Jean Beraud Pont des artsJean Beraud Leaving La Madeleine ParisJean Beraud Le Boulevard St. Denis ParisJean Beraud Le Bal MabileJean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevard
GROUNDLINGS: Yes!
KING: Now if I could just find my horsey . . .
(1st assassin pops up behind rock.)
AUDIENCE: Behind you!
(1st assassin disappears.)
KING: You're trying to play tricks on old Kingy, you naughty . . .
There was a lot of crossing out, and a large blot. Tomjon threw it aside and selected another ball at random.
KING: Is this a duck knife dagger I see behind beside in front of before me, its beak handle pointing at me my hand?
1ST MURDERER: I'faith, it is not so. Oh, no it isn't!
2ND MURDERER: Thou speakest truth, sire. Oh, yes it is!
Judging by the creases in the paper, this one had been thrown at the wall particularly hard. Hwel had once explained to
Tomjon wondered vaguely what divers alarums, which Hwel always included somewhere in the stage directions, actually were. Hwel always refused to say. Perhaps they referred to dangerous depths, or lack of air pressure.
He sidled towards the table and, with great care, pulled the sheaf of paper from under Tomjon his theory about inspirations, and by the look of it a whole shower had fallen last night.Fascinated by this insight into the creative processes, however, Tomjon tried a third discarded attempt: QUEEN: Faith, there is a sound without! Mayhap it is my husband returning! Quick, into the garderobe, and wait not upon the order of your going!MURDERER: Marry, but your maid still has my pantoufles!MAID (opening door): The Archbishop, your majesty.PRIEST (under bed): Bless my soul!(Divers alarums)
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