A Midsummer Night's Steampunk
Page 29
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisbe,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.”
He held out his metal-side thumb and forefinger in an O at eye level.
“Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?” asked Victoria, applauding.
“It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard,” Wilhelm laughed.
Bottom came creeping toward the wall in an exaggerated tiptoe.
Victoria hushed Wilhelm. “Pyramus draws near the wall! Shh!”
“O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night! alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot!”
Bottom was warming to his role and his audience, and his gestures grew more and more grand, his tone more melodramatic and stentorian.
“And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine!
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne!”
Nick turned from his declamation to find that Shaka’s O was still held aloft, unfortunately at his own eye level, far above Bottom’s. Shaka’s eyes were fixed doggedly on Pauline and Clemmie in the front row, paying no attention to the others on the stage.
Bottom reached up to pull Shaka’s arm down. After three tugs, nearly his entire weight hanging from Shaka’s outstretched arm, he knocked on Shaka’s chest politely. Shaka looked down, cleared his throat, and lowered the ‘chink’ to Bottom’s eye level.
“Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!” Bottom exclaimed, and took a somewhat overstated peek through the chink.
“But what see I? No Thisbe do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!”
Bottom made a great clanging show of beating on the Wall. Slowly, Shaka’s gaze dropped to him, and their eyes locked. Bottom froze. Then, a lopsided smile creased Shaka’s usually stoic features, and he dropped Nick a wink. Bottom exhaled audibly.
“The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again,” noted Victoria.
“No, in truth, Majesty, he should not!” Bottom earnestly informed her. “ ‘Deceiving me’ is Thisbe’s cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see. It will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes.”
From the other side came Flute, clearly distracted by the exaggerated bosoms waving ahead of him. He flounced up to Shaka’s fist, and piped in clear, soft, falsetto tones.
“O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.”
“I see a voice: now will I to the chink,” answered Bottom,
“To spy if I can hear my Thisbe’s face. Thisbe!”
“My love thou art, my love I think!” piped Flute.
“O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!” Bottom pressed his lips to the side of Shaka’s fist. On the other side, Flute did the same.
“I kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all,” Bottom’s Pyramus protested.
“Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway?”
“’Tide life, ’tide death, I come without delay,” answered Flute’s Thisbe, and they scampered off in separate directions.
Shaka crumpled his paper in his giant fist.
“Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.”
And he was gone, to cheers and applause. “Certainly glad that one is on our side,” muttered Prince Edward to his wife.
“Now is the wall down between the two neighbors!” noted the queen.
“This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard!” exclaimed Nicholas.
“Alex!” whispered Pauline. “He’s so rude!”
“Well, my darling, it is silly,” Alex whispered back. “It’s intended to be comedy, yes?”
Pauline fumed.
“Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion,” the Tsar exclaimed.
Starveling and Churchill entered and took center stage. Winston held Snug’s paper in his hand. He glanced at it, lowered it, and addressed Queen Victoria solemnly. “Your Majesty, with my performance I honor two of the bravest men I have ever known. Snug the Joiner and Snout the Carpenter willingly sacrificed themselves on Your Majesty’s errand, and to save the lives of their companions in the face of horrible peril.”
“Bravo, Lieutenant Churchill! Bravo!” said the queen, and held her hand up in benediction. “God bless you, sir, and God bless Snug the Joiner and Snout the Carpenter.”
Churchill cleared his throat, made a great show of examining his paper closely, and began.
“You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Winston Churchill, am
A lion-fell, nor else no lion’s dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, ’twere pity on my life.”
“A very gentle beast, Lieutenant, of a good conscience,” said the queen, smiling. “It is well. Let us listen to the moon.”
“This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;” said Starveling, rolling forward.
“Myself the man in the moon do seem to be.”
Starveling’s hands were trembling, and he fumbled his paper, which went fluttering to the floor, off the edge of the stage, and landed on the queen’s skirt directly in front of her feet. He eyed his wheels and the drop at the front of the stage. At length, he shrugged.
“All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and that dog there, my dog.” Vicky’s Pomeranian barked a greeting.
“Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for all these are in the moon,” said Tsar Nicholas.
“What? In the moon?” asked Wilhelm.
“Old Roman nursery tales about the markings on the moon,” Nicholas informed him.
“At least he’s paying attention, and not making fun,” Pauline whispered.
“But, silence!” he cried. “Here comes Thisbe.”
Flute came on tiptoe, casting about her in the supposed shadows.
“This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?”
“Ninus!” insisted Quince from behind the curtain. “Ninus!”
Winston roared his mighty roar.
“Oh!” exclaimed Thisbe, and fled, carefully dropping her shawl in front of the lion as she ran.
“Well roared, Lion!” applauded Wilhelm.
“Well run, Thisbe!” applauded Victoria.
“Well shone, Moon! Truly, the moon shines with a good grace!” applauded Nicholas.
Winston growled and roared, shook the shawl in his teeth, and bounded away.
“Well moused, Lieutenant Lion!” called the queen.
“And so the lion vanishes,” said Wilhelm.
“Ah,” said Victoria, “I very much doubt we’ve seen the last of that particular lion.” She paused as Bottom strode onto the stage, fully in the throes of tragedian rapture. “Finally!” she exclaimed. “And then came Pyramus.”
He struck his most dramatic of poses, head thrown back, arms wide to Pyramus’s moonlit heavens.
“Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I tha
nk thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight.
But stay, O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What, stain’d with blood!
Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come,
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!”
“This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad,” said Nicholas.
“Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man,” Victoria answered. “I’ve always loved this story.”
“O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?” Bottom continued plaintively.
“Since lion vile hath here deflower’d my dear—”
“Devoured! Devoured!” exclaimed Quince.
“Since lion vile hath here devoured my dear,” Bottom continued, unruffled.
“Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame
That lived, that loved, that liked, that look’d with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop.”
Bottom pulled his wooden sword and dramatically bared his breast. “Thus die I, thus, thus, thus,” he cried, mock-stabbing himself repeatedly and falling to the stage with a crash. But the great thespatorian could not quit the boards without one final tragic monologue, and departed completely from Quince’s script, raising himself on one elbow to address the audience.
“Now am I dead,
Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky:
Tongue, lose thy light;
Moon take thy flight:”
Starveling rolled dolefully away with his lanthorn and thorn bush, leaving Bottom alone on the stage.
“Now die . . . die . . . die . . . die . . . die.”
With great shuddering, gasping, and flopping, Pyramus finally breathed his last.
“How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?” whispered Nicholas.
“She will find him by starlight,” answered the queen. “Here she comes. And if I remember rightly, her passion ends the play.”
Flute’s melodic tones quietly pierced the furthest corners of the room. The spectators sat in expectant silence.
“Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise!
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?”
Pauline glanced over and saw the Tsar wipe a furtive tear. Somehow, despite the enthusiastically flawed presentation, he, along with the rest of the audience, felt themselves pulled into the emotion of the young maid’s discovery of her fallen love.
“Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone:”
The ballroom had gone deathly still. Scarcely a breath was drawn.
“Lovers, make moan:
His eyes were green as leeks.”
Thisbe knelt beside the fallen Pyramus and caressed his face.
“O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word:
Come, trusty sword;
Come, blade, my breast imbrue.”
And she, too, stabbed herself with her lover’s sword. From somewhere back in the ranked family came a muffled cry.
“And, farewell, friends;
Thus Thisbe ends:
Adieu, adieu, adieu.”
Thisbe fell across the chest of her gallant love, finally united with him in death. Again, a long moment of silence, broken only when someone in the audience stifled a sob.
“Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead,” sighed the queen, dabbing at her eyes.
“Aye, and Wall, too,” said Nicholas, blowing his nose.
“No, I assure you!” exclaimed Bottom, sitting up suddenly. “The wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a dance between two of our company?”
“No, no!” exclaimed the queen hurriedly, struggling to her feet. “No epilogue, I pray you! For your play needs no excuse, for when the players are all dead, there needs none to be blamed. It is a fine tragedy, and very notably discharged. So come—let your epilogue alone. For now, let it be enough to know this: that your efforts to serve your queen and country here tonight and over the last several days have not gone unnoticed.
“Those who have denied you the rights of full citizenship in the Empire have sorely wronged you, and have wronged the Empire. You have earned the gratitude of your queen, and she will see that the wrongs done to you and other mechanized citizens are redressed.”
She held out her hand to Bottom, who bowed over it awkwardly, but gratefully. The family, led by Tsar Nicholas, stood and applauded. The mechanized friends bustled out onto the stage to accept the ovation—all save Shaka, who had to be persuaded to reemerge.
As the last of the applause died away and Bottom stole his last bow, the queen turned to her gathered family and held up a benedictory hand. “Now, it is late! Come, children, to bed! ’Tis almost fairy time.” Slowly, surrounded by her family, she approached the stage to congratulate each of the players in turn. Down the line she passed, exchanging gracious words and thanks, until she came at last to Shaka, who sank to his knees and spoke in his low rumble.
“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Shaka shall restore amends.”
The End
ToC
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This Second Edition was truly a labor of love, in every good sense. In the course of writing A Midsummer Night’s Steampunk (AMNS), I fell in love with my own creation. If you have made it as far as this Acknowledgement, you know that the book is equal parts Shakespeare (his plot lines and some characters), real life history (some plot lines and lots of real people), and Steampunk inventions and conventions. Yes, it’s made up of three things I adore.
To my immense gratification, I have had lots of “And then what happened?” inquiries. And “How did he/she get that way” inquiries. Like any novelist worth his salt, I know all those things, but lots of times it just doesn’t fit the narrative flow to write everything you know about every character, situation, and event. But thanks to Xchyler Publishing, I’ve been able to tell a couple of those stories in novelette length: Ganesh, the story of how Ganesh came to be the way he is, and Sindisiwe, which follows Shaka on his search for his family, assisted by Lakshmi and Ganesh. (I’ve included excerpts of both stories after this Acknowledgement, and information on where you can read the full versions. Hope you like them. Let me know. And feel free to post questions and suggestions on my blog.)
Telling those pieces of the ongoing stories of these characters, and planning the stories yet to come, has made me love them all the more. A novel is a novelist’s child. I, like any good parent, want the best for my child. I hope the novel, and the rest of the stories in the AMNS universe, will be around for a while. And I felt they deserved the benefit of the additional years of
So with the heroic sufferance of Xchyler Editor-in-chief Penny Freeman, who also acted as content editor for this edition, and her meti
culous, eagle-eyed editorial assistant, Danielle E. Shipley, herself an accomplished author in her own right, we set about tearing AMNS apart, finding what worked well and what needed tweaking, where the narrative could have been stronger, and where there were details missing that I knew, and really should have told the first time. As a consequence, there’s lots of material here that wasn’t in the first edition. And a few things that dragged the story down have disappeared.
At times we burned up our computer chat windows late into sleepless nights, grabbed a couple of hours of shut-eye, got up, and started again. Lather/rinse/repeat. We pounded out plot points, demanded clarification, debated character development and quirks, and got on each other’s nerves. There aren’t enough superlatives for Penny and Danielle. AMNS Second Edition is a vastly improved work because of them. It has truly been a collaborative effort.
Graphic artist extraordinaire Egle Zioma is responsible for the gorgeous new cover. Isn’t it awesome? I stand in awe of her talent.
As with the first edition, I gratefully acknowledge my first Shakespeare teacher, Tom Stokoe, who gave me my first taste of the Bard, cast me against type, and changed my life. And likewise to Fred Adams, whose championing of Shakespeare entertainment in all its manifestations has enriched me for decades.
And finally to my best friend and eternal companion, Jewels, to whom I owe everything.
ToC
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Scott Tarbet writes enthusiastically in several genres, sings opera, teaches music, loves Steampunk waltzes, slow-smokes thousands of pounds of Texas-style barbeque every summer, and was married in full Elizabethan regalia. An avid skier, hiker, golfer, and tandem kayaker, he makes his home in the mountains of Utah.
OTHER WORKS BY SCOTT E. TARBET
Mr. Tarbet has several short stories published through Xchyler Publishing, including two expansions in the A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S STEAMPUNK universe. These include:
“Tombstone” in Shades and Shadows: A Paranormal Anthology: A stubborn old farmer defies the oilmen, his family, and the odds to save his homestead from the ravages of progress.
“Ganesh” in Terra Mechanica: A Steampunk Anthology: A farm boy abducted by a traveling-show huckster finds his calling as an airship pilot, never suspecting the transformative adventure awaiting him halfway around the world. An A Midsummer Night’s Steampunk expansion.