Scene 2: Nottingham Castle Throne Room.
NOAH LECLAIRE: Battement (batt-uh-mon) (Hits YORICK)
CAMERON SAUTEL: Assaut (ass-oh) (Hits YORICK)
SAM HOLT: Corps-a-corps! (corr-uh-corr) [body slam]
ADAM MURPHY: Coupe (coo-pay) [sharp hit with the side of the hand]
MICHAEL BAILEY: Octave! (okk-tahv) (hit down and to the outside, wrist supinated.)
LOGAN RALEY: : Fente! (fent) (an attack made by extending the rear leg and landing on the bent front
leg)
BRONWYN: Stop! He’s going to hurt himself, you know. (YORICK COLLAPSES ON THE STAGE AND KEEP
TRYING TO GET UP—WITHOUT SUCCESS—UNTIL DIRECTED OTHERWISE)
PRINCE: I know, but it amuses Mother to watch him fall. (PUSHES YORICK BACK DOWN.)
BRONWYN: I don’t think she’s amused. I think she’s dead. She hasn’t moved since Thursday.
QUEEN: (With eyes still closed.) I shall dance on your grave, you disease-ridden cow!
PRINCE JOHN: Be nice, Mother. (Waves Guards to return to their posts.)
QUEEN: My life grows more lugubrious by the hour. Tell him to astonish me.
PRINCE JOHN: Come on, Yorick. Mother’s getting bored and my bride-to-be is late. Do something
funny. GET UP, YOU IDIOT!
BRONWYN: (Smacking SAL.) Ouch! That hurts!
SAL: Sorry, miss.
PRINCE JOHN: Come on, Yorick, do something funny or Mother will be very cross with you.
YORICK: Funny?
PRINCE JOHN: Yes, and all those good folks out there—(Indicates the audience.)—are getting bored. .
.and do you know what audiences do when they’re bored? (YORICK shakes his head no.) They
hang the jester. In fact, I see—(Describes an audience member in the front row, something like
“that blonde boy wearing the Indianapolis Colts t-shirt in the front row; if possible, choose a
confident-looking child.)—_____________ has smuggled in a rope for that very purpose. (Calls.)
Stand up blonde-boy-in-the-Indianapolis-Colts-t-shirt. Isn’t that right? Haven’t you indeed
smuggled in a length of rope in hopes of being able to hang a boring jester? (Plays off the answer
of the audience member—if he says “Yes,” JOHN compliments him. If he says “No,” JOHN then
orders a tech crew member to go check under the seat. The tech crew member—with a rope under
his shirt—goes out there and pretends to find it. This should be clumsily done so the whole
audience sees that it’s a set-up. JOHN then ad-libs with the audience member—perhaps even
commanding the tech crew member to hang the audience member—until the QUEEN interrupts.)
QUEEN: Could we please get on with this show? My royal bowels move every night at eight-thirty sharp,
and I don’t intend to miss my regular appointment with my royal chamber pot.
PRINCE: So, Yorick, do something funny this instant!
YORICK: Funny?
PRINCE JOHN: Funny. You know—jokes! You remember jokes.
YORICK: Jokes?
PRINCE JOHN: Get up and tell some jokes or you’ll be hanged, and the Queen will poop all over our
stage.
YORICK: Yes, yes, I have a jest. Oh yes. This one be a genuine loin-slapper. You see, a certain fellow
doth think to peruse one afternoon in a tavern whence he cometh to quaff sack, and in a mood to
have much merry jest, doth leap manfully huggermugger upon a table—(he tries to illustrate with
a manful leap upon the table and falls on his face.)
BRONWYN: He never could do that.
YORICK: Fear not, I’m quite all right. And this same fellow did proceed to open up his patripotestal
clout—and lo and behold—he had secreted into his clout a bird of the duck variety which
protrudes its head from the arrhenotokous pouch in the midst of said jesting fellow’s
pantaloonst—(trying to brace himself against the table, he knocks it over and falls on the ground
again.)
QUEEN: We should have this man put to sleep. (The SHERIFF enters with the CONSTABLE, GIL—NO
OTHER GUARDS.)
SIR GAWAIN: Who goes there?
SHERIFF: The Sheriff of Nottingham—
SIR GARETH: Your business?
SHERIFF: We’re here to see Prince John.
PRINCE JOHN: Don’t bother me—I’m attempting to amuse myself. (PUSHES YORICK BACK DOWN.)
SHERIFF: Sire, I think you might want to know that—
PRINCE JOHN: Come on, Yorick, come on, boy, you can do it, get up, upsy daisy, attaboy, good dog—
(YORICK KEEPS STRUGGLING TO GET UP AND COLLAPSING BACK DOWN.)
YORICK: So the merry fellow hath the head of yon duck protruding from his manly trew and did ordereth
a hearty usquebaugh from a comely serving wench, and a plate for the birdie. And as the merry
fellow quathed the usquebaugh—
SHERIFF: Sire, please.
PRINCE JOHN: All right, all right, but I’m warning you now this had better be good news.
SHERIFF: Well, sire, it’s actually. . .uh. . .RATHER good news. . .partly. That is, the escort for Maid Marian
has got safely through the forest and has arrived at the castle. I led it personally.
PRINCE JOHN: That IS good news. Excellent, Sheriff. Now where’s the wench? When can I see her?
SHERIFF: That, sire, as a small part of the news which is perhaps not quite as good.
PRINCE JOHN: What? Have you brought me bad news?
SHERIFF: Not really BAD news, sire, exactly—
PRINCE JOHN: Doesn’t she want to see me?
SHERIFF: Oh, no, sire. I’m sure she’d LOVE to see you. It’s just that you can’t see here quite yet.
PRINCE JOHN: Yes, I can. I’m the Prince. I run the realm. I rule the roost. I’m the chief gander of the
gaggle, the leader of the pack, the Queen’s representative on earth. I can see her any time I want
to.
SHERIFF: Except when she’s not here.
PRINCE JOHN: Well, of course I can’t see her when she’s not here. I’m not the Holy Ghost. That’s why I
want you to bring her in so I can see her.
SHERIFF: But that’s why you can’t see her, sire.
PRINCE JOHN: What have you brought me—an invisible woman?
SHERIFF: No, sire.
PRINCE JOHN: THEN WHY CAN’T I SEE HER?
SHERIFF: Because she isn’t here.
PRINCE JOHN: I KNOW SHE ISN’T HERE—THAT’S WHY I CAN’T SEE HER.
SHERIFF: Exactly.
YORICK: And then the duck in the jesting fellow’s tresserated trews—(YORICK FINALLY STRUGGLES TO
HIS FEET—AND BEGINS INTO A FIT OF HICCUPS. BLOCKING CONTINUES AS BEFORE.)
PRINCE JOHN: Listen to me, Sheriff—did the escort reach the castle safely or didn’t it? (YORICK hiccups.)
SHERIFF: Yes, sire, it did. (YORICK hiccups.)
PRINCE JOHN: Then why can’t I see Maid Marian? (YORICK hiccups.)
SHERIFF: Because, sire, while the escort did in fact reach the castle safely, Maid Marian did not. (YORICK
hiccups.)
PRINCE JOHN: WHAT DID YOU DO—FORGET HER? (YORICK hiccups.)
SHERIFF: She was captured, sire, by Robin Hood and his men. (YORICK hiccups.)
PRINCE JOHN: ROBIN HOOD? CAPTURED BY ROBIN HOOD? (YORICK staggers around stage desperately
trying to stifle his hiccups. Finally he puts a bag over his head.)
BRONWYN: (To SAL, gesturing toward YORICK). Get him something to drink.
SAL: Yes, sire.
QUEEN: (Eyes still closed.) And I’ll take some wine!
PRINCE JOHN: YOU LET THOSE FILTY OUTLAWS DRAG OFF MY NEW BRIDE-TO-BE WHILE YOU SCUTTLED
SAFELY BACK TO NOTTINGHAM LIKE A PACK OF RABBITS? IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL AN ESCORT?
(YORICK begins to stagger into furniture.)
SHERIFF: We felt someone should report it, sir.
PRINCE JOHN: ALL OF YOU LEFT THAT SWEET, INNOCENT, YOUNG WENCH IN THE HANDS OF A
DEPRAVED BUNCH OF MURDERERS IN THE DARK MIDDLE OF THE DARK FOREST AND THEN YOU
COME BACK AND TELL ME YOU’VE GOT GOOD NEWS? DID YOU HEAR THAT, MOTHER? (THE
QUEEN snores loudly.) WAKE UP, MOTHER!
BRONWYN: Let her be. She’s got to be at least a hundred and seven years old. (YORICK’s hiccups
increase in intensity.)
SHERIFF: Well, it could be worse, sire.
PRINCE JOHN: WORSE? HOW COULD IT BE WORSE?
GIL: She might have been eaten by a bear.
PRINCE JOHN: A BEAR? A BEAR? (He begins strangling the SHERIFF as SAL returns with a pitcher of
water on a tray. SAL is concerned on keeping the tray—which is too big for her—balanced
properly. YORICK blunders into her, spilling the contents everywhere—mostly over SAL. SAL
screams. YORICK begins to choke. He clutches his throat and falls over with a whack, the bag still
on his head. The SHERIFF, now having his head beaten against a table, points to YORICK. ) All
right—what is it? (PRINCE JOHN WANDERS OVER TO YORICK.) Hallo—what is this? (YORICK
GOES INTO A MAJOR SPASM AND THEN DIES.) I do believe old Yorick hath pulled the royal croak!
Bloody hell! Sheriff!
SHERIFF: Yes?
PRINCE JOHN: I want every able-bodied person combing the forest for Maid Marian, and I want it
posted—twenty-thousand gold coins for Robin Hood’s head, dead or alive.
SHERIFF: Yes, sire.
PRINCE JOHN: And order me a new jester.
SHERIFF: Yes, sire.
PRINCE JOHN: And Sherriff—
SHERIFF: Yes, sire?
PRINCE JOHN: If I don’t have Robin Hood’s head on a platter within two days time, I’ll have yours
instead. And get rid of this body.
SHERIFF: Yes, sire. (The SHERIFF drags the body out, only to bump into the back of SAL who has finally
gotten the tray stacked back up with the pitcher and crockery. The dishes go flying again. SAL lets
out an immense wail.)
PRINCE JOHN: Stop that blubbering!
SHERIFF: Yes, sire.
PRINCE JOHN: Not you, idiot! Her! (PRINCE JOHN SLIPS ON THE LIQUID AND FALLS.) (The PRINCE gives
SAL a shove and more crockery goes flying. SAL starts to cry, but a glare from the PRINCE shuts her
up. The QUEEN gives a loud snore. The PRINCE whirls around and kicks her chair.) WAKE UP, YOU
FOUL-SMELLING, LECHEROUS OLD GORGON!
BRONWYN: You’re a very tense person, you know that?
QUEEN: What? Who? What? What is it?
PRINCE JOHN: Tense? Me? Tense? I’ve got nerves of walnut! (SAL, who has collected everything back
on the tray, backs out of the room, so busy looking at the PRINCE that she fails to notice the wall
and bumps into it, scattering the tray’s contents. . .again.) WILL YOU WATCH WHAT YOU’RE
DOING? (SAL bursts into tears.)
BRONWYN: You big bully!
PRINCE JOHN: Idiots! I’m surrounded by idiots! (As he starts to storm out the room, he slips on the
liquid from the tray and goes crashing to the floor.)
QUEEN: Now that’s funny.