A Comedy of Errors in Seven Acts | Page 4

gift.
And now they sting me, sting me to the

soul.
Oh that I ne'er had penned such childish
thoughts!
Hence hold thy tongue or honeyed words
proclaim
Which may mean little or perchance mean
much.
And now farewell, and hie thee on thy way:
Again I say a padlock on thy tongue.
_Quezox and Francos moving backward, and making obeisances._
Adieu, most noble Caesar, since the time
When Washington first
donned the regal crown.
We'll smoke the woodchucks out and tan
their hides And parchment make, on which, in words of gold,
Shall
be inscribed, so all the world may read:
"Saturnine pleasure it to us
doth give,
To see them walk the plank from scuttled ship."

_Caesar:_ Ha Ha! but speak it not aloud, until 'tis done. _Both:_ Whist!
whist as mice! We'll oil the guillotine.
_Exeunt both while Caesar washes his hands with
invisible soap._
ACT II
Dramatis Personae
_Francos_ . . . . _Governor General of a Province._
_Quezox_ . . . .
_Resident Delegate of the Province._
_Seldonskip:_ . . _Secretary to
the Governor General._
_Capt of the Ship:_
_Scene: On shipboard_
_(Quezox, slowly walking the deck, soliloquizes.)_
I feel a mighty task doth bear me down.
When distance held the

burden in its hand,
It seemed, that, like a vessel on the stock,

'Twould easy, when the holding blocks were moved, Slip gently down
into the sea of states;
But now that nearness stares me in the face,

Wearing prophetic grin, methinks, I see
Deep obstacles which bar the
slippery ways,
On which the ship must glide to waters deep.
A ship to safely sail in troubled seas,
Must boast a captain skilled in wat'ry
lore.
But he were helpless, if the vessel's crew
Have not the cunning which of years is
born.
Alas, from out the black and threat'ning
sky,
One star alone of all the eyes of Night
Doth faintly pierce the gloom and light
our way
To safe solution of the knotty point.
If but the Captain wear a stately mien
And walketh deck with slow
and kingly tread,
Lieutenants skilled, by filthy lucre bribed,
May
box the compass and so save the ship.
But who shall Captain be? Ah
there's the rub.
There many be who fain would walk the deck,

Though he who bears the burdens of day
Forsooth should then be
decked with laurel crown.
But there be schemers, working in the
dark,
Who ready stand to grasp the hanging fruit
While he who plants and watereth the tree
With itching jaws may ne'er its fruitage
taste.
Caesar hath said that Francos aid will
lend,
To further us in working our designs,
And yet fear whispers to mine anxious mind
Honor hath made his soul its dwelling
place.
Hence "graft," even to aid his upward climb
To higher honors,
findeth not his ear.
As he hath gold, methinks the chink of coin


Charmeth him not; belike 'twould poorer men.
As skilled musician
fingereth the harp,
So must I play upon his prejudice,
Which finds
no virtue in politic foes,
And thus shall