Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-27044329-20170817134630/@comment-27044329-20170826155812

Scene 4 (A street) - Night 2

Enter Romeo Hathorne, John Hathorne and Deodat Lawson, with five or six other Maskers and Torch-bearers

Romeo: What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?

Or shall we on without apology?

John: Nah man, this guy is inviting everyone to his party, he doesn't care who it is. We don't need to explain why we're here. We'll let them measure us by what they will,

We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Romeo: Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling;

Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Deodat: Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Romeo: Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes

With nimble soles, I have a soul of lead

So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

John: Once we get in game nobody will be able to move voluntarily anyway.

Deodat: Romeo, you are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,

And soar with them above the commoners bound.

Romeo: I am too sore enpierced with his shaft

To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,

I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:

Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

John: Good god please stop trying to make puns Romeo, you're terrible.

Deodat: And, to sink in it, should you burden love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Romeo: Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

Deodat: If love be rough with you, be rough with love;

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

Give me a case to put my visage in:

A visor for a visor! What care I

What curious eye doth quote deformities?

Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Hold on, these are my normal eyebrows.

Actually, wait, it doesn't matter:

Everyone in Salem has ridiculous cartoon brows.

John: Come, knock and enter, and no sooner in,

But every man betake him to his short, stubby, cartoon legs.

Romeo: A torch for me: let wantons light of heart

Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,

For I am proberbed with a grandsire phrase -

I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.

The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

Deodat: Tut, dun's the mouse, the Vigilante's own word:

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire

Or - save your reverence - love, wherein thou stickest

Up to the ears. Come, we burn Day, ho!

Romeo: Nay, that's not so. 'Tis Night 2.

Deodat:                                              I mean, sir, in delay

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.

Take our good meaning, for our judgement sits

Five times in that ere once in our five wits

Romeo: Even an we mean well in going to this mask,

'Tis no wit to go.

Deodat:             Why, may one ask?

Romeo: I dreamed a dream last night.

Deodat:                                         And so did I.

Romeo: Well, what was yours?

Deodat: That dreamers often lie.

Romeo: In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

Deodat: O, then, I see Queen Player hath been with you.

She is the GUIs' midwife, and she comes

In shape no bigger than a small white arrow

On the surface of the screen,

Drawn with a team of little pixels

Over Townies' noses as they lie asleep.

Her chariot is an empty I/O device,

Made by the joiner motherboard or processor,

Time out a'mind the GUIs' coachmakers:

Her wagon-spokes made of long twisted copper wires,

The cover of 7,7,8,8-tetracyanoquinodimethane,

Her traces of the smallest soldered circuit,

Her collars of pseudo-random noise,

Her whip of cracked hard drives, the lash of gold plating,

Her wagoner a small dust mite eating the CD,

Not half so big as a round little worm

Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid.

And in this state she gallops night by night

Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;

O'er Necromancers' fingers, that dream on Vigilantes dying,

O'er Vampire Hunters' arms, who dream of noob Vampires saying names in chat,

O'er Lookouts' eyes, who straight on visiting the same person as the Mafioso dream,

Which oft the angry Player with blisters plauges,

Because they have an RSI from using a keyboard for too long.

Sometime she gallops o'er a Mayor's nose,

And then dreams he of not being killed before he can reveal,

And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail

Tickling a Survivor's nose as 'a lies asleep,

Then dreams he of another bulletproof vest.

Sometime she driveth o'er a Veteran's neck,

And then dreams he of cutting Mafia throats,

Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Italian guns,

Of drinks five-fathom deep; and then anon

Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes.

And thus being thus frightened shoots a visitor or two

And sleeps again. This is that very Mab

That plaits the manes of horses in the night,

And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,

Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:

This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,

That presses them and learns them first to bear,

Making them women of good carriage:

This is she -

Romeo: Peace, peace, Deodat, peace!

Thou talk'st of nothing.

Deodat:                      True, I talk of dreams,

Which are the children of an idle brain,

Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,

Which is as thing of substance as the air,

And more inconstant than the wind, who woos

Even now the frozen bosom of the north,

And, being angered, puffs away from thence,

Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

John: This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Romeo: I fear too early, for my mind misgives

Some consequence yet hanging in the stars

Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels and expire the term

Of a despised life closed in my breast,

By some vile forfeit of untimelt death.

But BMG, that hath the steerage of my course,

Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

John: Strike, drum.

They march about the stage, then stand to one side.