A Comedy of Errors in Seven Acts | Page 8

commission for those distant Isles
Where mild efficiency can work
no harm.
'Tis strange that Francos in the halls of state
So long hath
squatted, in a chair too big,
But still much gold can smooth a thorny
path
And work discovery of hidden worth.
With modest mental
gifts, but gentle mien
He ill is fitted for promotion here.
But it were
matter of but little weight
With Quezox as a mentor at his side,

What he shall fashion in his pigmy state,
For squirt from wisdom's
fount can quench each flame. But Quezox? Can I trust this sable knight?

He speaketh soft, but lurking in each smile
Methinks I spy a double
meaning there.
'Twere well to bring Dame Caution to the front
And
hold this fellow, as he runs, in leash;
For he, while fat with wisdom,
may of guile
Be deeply feeding, and from stomach weak
May spew
deep discord when we least expect.
I have it! well 'tis known that
Wisdom's bird,
While winging daily flight, hath hovered o'er
Our
foes politic, and hath often shunned
To make her nest in Democratic
boughs.
'Twere well to seek from out the tricky foe
One who shall
balance, like the flying wheel,
The various acts of Francos and his
crew
And so most shrewdly curb the critic tongues
That wag within
the jaws of foes most keen,
Thus hiding well, from all the thoughtless
world. The deep intent which labors in our breast.
And which in time
shall like the bird encased
By brittle shell, break forth and fly aloft,

Singing to startled worlds sweet freedom's song. But woe is me! My
mem'ry playeth false,
For he of ponderous girth, in Island home

Seeketh to grow more fat on public swill.
And he presumeth, justly
too, on what
His silver tongue did work to boost me on.

But still,
lean men are best for action keen,
For too much fatness burdeneth the
mind
And speaks in trumpet tones of strong desire
For pleasures,
and mayhap for cards and wine.
And so 'twere best to know this
Falstaff not
For pow'r politic ne'er can from his hand
Against me
work dire mischief, for his tongue
Is locked securely by our party key.

But I must call the lightning to mine aid,
And order him who now

bemoans his fate,
To scan the bailiwick for pots and pans,
That
Francos no discomfort may incur.
For he so long in Fate's kind lap
hath lain,
That he must ill be fitted to his task
Unless luxurious
easements smooth his way
And jars discomforting wring not his soul.
_Exit Caesar._
_Scene 2. Ship on the Ocean._
_Quezox and Francos walking the deck._
_Quezox:_ Most worthy Francos, so my mind hath cast
A heavy load aside, and eager now, with hope,
I long to meet the foe
in combat fierce
And pierce the varied joints his armor boasts.

_Francos:_ Sweet Quezox, hold! Methinks I read thy mind,
Revenge is sweeter than the honeycomb.
But let it not take mastery
so strong
That Reason totters on her wabbly throne.
I fear me there
are lions in the way,
And we must not in open battle wage;
But let
our minds deep strategy conceive
And thus achieve what otherwise
might fail.
_Quezox:_ Most trenchant Francos, how thy words do
prick;
I fear unjust suspicion rears its head,
For it is not the nature of our
race
To open deal, when stealth can compass well
The object which
our surging souls shall seek;
For practice which necessity hath caused

Hath built a cunning it were hard to meet;
But when, impatient of
long smould'ring wrongs,
We open take the bolo in our hands,
With
bellies yearning for the blood of those
Who long have winked a
proud disdainful eye
Beware! I say, beware! for mercy then is dead.

_Francos:_ But Quezox, hold! Water thy burning thoughts.
'Twere well to bridle firm such wordy steed,
For mayhap there be one
with list'ning ear,
Who wide would publish what were worthy

thoughts; But which should covered be by mantle wise,
Until time
furnisheth the proper hour,
To tongue them into words with cautious
garb
So they shall mellow sound a fiery thought.
_Quezox:_ Thy
mind, sweet Francos, pregnant is, with thought,
And well I ween, thou Caesar's words hast weighed. But patience is a
burden hard to bear
And oft it galls the back on which 'tis placed.

_Francos:_ But Quezox, listen. Speed thy mind beyond
The present passing hour, and wise reflect
That like a blanket on the
jackass spread,
Patience can guard against the chafing wound.

_Quezox:_ Ah, Francos, well I know that wisdom bears
With weight of mountains on my retching soul.
But I will set my
shoulders like the gods,
And bear the load as Atlas doth the skies.

_Francos:_ But, Quezox, I am filled with anxious thoughts
Anent sweet Seldonskip, whose wandering eye
Doth lecherous look
upon each passing dame.
The fire of youth that wanders through his
veins May scandal breed, and it were well to look
With watchful eye
upon his every act
Affairs of state with mighty import soar
Above
the intrigues of a callow youth,
Hence we must owlish vigil constant
keep
And in good sooth, it might indeed be well
To speak him fair,
and warning subtle give
Lest his distemper lead to grievous ill.

_Quezox:_