bow)

JOSEPHINE (loth, she leaves his requesting hand midair).

PRINCE OF IRELAND (a soft, provocative voice). Her Majesty can dance, yes? Or, is she still infantile and needs must call for permission from her ever-prying— (looking at the Commander, who's a step away from them, he speaks condescendingly) bodyguard?

JOSEPHINE (triggered by his words). I will dance—

PRINCE OF IRELAND (music endures, steadily looking her in the eyes). I must say, Josephine—I have not, in all three realms, beheld such— (a short reflective pause, slowly, emphatically speaks) allure—

JOSEPHINE (rolls eyes in disgust at his remark, she looks away a moment, sighs, faces him again, speaks in a noticeably slightly annoyed tone). Is that all you see—allure?

PRINCE OF IRELAND. Oh, but do not be offended, Your Majesty—

You are, it must be said, extraordinarily beautiful. Maybe you haven't noticed, everyone is staring at thee—and most of the maidens and ladies do so with blistering envy— (a short pause)

(a grin) None more offended than your very own royal guests.

JOSEPHINE. You misjudge the whole situation—

We are encircled by all. Whither else dost thou imagine they'll look?

PRINCE OF IRELAND. No, Queen. Even though this day be special and thine, I guarantee thee, I do not misconstrue— (a short silence)

Do you know why a lady may hate another for no cause? For the most part, at an occasion?

JOSEPHINE (sickened, loath to answer).

PRINCE OF IRELAND (slowly turning his neck side to side to make his point). Look at all the men round about thee—they cannot take their eyes off of thee— (a chuckle) even the older ones. This? —oh, this—so insupportable to thy fellow fairer sex. Had they an occasion, only heaven knows the misdeeds they would do to thee. (a self-satisfied smile) Beauty tends to be a blessing and a curse—eh, Your Majesty?

JOSEPHINE. Your shallow perception of what's happening around thee usually breeds trouble, I suppose?

PRINCE OF IRELAND (chuckles). Denying plain truth won't change how everyone feels about you— (a pause, he looks around again)

(with abhorrence in tone) Only, I do not quite comprehend why you consented to having commoners be part of this prestigious event. They soil it with their low-priced apparel and entire presence.

JOSEPHINE. They are my people— (a pause)

It's even a shame that only a handful could enter; I'd gladly have all of England in here if 'twere commodious enough.

PRINCE OF IRELAND (strongly disapproving). You certainly do not mean that—

(revolted tone) God, you can smell the stench of beggary on them— (a pause)

When am King, by thy side, no commoner will have the liberty of even breathing the same air as royalty. I'll make sure of that.

JOSEPHINE (sighs in disgust). You Irishmen always did have the tendency to counting your chickens before they hatch—

shall thy father be firm that Ireland be adjoined to England?

PRINCE OF IRELAND. You so pooh-pooh this—why?

JOSEPHINE (loath to answer).

PRINCE OF IRELAND (a chuckle). Even in the days of King Bromwell VI, thy father, my King sighed for it—

He has a revelation for these three realms. The Scot, Erin and England will become a mighty force if we hold hands. Who knows? Even the entire world may someday be ours. And the best part of it all? (a short pause) You and I will be guaranteed rulership over the whole lot.

JOSEPHINE. Quite enticing, thy speech. But I know better than to think our three realms could ever see eye to eye. Even thy people so clearly denounce the English. This thing thou now sayest, ye Irishmen have much more to gain; I just don't see it yet.

PRINCE OF IRELAND. So untrusting—like thy father. What could we possibly be really after—other than the lordship of all three realms? My king even suggested he would consider bowing to thee.

JOSEPHINE. "Overbearing", is how the Irish have ever regarded England. Does not thy realm fear to suffer the loss of its valued individuality in surrender to us?

PRINCE OF IRELAND. Know thee how the Irish really came to be, Your Majesty? I'll tell thee. Over a century ago, when our Celtic ancestors were fleeing their enemy from the north, the waters of the ocean brought them to beautiful, uninhabited lands; it was going to be their new home. Knowing the enemy would still hunt and finish the last of them, they made the painful choice of separating into tway; one was to lead that unremitting foe away from the other. The one company with the most youthful remained, granted sanctuary by the mountains and caves; while the other was bait. With their lives, they paid the price for preservation. And from ashes, tears, and sorrow, Ireland was borne from they that remained. You see, Queen, we the Irish know the meaning of sacrifice. Our Celtic blood knows when to sacrifice for the greater good—

All we have to do, my dear Queen, is wed. Scotland, even in its obstinacy, will eventually have no choice but to bow before us— (he presses her much closer to himself, slow voice) when we merge—as one.

JOSEPHINE (rather vexed; pulls herself a little further from him). As I said before, "counting your chickens before they hatch."

PRINCE OF IRELAND. Perhaps you're right. (sharp stare, in a smooth tone, he confidently speaks) But I like to think of it as counting my blessings instead—

(with a windy and smoother tone, while gradually leaning in to kiss her) One can never really tell what having a little faith may hatch.

JOSEPHINE (dodges his kiss). And clearly thy faith is blind— (soft music stops, cheerful music begins to play, everyone moves in to dance)

(moves a step away from him) Lovely, sharing that dance with thee. (turns to leave)

PRINCE OF IRELAND (rashes, holds her by her hand, he somewhat begs). Wilt thou not delight me with thy presence a little bit longer, Queen?

JOSEPHINE (a false smile, clearly unwilling). I'd love to— (a pause)

but I must attend to my other guests. Not only you were invited to this occasion.

PRINCE OF IRELAND. Then I shall await thee.

JOSEPHINE. Do as you please. (leaves)

SCENE II.

GLORIA and FRIENDS.

FRIEND 1 (with awe and adoration). Oh, how charmingly arrayed she was in her purple velvet dress! Undeniably becoming! (dramatic) She emerged—all bowed; gracefully she walked—with dignity and elegance—just as royalty should be! I envy her—

All her birthdates are momentous; to say the least of their exquisitely proper decors! Beyond all doubt, yester-even will certainly be a one to longingly remember!

FRIEND 2 (with eagerness). Didst thou also get to see the charming Prince of Ireland? I learned he was the attraction of the party—he and the Queen both!

FRIEND 1. Certainly! The men couldn't get their eyes off of the Queen—

Where's the women— (with a wishful tone) ooh, even I didn't get my eyes off of him. Couldn't even do my service aright. I spilled a glass of wine on a noble. It got me in trouble. (covers face in shame, sudden delight) Yet still, it was worth it—

Ooohhh, he's so chaaarming! And maaasculine! And chaaarming! Ooh, an impeeccccable man! Sooo peeerrrrfect! Those two deserve to be together; a lovely couple they make!

GLORIA (disapprovingly). Only because they look good together, doesn't mean they deserve each other.

FRIEND 2 (irritated). Tut-tut! You always have something adverse to say, Gloria! Such a grouchy makestrife you are!

GLORIA (defensive). Am just saying! It's never about how one makes you look; it's how they make you feel.

FRIEND 1 and 2 (both mock and laugh).

FRIEND 1. Real life is not as kind, Gloria! (both laughing harder)

GLORIA. Laugh all you want! But everyone knows she clearly can't suffer him a second longer! I heard he dared try to kiss her before all; without her consent. So presumptuous—

For royalty, he's an ill-mannered prince if you ask me!

FRIEND 1. Say all you want! It doesn't change the certainty that he's enrapturing to look upon! (yearningly) had I been the Queen, I'd marry that prince in a tick!

GLORIA (disgust in tone). Of course, you would!

SCENE III.

EDA and KARNU.

EDA (upon sight of him, she adjusts her dress and the buttons covering her bosom to make it more revealing, a thrilled mood). Oh, Karnu, my love! I've been longing to see thee—

wilt thou shun me forever?

KARNU. You know very well why I eschew thee, Eda. Not all men will welcome your coquettish dispositions.

EDA (remorsefully). Are the confessions of my love to thee a stench? Do get back to me; oh, you did too, growing up, make me feel like a housing box.

KARNU. You need not feel guilt-ridden. You've done no wrong—

Only, am unable to give back the love thou seeketh of me.

EDA (suppliant manner). Karnu, dost thou not see my love for thee? All these years, trying to win you over; you, my one and only love! Shalt thou ever suffer a lady do for a man that which he ought to do for her?

KARNU. For one who professes to only love me, you certainly do have a lot of lovers, Eda.

EDA (coy and defensive). What would you have me do, my beloved? My one and only never has granted me the attention I deserve— (in a flirtatious manner) It is to a lady bread and butter, you know. I go find it elsewhere; where I am needed and appreciated.

KARNU. Good for thee. Am pleased you've found those who attend. (going)

EDA (she flies after him, stands in his way). Whither, my love?

KARNU. I must go now. The path is narrow and I carry hefty tools; make way.

EDA. Why the haste? Aren't you happy to see me? Stay a little longer—

Come with me. let as forsake the footpath. (seducingly) We may even go yon woods that thou mayest romance me. (lovingly touching his right arm)

KARNU (shrugs, backs away from her).

EDA (slowly making steps toward him). Are you truly afraid of me? I cannot imagine why. (a lascivious smile) Do you fear you'd come apart in surrender to the warmth of my touch?

KARNU (a sigh, with a disappointed tone). You never change, Eda. Ever throwing yourself in the arms of men who don't deserve.

EDA (suddenly throwing herself upon his breast). But, Karnu, my love—of all I've ever wanted, thou art most deserving! You deserve all of me; wholly!

KARNU (pulling her away from himself). Do not give me those come-hither eyes. I do not—I do not love thee—

I would not deserve any affection you offer. I must hurry—a lot of work to do. Please, get out of my way.

EDA (blocking him, more coquettish tone). Oh, Karnu! Your courage to reject makes me want thee the more! The men in this town are goats— (repulsed facial expression) pooh, the drama! As though they've never seen a woman before; ever striving to make a lady bed with them. Many of the good looking and faithful ones are now either married or plighted to another. Thou art one of the very few loyal and fetching! (a short melancholic silence) My beloved, hear these sad words from she that stands before thee for thy taking. (throws herself onto him again, a glint of gloom) Happiness, escapes me—true happiness. (suddenly joyful) Yet in thine eyes I've seen mine soul pure and jubilant before me! Plight your troth—lead me to the altar! Yah, In the day of lust and in gown of nuptial gloriole I—yeh—I, shall sit by thee as thine only bride to take home for thy pleasures! Thou art untouched— (possessively) you must be mine, Karnu—mine!

KARNU (pulls her away from himself again, sarcastic tone). You wish to find a man who's faithful? Why don't you become faithful yourself first?

EDA (remorsefully). Oh, do not mock me, beloved—It pains me so. I'll be loyal to thee, Karnu! (abruptly places his palms upon her bosom, a seductive tone). I and my affections will be thine only; all mine favors a thine, Karnu!

KARNU (quickly pulling his arms from her). Forgive me, Eda. I care not for thy affections!

EDA (furious, she throws his hands away from her). Who's this woman that has so taken thy heart you regard not my love and only see it as kine filth?!

KARNU (uneasy, he looks away from her gaze). I know nothing of what you speak, Eda.

EDA (she turns to face him). I know you love another; even if you deny it!

KARNU. How wilt thou know this?

EDA. Disinclined to loving another, as I am to any else for thee—

(possessive and insistent) Tell me, Karnu—who is she? (begins lovingly holding herself) Is she fairer than I—the desirable Eda? Surely, she couldn't be. (begins to slowly turn around in a suggestive fashion) Since the dawn of my womanhood, I've not known shortcomings as to my frame. They that I've permitted searched me entirely, more's the pity, none were found. I am better in every way—every man's requested wish to God. The dream woman a man longs to wield—as he so desires—upon his return from the odious drudgery of the day— (throws herself onto him, looking him straight in the eyes) But I've surrendered all I am to thee! For I love you, Karnu! And I have proven my love to thee—have I not?

KARNU (pulls her away from himself). You would prove thy love for countless eternities, Eda. To me, it would be as the rising and setting of the sun— (calm and emphasis) it would mean nothing.

EDA (heatedly angered). I shall slay this woman that gives thee the courage to say so cruel a thing to me!

KARNU. In that day, you would kill me too; I'd be dead beside my heart—

I am sorry, Eda. I cannot grant thee this love you need of me. Find it elsewhere. I cannot love thee.

EDA (a fuming raised voice). So, there's another?! Who is she, Karnu?! Tell me!

KARNU (he keeps his calm). Yes, Eda. I love another. Of whom I speak, I'll not tell thee— (a short pause)

Now you know. Pray I thou wilt henceforth leave me be. Only her do I adore. To her, and only to her, shall I ever plight my heart.

EDA (silent, breathing heavily and staring at him in rage).

KARNU. Adieu, Eda. (walks away)

SCENE IV.

Council Assembly.

COUNCIL MEMBER (headstrong). My Queen, I stalwartly believe it's in England's best interests if you accept this proposal! We couldn't allow such an opportunity pass us by! let us seize it—without delay!

JOSEPHINE. In England's best interests, it might be. In mine, I wouldn't say the same thing—

and I'll appreciate it if ye put that into regard!

COUNCIL MEMBER. Thy thoughts upon the matter are not unheeded, my Queen—

I just strongly trust Her Majesty should consider the Irishman's request for her hand. It will prove advantageous for all, eventually!

COUNCIL MEMBER. I agree! This will strengthen our weakening bond with them! Commerce betwixt the Irish and the English has, even before the death of the late king, proven to be more profitable for us; a union with them will guarantee this to a greater extent. It is the wisest thing to do now!

JOSEPHINE. Am I not capable of leading the kingdom without a man by me? I've done it these past two years, have I not?

COUNCIL MEMBER. It is true, Your Majesty. Thou hast led England wisely than anticipated!

JOSEPHINE (scoffs while looking the other way).

COUNCIL MEMBER (bows head). I mean no disrespect, my Queen. Only a lass you were when coronated Queen of England. It is no secret that some thought it not a prudent thing to do— (a short pause)

A strong arm by thy side will not be the only good that comes from this union. Even the planned submission, when the Irish bow to England, we shall not only enlarge, but be stronger too. The people of England will surely esteem and have confidence in thee as a worthy leader!

JOSEPHINE (growing irate, slightly raised voice). Do they not already have faith in me as it is? Do they not esteem me so?

COUNCIL MEMBER (insistently). You need a man—a King—by thy side! It is only expected for a maiden as thee; it's thy bounden duty to fulfill!

JOSEPHINE (infuriated, a stern gaze, facing all from side to side; with both hands, she tightly holds the arm-rests of the throne and leans forward, a raised voice). I need no King by me! I am sovereign as I am; and I do not wish to have it any other way! (in dread, all silent a short while)

THE DUKE (rashly). The Queen is right! We cannot hastily accept this proposal! let us bear in mind that England is already far better than they!

Truth be told, it is surely in the Irish's best interest if this union happens! We must judge rightly by this matter; lest we give Ireland an irreversible foothold over us!

COUNCIL MEMBER. Then let us look within our own walls! She must consider the Duke of Henchelon; His Grace, Henry Redgrave—

He's been recently widowed; a yet vivacious and scholarly gentleman—an astute kind of a man he is! He, also, is eligible to espoused Her Majesty; if uniting with a foreign one is out of the question! (most council members approving)

THE DUKE. We mustn't demand this of Her Majesty. The deaths of the late King and Queen even now tarry in everyone's mind; we all still lament. Let us wait for her; for she grieves—

Besides, bring not politics in affairs of the heart.

COUNCIL MEMBER. Politics is all there is when it comes to this kingdom, Duke Moven. We couldn't refute this fact—

Every decision the crown makes must consequently be for the good of England!

COUNCIL MEMBER. My Queen, you couldn't be silent forever on this matter. Do say something!

JOSEPHINE (after a short tense silence, she stands from her throne, a deep breath, her feet firm on the dais, lordly and calmly, she speaks). I'll not be joined to the prince of Erin; neither will England! Our dealings with them shall be of trade lone, nought else! (a silence)

COUNCIL MEMBER (cautiously). And—the Duke of Henchelon, Your Majesty?

JOSEPHINE (silent a moment). I shall pay heed to it—the (emphatically) proposition! In the interim, as His Grace, Duke Morven, has spoken— (in an obviously goldbricking manner) suffer me procrastination and time, that I may entirely grieve my deceased parents! Then shall we speak of nuptial matters!

SCENE V.

Priest standing at podium giving a sermon.

PRIEST. 'TIs expected of man to ascribe the things that happen to him as arising from God or a devil. It's awaited of him to condemn God or a devil in times of trouble; and also, even worse to claim our blessings are a consequence of our love for God. Such is the unwise proclamation of men who think their pious acts are of any imperative eternal benefit to an immortal Creator. Soon after, this only makes them of feeble faith believe they are not virtuous enough and should labor to earn God's free gifts—

"Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground." In these words, man has all he needs: God's love, his blessings, his care and all else he may require. When thou do aid men to see their power through the choices they make, when they fully realize that God has no say in men's lives and that a devil only has control to the extent that men believe he has power over them, as dominion is entirely man's, thou wilt assist men to begin to reason and become responsible in and of their own actions—

Thy brief life is as a dolphin's swift emergence from the waters and the plunging therein. It breathes God's beautiful air for a time, relishes the wonderful scenery—the world about it. No sooner it wholly fathoms its descension than the force of life lures it back into the infinite ocean whence it came; this is man's return to the dust—

The concise life you have, live. Those beautiful yet testing choices that will bring gladness in thy speck of a life, make—

Forgive thy offenders; share with thy neighbor; let love design every thought, knowing that you cannot love any other but thyself. When you seek to love men as others, thy love will wane. But when you realize that all men are thee, thy love will last. See all men as yourself and thou wilt embrace them with love; as we are told to "love thy neighbor as you love thyself." Loving thy fellow men will bury thee in the perfection that God and men so earnestly seek—

The world is rich with persons who are fearful of speaking a word first; a word that might change everything. Do not suffer thyself to fret. If the matter goes thy way or not, fear not this; only know that letting others see thy thoughts is that bridge of understanding that men have always needed.

But if you don't speak thy heart, men will impose themselves on thee and in that day, thy life will cease to be lived by thee—

Believe me, nothing is as ever peerless as a man's love for God and God's love for man. So, above all else, love God with all thyself, and thou wilt truthfully embrace death; the great fear by man shall become to thee a dear friend— (a short pause)

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen!

Now, let us all bow our heads in reverent silence to God! (all heads bowed)

SCENE VI.

Josephine, Maggie and the Commander walking through a crowd.

JOSEPHINE (suddenly stops).

COMMANDER (looking behind, he sees Josephine, who's motionless as one who's seen a ghost; rashes to her, impatiently whispering). We must go, my Queen. The priest has settled today's service; there's nothing more left for thee here.

JOSEPHINE (much alarmed and with excitement, she turns to Maggie, who's behind her). Maggie! Maggie! Maggie! 'Tis he! 'Tis he! 'Tis he! (pointing at a man in the crown) 'Tis really him!

MAGGIE (striving to see whom she speaks of). Who art thou pointing at? And of whom dost thou speak, my Queen?

JOSEPHINE (with impatience as though she expected Maggie to soon understand, and agitated hand gestures). The man from my dream! (looking at Maggie with much impatience)

MAGGIE. What man? What dream, my Queen? We need to leave; you heard the Commander.

COMMANDER. My Queen, whatever art thou talking about? I must bring thee back safely to the palace.

JOSEPHINE (anxious and adamant). He's the one; am certain of it—

(overwrought) Commander, he's getting further away! Dost thou know him? (pointing) There—him—the man; he's walking out!

COMMANDER (striving to see). There's plenty of men here, my Queen; they all are walking out.

JOSEPHINE. Follow me, I'll show thee! (grabs his hand, she rashes to the church entrance)

(pointing) Him, Commander. The man with the black hat; dost thou now see?

COMMANDER. I see him—

I'll later seek to learn who he might be, my Queen. I can't leave thee out here alone. It's my charge to be with thee at all times.

JOSEPHINE (same impatient mood). No! Follow; find out—

Identifying him at a later time may come to nothing!

COMMANDER (loth to leave).

JOSEPHINE. Follow him now! We'll be here awaiting thee— (impatiently, frantically pointing) Go now! See—see, he gets farther and farther away; fading in the throng and may soon make turn!

COMMANDER. But, Your Majesty—I couldn't—(interjected)

MAGGIE (with a motherly and calm tone). We'll be fine, Commander. Just do what she's asked; we await thee right here.

COMMANDER (after a moment of disinclination). Draw no attention to yourselves; no one can find out who you are. Not all are fond of royalty. Wait here; I'll soon be back. (hurriedly leaves)

MAGGIE (after a short silence between both, she looks at Josephine). My young Queen, do you mean the young man from the dream you told me tway fortnights past?

JOSEPHINE (nods). The selfsame dream I saw my beloved mater. Thou didst mention I'd see him before long; thou weren't mistaken.

MAGGIE (a smile). Yes, I did.

(teasingly) And what does my Queen intend to do when the Commander tells her who the young man is?

JOSEPHINE. I haven't pondered as far— (shy, in avoidance, she moves a few steps from Maggie back into the church; after a somewhat lengthy silence between both, she abruptly has a mild defensive outburst). You mock me, Maggie; I know this! Though unspoken, it is well inferred in your query—

I only was stirred up to see him; a person I haven't known ere—only but in night vision—and I want to know who he might be! Do I err in this?

MAGGIE (a smile). No, my Queen. It is a thing to wonder at, that one you've only seen in dream suddenly emerges even in thy waking; you ought to know who he might be. (a short silence, jestingly) I do call to mind, you said the younker kissed thee in the dream—are you to make this certain even in thy waking?

JOSEPHINE (red-faced). Oh, Maggie— (shyly smiling) stop with this waggishness.

Neither did I say I'll be entangled with him in any fashion. His name is all I wish to know—that is all. After that, I'll put behind the memory of him.

MAGGIE. I know thee, my Queen. I've been with thee since your birth. When curious, thou shan't stop at nothing until no stone is unturned. 'Tis more than his name you want— (hurried footsteps approaching)

(turns to see) Commander!

COMMANDER. My lady.

JOSEPHINE (rashes to him). You've returned!

(speaking in haste) Dost thou have his name, Commander?! Who is he?! Is he from nigh?! Wherefore dost thou say nothing?! Say something! Speak! Speak! Speak!

MAGGIE. Perhaps he'd answer thee if you kept still?

JOSEPHINE (embarrassed for Maggie's words, fidgetingly steps back from the Commander, stammering, she speaks). Yo-you may speak, Co-commander.

COMMANDER. They say he goes by the name 'Karnu'— (with slight amazement and bewilderment) I don't know why he'd gain your attention in this manner anyway. He's just a simple cobbler; nothing worth thy concern— (looking around paranoically)

Everyone's left. We are already late—we must go now. We wouldn't want people to know that the Queen sneaks out—not even the royal servants can have knowledge of this. It wouldn't be safe beyond the palace any more than it already isn't.

JOSEPHINE (jestingly). Are the people wolves in the waiting to assail and devour?

MAGGIE. He's only doing as he's been charged to do, my Queen. (a pause)

Art thou content that you've learned who he is? The Commander's right. It's getting late; eve hastily approaches. We must set off this instant.

JOSEPHINE (in a jocular manner, she begins to make haste as to leave them behind). Then what art thou waiting for?! (Maggie, smiley for Josephine's playful mood)