King Henry IX - The War of the Noses
ACT 2, SCENE 2
The KING, seated behind his desk, struggles to free his fingers from a Chinese finger trap. HUCKLEBERRY enters with some mail.
HUCKLEBERRY
Good morning, my liege.
KING
’Zounds, an ill-mannered assault! Wilt thou never knock?
HUCKLEBERRY
The door was open, your grace, and you oft hast said…
KING
O bother what I am supposéd to have said! I may swear “aye” meaning “nay” or signify “would not” with “would,” it’s nought to me when thou’st mispuzzle me. [Pauses, tugs at trap] Am I to be by Huckleberry hounded e’en in my most privy chamber?
HUCKLEBERRY
But here you keepst your desk, King my good lord…
KING
Cry not, thou! I want it not. What posts there?
HUCKLEBERRY
Your leisure study. [She tosses a glossy “girlie” magazine on the desk] Contractors write for payment.
KING
Burn thee those. [He points with tied hands] What else?
HUCKLEBERRY
Notes from your worshipful base, and one rose-endrenchéd package from the most luxurious Queen. [She sniffs the envelope]
KING
Marry! Nose it not, oratorical hound. I’ll hear the baser words first.
HUCKLEBERRY
From one Ned Noodle. [Reads] “Yeah, but wut about Hilarity? lol”
KING
That’s richly stated! Good base man, this. What signifies this “well oh well?”
HUCKLEBERRY
It’s “L-O-L” my lord, a stuttering nervous laugh. Some say a vaprous mental flatulence.
KING
I like it well. [More struggling with the finger trap] What name again?
HUCKLEBERRY
Ned Noodle, good lord.
KING
Ned Noodle—a good yeoman’s name that! Poetical alternative sounding. Minds me on that scorch-necked flag-waver of lost and trait’rous rebel causes, Bubba Burlapped.
HUCKLEBERRY
Stretch-necked, too, that one. From a tree.
KING
A fine man still. Many a fine man marches with evil intent. My good father… No I durst not prattle. Send Noodle a red beanie.
The KING stands, emerges from behind desk.
My privy council soon arrives, lay by my fawning letters for a time. I’ll hear thee read later whilst I am enthronéd. [With a nod toward the golden stool] Now I’ll hear the loving Queen’s dispatch. But first, Good Huckleberry, reach thou into my drawers and pull…
HUCKLEBERRY
Most forward King!
KING
My desk drawers, lusty maid, and pull forth the royal shears. I’ll no more of this Chinese ’musment. [Holding forth hands] Cut it in twain, cryer.
HUCKLEBERRY
Of course, King.
She retrieves scissors from a desk drawer and cuts the trap. The KING’s hands are parted, but after a brief effort he gives up on removing the two pieces of the trap, which remain on his pointer fingers. At this time, BANNCOCK and GIOVANNI arrive at the open door.
GIOVANNI
Knock, knock!
BANNCOCK
Ooh, who’s there?
GIOVANNI shoots him a withering glance, which the KING, moving to sit, catches.
KING
O humorless Giovanni, I will hear the jest.
BANNCOCK
And I will oblige my lord.
Knock, knock.
KING
[Delighted] Who’s there?
BANNCOCK
Izzy.
KING
Izzy who?
BANNCOCK
Izzy to be, or Izzy not-to-be?
BANNCOCK laughs, the others are unamused.
HUCKLEBERRY
Before imparting your intelligences, a missive from our mostly honoréd Queen.
KING
Not a queen of princely blood or rich dowry, still. Do not o’er-praise her Huckster. I made her. Go on, say forth.
HUCKLEBERRY
Our most benevolent King’s own Queen hast writ:
Reading…
King my legal husband, I do for a time travel hence. Mine own father being old and ill—though it may indeed be mine mother or yet a belovéd aunt, the matter is unclear—I must attend on him. Or her. Therefore to our humble family estate on Bohemia’s famed seacoast must I flee.
Young Antonio, my Italian sculptor, as a most fit companion will accompany me thereby to finish certain lifelike marbled images of your most oath-bonded queen. One statue—this fully clothed—we, or I, leave for your remembrance.
Know sir that your sometimes platonic companion, Mistress Gonereal Stormborn, called on you. Alas, you missed her. She’s a dear! Your being not by, Antonio suggested she touch your barrister Mikhail Cozen.
Be Best,
Melancholia
KING
Ungrateful wife! To the sun-dappled coast of Bohemia and leaves marbled statutory. Blessed be the gods if it doesn’t speak.
GIOVANNI
This touches my intelligence near.
HUCKLEBERRY
Hard news. Too soon my liege, or shall we hear your good councilors’ briefs?
KING
Briefs? Depends.
BANNCOCK
Commando here.
He casts a leering eye to HUCKLEBERRY, who returns a disgusted eyeroll.
KING
Reports!
HUCKLEBERRY
Mayor Rube Giovanni, your spyings?
GIOVANNI
My lord. [Bows] Certain indications speak to a queenly plan to flee this spectre’d isle for parts unknowable. Your sometimes loyal lieutenant Spike Ha’penny may with her henceward fly, though some lay ’spicion to young Roman artist Antonio Bel Corpo, who doth purchase luggage and matchéd beachwear. Our best spies do nightly peep the Queen’s windows to know her more.
KING
Good work glib Rube! A surfeit of words, sure. My huckstering mouthpiece shall transrelate it me anon. Banncock, thou out-thrown he-hen, what hast?
BANNCOCK
Perfidy, my bloat king.
HUCKLEBERRY
Your tongue sir!
BANNCOCK
Hark my tongue, she-hound! This report of the King’s well-rounded sports-fellow Gonereal Stormborn a’meet with Mikhail Cozen is portentous. It marries with intelligences o’ mine that the Miller doth of a sudden harry Cozen sore. Cart loads of evidences of unfathomed import move from Cozen to the Miller’s clutches.
GIOVANNI
Trifles! What of this Gonereal’s infects the King? This Cozen? A brutish, unlearnéd court-jesting stooge! Nought here touches our gravy King.
KING
O, I begin to boil. Where is my whoreson lawman Geoffrey Beauregard in this? Self-excuséd scapegoat! Scatter, thou impotents! Raise the base-born to a righteous frenzy. I’ll see my shystering fix-all Cozen here. And pious Bishop Faultwell to paper-o’er my ungraceful mask. See to it Huckleberry!
Exeunt
