The Other Night, Act IV

The clown meets Mandolin outside her apartment late that night.

Clo: I am here, my lady of the morning.[1]

Mand: Good eventide, shall we go for a walk?

Silence for a long awkward moment…

Clo: For eventide, why not abide?[2]

Mand: Good man, we must have words so let us walk.

Clo: Truly? I fear this walk more than I fear

A sorcerous swine[3], which oft haunts my dreams.

But this walk could take ALL my dreams away,

And leave me without fear or hope to burn

Or animate my soul in some degree,

To bring to mind the fact that I yet live

As living should be done by all beings.[4]

Mand: Are you quite done? The time has come to walk.

Clo: Then let us walk, and speak your peace for peace

Upon us both, but make it swift, indeed,

O make it swift and painful.

Mand: You leap so quickly to your doom, perhaps

This moment is not dark for you, perhaps

What truth I speak will free us both.

Clo: Be that the case, yet still I’m unprepared.

But, yes, let us be walking in the night.

They begin walking for about five minutes before either speaks.

Mand: Let me be frank, o giver of mixed signals. I know not what this game is you play of which we jested upon so long ago, the other night[5], but now I would be quit of it. Answer me thus: what is it that you truly want in this world.

Clo: A question most profound you pose to me,

And one I fear I can’t justly answer

I am a fool, of rioutous living

And wayward ways, having but one purpose:

To be a catalyst for others’ joy.

But as for what I want to have myself,

No clown has ever thus pondered on it.

Mand: Then be no longer a clown, a fool, a jester, or whatever nameless occupation you choose to be entitled with. I know there is more to you, for you are not an ordinary fool.

Clo: Perhaps that is my one desire then,

To be more than the fool of no regard.

But really what I want is ne’er concerned

Compared to what the lady wants, and so,

Fair Mandolin, what do you want?

Mand: I want for these riddles and iambs to end. As charming as it be, there is more in store for you. Can you not straightforwardly tell me your heart? Upon each setting of the scholarly week, you beckon me to enjoy company like I’ve never known before, and with the dawn of the first day[6] I hear not or see not of the clown for another six days. This is madness to a woman. Can you not tell what I want?

Clo: What you want is simple prose to me,

Gawain once asked a quite loathly lady,[7]

And she answered simply: Sovereignty.

To govern all your thoughts and acts without

Interference from any man,

Is not this what you want?

For this you have freedom to act your will

For all the greater part of every week,

And only impose I on rare occasions.

(Aside) Oh no, I fear I sound too much like Snow!

Mand: I will forget that I was likened unto anything loathly. Your intentions are sweet, but too much sweetness is bad for any tooth, as well as for any man or woman. Do not spoil me with your offerings of “sovereignty.”

Clo: Then you would desire more imposition?

Mand: Imposition, no. Perhaps just more time, that very limited currency more valuable to our generation than any other sort of trade. Be it impossible or unnatural to you in any fashion, then let us end this walk and part our ways.

Clo: But to part our ways would be utter misery! Oh, how could you have known my repinings at the very thought! It was enough to fill almost an entire act should all this drama be ever put to form in Shakespearean verse![8]

Mand: Fear not your repinings, o man of wont.

For they are yet the most honest display

By how they are confessed under the moon

When no one else is here to view the game.

Clo: Oh take my repinings then, take whatever confession you must! I will sacrifice myself to be that which you desire!

Mand: If any woman ever desires that of you, make haste and get elsewhere. I will not change who you are, imperfect as you may be. Your change is only brought about yourself, when you sense that balance beginning to falter in any sense.

Clo: Perhaps I was not as solidly founded[9] as I had imagined. Perhaps to complete myself and my balance, there must needs be this hole filled by one who would be ever more vigilant of those wretched hours when I forfeit humanity for madness.

The clown gets on one knee

Clo: Would you be my next and last roommate?

Mandolin rolls her eyes

Mand: O clown, you change too fast for all my tastes.

She grabs his hand and their fingers intertwine

Mand: Why not start here, o man of consequence?[10]

Clo: Yes, let us start.

Curtains fall

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[1] Perhaps a reference to “La dama del alba” signifying just how nervous the clown is on this occasion (the lady of the morning in the said play is actually death incarnate)

[2] Hymn no. 165

[3] As in, a swine infected or practicing sorcery, a phantasm which indeed did haunt my dreams as a youth

[4] In other words, any animated being should live with dreams and emotions

[5] Hey, that’s the name of the play!

[6] Sunday. Mandolin is frustrated with the lack of contact throughout the week outside of the weekendly dates

[7] The reference here is obvious

[8] The clown has broken from his iambs, relieving himself of the role for just the right moment…

[9] Referring to his belief that he was always balanced because balanced objects tend to not tip over

[10] Indicating the hand hold.