Scene: A fleet of small boats on a open sea, carrying a flock of poets, actors, and musicians. They row into the distance, searching for land.
Oh, the horror, the horror! The deadly locked eyes, the motionless limbs, the gray lips, telling me it is the end, no more, horror or else. I felt it too, at moments, though something else; what I felt was the sudden fear of death, what might come afterward, and the loneliness of this solitary journey. I had to escape.
Yes, those lost half-lives of inevitable and unrecoverable tragedy, the guilt, unable to close in, and so moving away from the sorrow. Turning eyes away from the horror, no, get away from them entirely, let none of them escape with us. The tragedy, the grotesque demons.
Yes, let them not chase us toward the end of the vast and endless voyage, and if we die so, let it be quick.
Quick, by the thundering strike of heavenly signs, let us be at peace.
Oh, no more, no more. Leave those thoughts behind, send them to exile as we have been for our refusal of "high tragedy."
So, it shall-(The Fool stands up, squinting to the distance.) Look! Is that a patch of dry land?
Yes, our salvation of isolation, our comedic Garden of Eden!(A roar of cheers from all, though each voice distinct on its own.)
The troop have landed on the unnamed island.
Here we shall be settled.
What a handsome little place!
Then we shall make it our home!
Home, yes, but home of what? A wild circus of cowards?
No, cowards of tragedies but advocate of joy, happiness, and comedy.
Comedy! We are the Comedians!
Very well, so we are.
Yes, laughter and happiness.
We shall not only avoid tears, anguish, and sorrow, we shall make them crimes of criminals, we shall uphold only the Highest Order of Comedy!(In the distance, a ship carrying the mimes arrives.)
Oh, look, so the mutes are here as well.
(To the mimes as they arrive.)
Wipe your black tears off your faces! Leave only the red smiles, we are a tribe of comedy not tragedy. (They do as they have been told.) There, better.
Ah, here comes the musicians. (A band of cheerful flute, drums, and violin players arrived.)
(To the Band)
Yes, very well, you shall never again play any sad little tune and lure me to anger!
Be gentle, Argorn, for only peace shall visit you.
Yes, criminal, anguish, and sorrow, are the horror! They are criminal, criminal!
We promise you only tunes of celebration will be heard on this lovely paradise!
The band plays a cheerful little song while the mimes dances silent to the music. The actors and poets are reading poems of merry endings.
Oh, her tears, like blossom petals, have fallen and are gone forever.
The sun approves of our sanctum! Look, how the minions of clouds take flee!
Yes, presently they do.
Only when morrow comes, shall we be certain of our well-being.
WE WILL BE WELL! FROM DAY TO THE NEXT, THE VILLAINOUS DARKNESS WILL NOT REACH US HERE, I WILL NOT ALLOW IT.
Keep calm, keep calm.
Yes, settle, joy will only come when you are unaware of its flaws and when you take no notice of the hidden misery.
No! Tragedy is horror, tragedy is criminal, it should only be fought, contained and send to exile.
The cheerful tune of the band have slowed with weary into a lingering sad tune, the mime have slowed their dance, and the drawn smiles drips down into a frown.
Argorn nails a notice to a tree. It says, Laws of Comedians.
Stand up, you slothful infidels! You have once again turned what could have been joyous and merry into despair!
NORTHWORTH and Virginia
Argorn, you have burdened and slaved them with works of oppression, they are not happy!
The band and the Mimes
Yes, we beg you. Please let us rest, or the music will only be sadder.
No! Rest and what? Allow tragedy to intrude! No, be alarmed, be on guard. We will battle sorrow to the end.
Argorn, only you are the advocate of pain and tragedy!!! You are fighting yourself!
WHAT DID YOU DARE SAY?
I dare say, you are what drowns us with slaving pain!
(Argorn advance toward The Fool with a hammer, and knocks him dead.)
No, he is dead! Argorn have slain Fool.
Say more, and death or exile awaits you!
NORTHWORTH AND VIRGINIA
(In fear and deviance.)
No, we will send ourselves to exile.
And the music!
(The band and mimes quickens their pace, the music and dance does not sound joyful however, but in a rushed mess, it rings of fear. )
The Band and Mimes are lying on the ground, being worked to death by extreme exhaustion trying to bring joy and music for Argorn.
Play! Your fools! Why have you all stopped!
(Argorn rushes to where the bodies lay, and stops.)
Oh, are you dead already? Someone else, come and take their place! Don't let the little tune expire!
No, I rather be dead to be mocked by your horror! You are a monster!
How dare you cry?
(Argorn kills Katty with the hammer.)
What do you say Benedict, keep the joy alive?
No, you fool, what do you say is the most horrendous of a tragedy?
Death, I fear.
Then, who is most foul of a tragedy?
The tyrant of a villain, champion of bloodshed, and one without conscience.
Then, please, find your conscience, and see around you, the blood, and decaying bodies. What have you done?
NO! NO! I killed them for comedy!
Yet, what you brought is tyranny, bloodshed, and death.
Do you mean I am the villain? Then, please, in the Law of Comedian, execute my execution.
No, I shall only take my exile now, and leave.
Then, I shall bring peace to this inferno once and for all. (Argorn kills himself, and falls. )