CHARACTERS IN THIS SCENE:
SOMMERS: The fool in Albion’s palace and one of King Bors’ closest friends and confidants.
KENT: The suitor chosen for Princess Lia of Albion, by her father.
ATTENDANT 2: Attendant in the Palace of Albion.
King Bors’ Castle
Enter Sommers
Sommers: Oh Lia, you put me into a troubled position again old friend; why must you wander with the hummingbirds instead of lying down with the cockerels? Aha! Speaking of which your suitor comes closer; and you lie nowhere near. He seeks to kiss your cheek and you seek to make him blush. Well, it is time for the fools to be foolish once more it seems. Laugh my Princess, whilst I willow the weep.
[Enter Kent]
Well hello good sir. You bow to His Lordship?
Kent: You are not the King.
Sommers: Not in the same respect as you adhere to.
Kent: I respect do I?
Sommers: If you do not then you and I are very much alike.
Kent: In what way?
Sommers: We both be fools.
Kent: I am not a fool sir. I am the Lord of Kent.
Sommers: You have changed since I last saw you. What is this miracle youth ointment you use? I wish to use your poison to get rid of a few old marks upon my head.
Kent: Quiet man, you are as young as I. And I am the son not the Father. Young Lord of Kent; soon to be the suitor to the Princess if it is fit.
Sommers: You know the Princess? Our similarities get even bigger. Tell me, what do you think of the large wart on her crooked nose? It is somewhat remnant of a witches face do you not think?
Kent: Wart? Thine Princess has a crooked nose? The tale tells that she is one of the fairest maiden’s in the land.
Sommers: That is what the minstrels say. It pleases my Master the King to not think his daughter as something wonderfully repulsive.
Kent: Repulsive?
Sommers: Yes. Not just in looks mind you; she is somewhat of a disobedient scallywag—and over excitable very much so. She has to be locked up to protect her from herself. Though, you must already know this about her seeing as you are to wed.
Kent: Unfortunately we have never had the pleasure of meeting in person. More that my Father and the King arranged it between themselves.
Sommers: It is probably best that way. Who would eagerly marry wench? They would have to get to know her first and no man would risk that. Would they, Little Lord Kent?
Kent: I-I am sure that she is most lovely, just as her Father is most handsome. We shall be most joyous together I am sure.
Sommers: You can never be sure until a spell falls upon you and whispers you to a long, dreaming sleep.
Kent: And by that you profess that I am weak and she is strong.
Sommers: You say those words, not I. Pleasure to meet you Sir Lord of Kent. The King comes closer with Attendant.
[Enter Bors and Attendant 2]
Bors: Ah, young Lord Kent, I trust my fool has made you welcome.
Kent: Most welcome.
Sommers: A happy hippo he turns to be for your arrival my King.
Bors: Well done Sommers. Now skip to it and stand still with Attendant.
Sommers: No words?
Bors: No words if you please.
Sommers: Yes sire.
Bors: The travel here was sufficient I take it sir?
Kent: Most comfortable your majesty.
Bors: The weather held up fine for the journey. A sign from the gods that this was to be some might say. However Kent, as I am not only King in this matter, but also Father, I have a stronger interest in correct decision than the sun and rain could ever bring. I think not only for the Kingdom but for my own daughter’s heart.
Kent: I understand your majesty. I hear it hath been hard to find a husband to take her, what with—
Bors: With what?
Kent: With her—aesthetics.
Bors: There is nothing wrong with my daughter’s aesthetics.
Kent: Her—attitude then perhaps? It has been said.
Bors: My daughter’s attitude is kind and loving. Who should say that she has trouble in these areas?
Kent: It is what I have been told on arrival.
Bors: On arrival? Attendant, did you speak these lies?
Attendant 2: No sir, I did not. Swear to your majesty.
Bors: Sommers?
Sommers: The robin puts his nest in place. Lost to all but young love’s face.
Bors: Sommers! Was it you who utter these lies?
Sommers: Thine minstrel rights make it so. I only but spoke what Lia would have me say sire.
Bors: You spoke cruelly ‘gainst my child.
Sommers: To which he repeated and believed. I am fool sire, I know not much but tales. Reality does not dawn on my mind as dawn comes through the night.
Bors: Young fool! Believe your king Kent, Lia is not what he described. Sommers tell him truth now.
Sommers: Lia is, my Lord of Kent, a breeze from rivers far;
Her placid symmetry sticks her face with red and rosy tar.
Her eyes they stick like silver dimes, a treasure through and through;
Her boldness and chivalry means her love is made; is true.
Bors: That is much better, and more likely to describe. Come we shall to the dining room, dinner waits. Kent, clean up and join us. We wish to speak on friendly terms over food.
Kent: Yes your majesty. Shall be most pleasant.
[Exit Bors and Attendant 2]
Kent: You make me look a right fool.
Sommers: It was the least a fool could do.
Kent: Your second passage made her to be a beauty, not a demon. I shall look forward to making her acquaintance.
Sommers: Tis not the only passage. There is one hidden from the rhymes.
Kent: There is?
Sommers: Lia the brave, it can be said you may have met,
But nobody, but nobody, understands her beauty yet.
She calls and calls out for somebody to hear her crying and her plea;
To understand she isn’t just a Princess with a Princess’ symmetry.
She wanders about throughout the day and throughout all the night,
Stomping through the dirt, twigs and puddles in her sight.
The pleasantness of happiness; her lovely face transforms;
Because with my dear Princess Lia, to lie, well that’s the norm.
[Exit Sommers]
Kent: Strange, bemusing little fellow. King certainly seems to like you Kent, you must keep that up in order to impress ‘pon him further. He and Medi are at peace—but with some persuasion that can be changed.
Oh cruel letter etched by the Palace land. The man, the King, the demon that lies in Medi have attacked my Father but war shall not let you go; I shall not let you be free to hurt a man who hath always loved and cared for me. You will hurt no Albion no more. I shall make sure of it; from the inside of Bors’ castle I shall set the seeds of hatred ‘tween both Kings and then Medi, see who you call fool.
See who you call fool then when your Prince lies dead on the ground with you weeping over his young bleeding corpse. When all will be right with the world and the Kingdom hath its revenge. War is a far nobler thing to get peace—War is made in dreams. In my dreams.
[Exeunt]
The Literary Onion 