continued later...
THE MAIDENS' HOLIDAY It has often been said that, based on textual and obscure references of old, half of all the plays of the Shakespearean era could have been attributed to one Christopher Marlowe, perhaps both Shakespeare's friend and earliest master in the new dramatic arts. Several of his "lost" plays are known to us only by a few obtuse hints garnered by a quenchless hope of their survival. This academic hunger, though often arid and fruitless, has, in fact paid-off in the memorable past, perhaps most notably with the thrice-recovered "Dido, the Queen of Carthage", one of Marlowe's earliest full works. As for the other long sought texts, the fate of "The Maiden's Holiday", noted April 8th 1654 in the Stationer's Register, had once been assumed to have been to be burned as an impromptu pie plate for Lord Warburton's infamous cook Betsy. Little else was ever said of it, and so was presumed destroyed. However, recently the archaic holdings of Lord Warburton were tracked down. And nearly missed on first inspection were several burned and badly deteriorated sheets of manuscript. While their order was undiscernible, the yellowed pages of a work called "The Maiden's Holiday" was found therein. As much of that drama has been preserved as possible. It seems, if indeed the surviving intermingled pages are indeed part of Marlowe's lost work, that most is sadly unrecoverable. There are those who hypothesize that the play was never truly finished though, for no known record exists of it ever being published. The title itself is also somewhat of a mystery and must either be meant to mislead or perhaps is an insight into Marlowe's curious sense of dark humour. Dramatis Personae Antanon, the King, Chorus, ex Dieum , Kathleen, his wife, Jove, the High Father, John August , lord master, Cronus, father of Jove, Parason, Outermost Guard, Moribund, lords, A thousand warriors, Harris, Throng of men Act 1 Enter CHORUS (dressed as Thanatos ), JOHN. CHO. Now we watch, and how shall we make this man? Of limb, his pendant motion may we wake, Of heart, hard to the woe-giving world And council to evil hope and prudent ambition. The years have been hard upon him. In return He has been hard upon the years of men. [Thunder. His unmade body calls the whims of impetuous Being, for surely wouldst he dare The opium dream of self-made man and Wondrous things woven, and living creates Anew the eternal majesty of Timeless reason and infinite fate. [Thunder. Sweet rapture, his would bind what heart could Ne'er capture. His sword, his life, born by Reason and self-alone desire, that Hell is His passion and Heaven his dark abyss. [John is discovered. It is cold and it is dark but no one Notices such things for a mountain looms Heavy in the distance. A thousand men Ride behind him, but none look in his direction. There'd never been a face he could not turn away. [Exit as trumpets sound. [Curtain rises, many grim WARRIORS rush cross stage. [There is a long silence as John begins to rise in mute ecstasy. JOHN. Blood smears the morning light and hands hold captive One more day; so wonder, so suppose Thy eve'ning's external arms lock--unoppos'd And love only me. Enter PARASON. PAR. Why so, winter's king. The change is made and the task is laid And what man may hold us prison'd now? JOHN. Soothe, though some should have a saying to, so Thou shall poll the peasants of the land and Lay the standard of the kill while we Frolic in the fury of this frozen dawn. Enter HARRIS. HAR. Oh, there I have at him and hale fine Hades. I shall be there straight away I fear! PAR. Yon their council gathers in the dew before This dawn, while quiet the crow is sleeping In the shadow of this titan's ice bound dawn. So, shouldst not we stay? but oh, look and laugh! HAR. Oh, gage and gape, my fine lords, for fear flies The heavens o'er the dome of dying night. Long that light is levell'd at thee--and perhaps me! JOHN. Now! the wild winds blow, and there! halcyon's bill Shows us hardy in hand shall further on. Fearful lord, thy tun has distemper'd, ah... Care thou traffic for? PAR. Mere sip, nothing more. HAR. Hogshead! in place this behooves you, thou shall Labour thy admission by the lodestar guide. What is vengeance but meed in meadows, fly! PAR. Mort Dieu! mercury is mad in bootless blood. JOHN. Soft@ but let lie on, my young lord today. HAR. Out! Orcus gapes and gathers high it's head. Shall I glance back so lightly in longing? continued later...
A seventeenth century collector of books. He is, however, recorded as being rather indifferent as to the contents therein, but satisfied only with their possession. The chorus of gods Apparently his full name is John August Maximillian The first act begins, curtain closed, enshrouded in fog with lights flashing from behind which begins to dissipate before the trumpets sound and John first speaks. Initially, John is crouched as if praying and arises in blind lethargic triumph. The Chorus stands as if judging behind. Illegible stage markings on the side of these CHORUS lines and the slightly ambiguous "we" of the first line seem to suggest that the CHORUS was in fact, at least originally, composed of perhaps three different people. It has been suggested that these figures were representative of Thanatos, Jove and Cronus (or possibly Parason), but no solid proof has been put forward. Thanatos, the Greek god of death, in black attire, who invariable hold his great sheathed sword's handle tightly al all times that he may kill at will. Harris is talking to PARASON about JOHN as though he's deaf, out of contempt. The enormity of the surreal landscape and the situation has them drunk in madness. A comet: these were considered to foretell misfortunes, e.g. the fall or death of kings. "To Hell!"