{Francis Bacon, England's pre-eminent polymath of the late 16th and the early 17th century (and the probable author of the corpus attributed to William Shakespeare), wrote in his Novum Organum, London, 1620: "For what a man had rather were true he more readily believes. ..."}

Presented here, for the conscientious student who would like to develop further his or her abilities and perspectives in an unorthodox manner, are two fragmentary points of discussion which could be mulled over.

Also included here, to leaven these fragments, are selected scenes from the final trimester of Narkover College's inaugural year as an English-French bilingual establishment. [... Narkover's original mascot was a live canary bird, which acted as a biological indicator of the conditions in the first school-room (a Gothic monstrosity built in 1859). During one rote Scripture lesson, a year later, this feathered beastie keeled over and died. Though, doubtless, from opposite perspectives, both students and staff attributed the canary's demise to a broken spirit, resulting from the monotony of observing pearls being cast before swine (plus ça change?). The school's first Headmaster, an uncommonly close spiritual relative of Wackford Squeers, in a parody or otherwise of the Victorian tradition of taxidermy, had said bird stuffed: but, the archives do not reveal whether the mascot's name, Stuffet, was a daily cri de coeur of Narkoverians before or after its visit to the taxidermist ...]

PLAYLET 6: Doktor und Apotheker

4.00 p.m. Last afternoon of the vacation. A sprinkling of Narkover's staff — including Dr. B. Brummel (Science), Mrs. C. Brummel (French), Mr. E. Gowers (English), Mlle A. Gossâge (French), Mrs. E. Pond (Greek & Latin), Ms. G. Rottie (Humanities), Signore A. Salieri (Italian & Music), Signora V. Salieri (Home Economics), Dr. A. Stuart (Science), Mr. R. Thompson (Math & Physics), and Miss O. Wye (German & Gym) — are in the staff-room, a misbegotten mausoleum commonly referred to as Miss Havisham's Hotel; the Headmaster, Mr. Mervyn B. Pond, enters ...

Mr. POND.
Good afternoon, everybody. Welcome back. I do hope each of you has had an agreeable holiday. ... Shall we make a start on the agenda? ... Item 1: 'A' levels or the International Baccalaureate. ... As you all probably know, Narkover has been faithful to the A level system, for our Year 12 and 13 students, since its inception in the '50s. Nevertheless, at last week's meeting, the Governors passed a resolution which effectively requires us to provide them with a comparison of the respective merits of A levels and the I.B. ...

Mlle GOSSÂGE.
I have to say, Headmaster, this is a most unexpected request from the Governors; would you care to enlighten us on its background?

Mr. POND.
Truth to tell, Agnès, it was something of nothing. ... Thus, as I recall, during a quite general discussion of academic standards, Lady Mucke, obviously echoing a widely-held view, referred to A levels as "the gold standard". ... Whereupon Brigadier-General Truss-Forté, ... who, entre nous, had a distinctly post-prandial glow, ... muttered something to the effect that, "gold came in various carat sizes, with fools' gold at the bottom". And, not surprisingly, perhaps, in the circumstances, a bit of a commotion ensued.

Dr. STUART.
A commotion, Headmaster? ... Is one given to understand that those present rattled their mental jewellery?

Mr. POND.
Oh no! Absolutely not. Perish the thought! Breeding will out, as you know, Alec. ... I do so hope I am not betraying confidences, (His tone is mock conspiratorial.) but I did observe a few of the ladies tinkle their bone china and each gentleman positively refuse a second toasted crumpet. ... Be that as it may, I would like your deliberations before half-term. ... Let me see, ... Arsenio, would you be so kind as to coordinate the responses?

Sig. SALIERI.
With pleasure, Headmaster.

Mr. POND.
Thank you. ... Item 2: The Garden Fountain. Euphémie, dear; this is yours, I believe?

Mrs. POND.
Thank you, Bassett. ... I presume I'm not alone in observing that the water in the garden fountain changes colour; being yellow early in the morning, colourless at mid-day, and then becoming increasingly yellow from late afternoon onwards? (Several staff murmur agreement.) ... Perchance, does anyone have an explanation? ...

Dr. BRUMMEL.
Perhaps a partial one, Mrs. Pond. Those color changes would correspond roughly to the concentration of dissolved carbon dioxide in the water at those times of day.

Mrs. POND.
I had always thought carbon dioxide was colourless?

Dr. BRUMMEL.
Absolutely correct. (He smiles at Mrs. P.) I suspect that some scoundrels may have added acid-base indicators to the water; in principle, at least, this addition should have no effect on the fountain's ecology. (Dr. S. nods.)

Mr. POND.
Thank you, Bob. (He smiles warmly at Dr. B.) ... Moving on, please. Item 3: Cover for Dr. Stuart's Lessons. Alec will be hospitalized for three more weekly periods this term: so Rupert has prepared a revised timetable, (He smiles warmly at Mr. T.) which incorporates both cover for Alec's lessons and invigilation for the public examinations. (He points to said timetable on the staff notice board.) Item 4: Personal Hygiene of Students. ... Matron Nightingale has pointed out to me, in her own inimitable manner, that "if cleanliness is next to godliness, then our students ..." ... ... (About 45 minutes later ...) And last, but not least, an interesting suggestion from Mrs. Brummel, Item 13: The Introduction of Student Proms. Chandeleur, would you introduce the subject, please? (He smiles warmly at Mrs. B.)

Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Thank you, Headmaster. ... Since their introduction about 20 months ago, the proportion of young ladies at Narkover has risen to the level where one can seriously consider mounting an American-style Prom for one or more of the Year groups. Moreover, this would provide a useful vehicle to occupy the students after they have taken their examinations. ...

VESPINA.
Chandeleur, whilst our beau sexe may well be refined in such matters, I would guess that most of our «gentlemen» are the proud possessors of two left feet. (She smiles, waspishly.)

Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Yes, I would guess so, too. Fortunately, however, both Gwen and Olive have agreed to teach the Seniors some basic steps of ballroom dancing. (She gestures graciously to Ms. R. and Miss W., who both nod and smile.) ...

Mr. POND.
Splendid! ... Although Eustace came to the same conclusion, sometime before the rest of us, (He smiles at Mr. G., who is gently snoring.) I think we've finished. Thank you. ...


11.45 p.m. First night of the term. In the Headmaster's bedroom, Mr. Pond and his (pregnant) lady wife are asleep; Newton, their nine-month old son and heir, is in his cot ...

NEWTON POND.
Aimable personne de théâtre, vous vous me souvenez ?... Oui ? J'espère bien que oui !... Par où vais-je commencer ?... J'y penserai... Ah ! Je suis mûr pour mon âge,... comme vous le savez,... mais je suis pas plus avancé. Par exemple, il me semblait qu'un instant, mes parents parlaient du chocolat et de la groseille à maquereau, et l'instant d'après, ma bonne mère eu vomissements du matin. Quoi qu'il en soit, comme vous voyez, elle est enceinte de quatre ou cinq mois ; en fait elle a déjà subi une amniocentèse. Heureusement, le fœtus n'avait pas de défauts génétiques. ... Par contre, moins heureusement, à mon avis, cette analyse a révélé aussi que cette nouveau-née sera une femâle ! C'est ça : une sœur pour votre héros peu réticent. Mais, comme vous savez déjà, la femâle de l'espèce m'empoisonne la vie !... «Pauvre Newton», vous dites: et je suis d'accord ! Néanmoins, je ferai bonne contenance. ... À tantôt !...


2.45 p.m. First day of term. Sig. Sal. takes his first General Studies lesson of the term with the 5th-Remove (Year 11) ...

Sig. SALIERI.
Ciao, tutti!

CLASS.
Ciao, Professore. (In slightly patronizing tones.)

Sig. SALIERI.
Ms. Salice Albero.

SALICE.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Brown.

BROWN.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Ms. Shandy Drynck.

SHANDY.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
East. (No reply; E. is looking out of the window.) East!

EAST.
Present, Sir. (His tone is distracted.)

Sig. SALIERI.
Flashman.

FLASHMAN.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Ms. Malice A. Forthort.

MALICE.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Ms. Alice Lidell-Lonsdale. (No reply; A. is looking out of the window.) Alice!

ALICE.
Yes? ... Oh! Sorry, Sir. Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Alice, like East and several of the others, you appear to be attracted by the scenery outside. Might I enquire for what particular reason?

ALICE.
Sir, rather curiously, your lady wife is going from tree to tree, ... as if she is looking for something? (A. shrugs; Sig. Sal. colors slightly.)

Sig. SALIERI.
Perhaps, ... er, she is looking for suitable herbs to pep up her culinary delights? ... Where was I? ... Ah! McKechnie.

McKECHNIE.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Merridew.

MERRIDEW.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Mumford.

MUMFORD.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Pattullo.

PATTULLO.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Piggy: morto. ... Ms. Chalice Poison.

CHALICE.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Ms. Popsy Rice.

POPSY.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Ms. Lolli Stich.

LOLLI.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Unman. (No reply; U. is looking out of the window.) Unman!

UNMAN.
Oh? Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
This is beyond the pale! Unman, even I don't find my lady wife that attractive, ... so to speak. (He smiles.)

UNMAN.
You and me both. (Sotto voce)

Sig. SALIERI.
I beg your pardon!?

UNMAN.
I meant, it's not your wife, Sir; there is a moggy wandering about outside, who is a doppelgänger of Fleabit. (Admixture of gasps and astonished looks from the other boys; Sig. Sal. moves to the window, and looks through.) ...

Sig. SALIERI.
Mmm? ... Class, there is not a wife or cat in sight: please confirm! (Each student moves to the window, looks through, then returns to his or her seat wearing a puzzled frown.) Thank you! May we now complete this wretched roll-call? ... Wittering!

WITTERING.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Zigo!

ZIGO.
Present, Sir.

Sig. SALIERI.
Bene. (He sighs.) As I informed you before the vacation, my lessons this term have been redesignated as extra periods for revision. ... So, without further ado, and being sure to ignore any fatal attractions outside, I suggest that each of you starts your final programme of revision. (Each student roots out and then starts reading through a suite of Biology free-response questions and model answers.) ...

________________________________________________________________________________________

1. There once was an egg named Humpty Dumpty, who made the fatal error of calling his wife frumpy. So like the venomous black widow spider, in the class Arachnida, she decided to kill her spouse at the earliest opportunity. On espying a wall, which was not too tall, she set up her idol for his great fall. After a grand scene of seduction, came energy transduction, with complete conservation, despite the release of free-energy in the location. To secure his fate, she merely transferred her greater weight, which is so typical of females of any species, and poor old Humpty shattered irreversibly into myriads of pieces. His decrease in enthalpy, and increase in entropy, does appear to be a perfect model of iniquity: but then our Latrodectus mactans did have the name Infamy. DG = DH - TDS

________________________________________________________________________________________

10.30 p.m. Penultimate evening before half-term. In the Headmaster's bedroom, Mr. Pond and his (pregnant) lady wife are asleep; Newton is in his cot in the nursery ...

NEWTON POND.
Aimable personne de théâtre, ... je me posais que l'heure est venue de devenir moins soutenu. On est d'accord ? Oui ! Alors on se tutoie ? Oui. C'est bon !... À première vue, ma nursery peut-être semble typique, avec les jouets habituels pour un garçon ; pas de poupées, bien sûr, mais le gran chien en peluche, l'éléphant d'étoffe, le canard de caoutchouc, le cheval à bascule, etc. Cependant, regarde le mobile qui est suspendu au lit de ton héros, s'il te plâit ; c'est un cadeau de Brown, East, Mumford et Unman de la prèmiere classe. Ce mobile électronique est original, n'est-ce pas ? Au départ, j'ai présumé qu'il était m'apprendre l'alphabet : mais pas du tout ! Comme tu vois, elles sont quatres lettres majuscules, ... soit, A, C, G et T ; et, sur les quatres, trois seulement sont allumées à la fois; par exemple ACC, TAG, TTT, etc. ... M'est avis qu'il est une mauvaise plaisanterie ; quoi qu'il en soit, le mobile me donne mal à la tête !... À tantôt !...


11.15 p.m. In the Salieris' bedroom, Sig. Sal. is asleep but his lady wife is still awake; Sig. Sal. starts to talk in his sleep ...

Sig. SALIERI.
Ti amo ... ... (She waits expectantly.) Ti amo ..., ti amo A ... A ... ... (She looks miffed, then pinches his nose; silence reigns.) ...

VESPINA.
Qui,... ou quoi,... est A ?... Mmm ?... Je sais pas. (She sighs, then closes her eyes.) ...


7.00 p.m. Last evening before half-term. In his study, Dr. S. is listening to Dittersdorf's comic opera Doktor und Apotheker; Chalice and Pattullo arrive outside his door, then P. knocks ...

Dr. STUART.
Veni! (C. and P. enter.)

CHALICE.
Good evening, Sir. ... We wonder ... whether, um, ... ...

PATTULLO.
Yes, Sir. Chalice and I have been wondering ... ...

Dr. STUART.
May I be privileged to enter your wonderland in the not too distant future? (He smiles.)

CHALICE.
Oh, sorry, Sir. Over half-term, would you be so kind as to read through a play that Spats and I have written, please?

PATTULLO.
Yes, Sir. We do appreciate that you have problems with your health, but we would be most grateful.

Dr. STUART.
I would be honoured to read your play; though, to be honest, I doubt whether I will be able to do it much justice.

PATTULLO.
No matter, Sir; even first impressions should be useful. (He passes their manuscript, together with CDs of music by Henry Purcell and by the Strawbs, to Dr. S.; who reads the title of their Ms. ...)

Dr. STUART.
A Porphyric Apocalypse; I presume a play centring round the Greek philosopher Porphyry. How absolutely splendid! (He looks chuffed.)

CHALICE.
No, Sir! (Dr. S. looks crestfallen.) Um, ... Sorry, Sir; but I'm afraid our play alludes — at least, in part — to the disease porphyria.

Dr. STUART.
Oh dear; what a pity. ... Never mind. Porphyria? (He looks pensive.) Albeit somewhat vaguely, I recall that porphyria is the term used to describe a group of inherited disorders which result in the abnormal production of various porphyrin pigments? ... (He looks for affirmation from C. and P., who both nod.) But, otherwise, my knowledge could probably be written on a postage stamp. (He looks slightly shamefaced.)

PATTULLO.
We thought as much, Sir! (C. and P. smile at each other.) So, ... we have prepared a flow diagram for you. (C. hands Dr. S. the diagram shown below.)

Dr. STUART.
This is rather impressive; is it all your own work?

CHALICE.
No, Sir; we have adapted it from a worksheet by Mlle Backson of the Lycée Villiers. (Dr. S. looks puzzled.) ...

PATTULLO.
Er, ... Last half-term, when their Year 11 were over here on their exchange visit, Dr. Brummel allowed them to synthesize two porphyrins. (Dr. S. looks surprised.)

CHALICE.
Yes, Sir. ... Well, Mlle Backson set some extension work for them after half-term; and, ... er, part of this involved the biosynthesis of porphyrins and the genetics of porphyrias.

Dr. STUART.
Mmm? ... These young bucks and does are beginning to make me feel quite redundant. (He smiles whimsically.)

PATTULLO.
I'm afraid that may be closer to the truth than you realize, Sir; Mlle Backson is coming over here to teach Science this next academic year. (Dr. S. looks quite shocked.)

Dr. STUART.
Here; at Narkover!?

CHALICE.
Yes, Sir.

PATTULLO.
Scis quod dicunt: hodie adsit, cras absit! (He smiles.)

Dr. STUART.
Vero? ... Sed, obesa non cantavit! (He smiles; then waves away the pair of them in a good-natured manner.) ...


10.30 a.m. First morning of half-term. Dr. S. attached to a drip, [containing bleomycin, etopside, and cisplatin; i.e., three drugs which are commonly prescribed for testicular cancer], is in bed in a side-ward of Borchester Hospital, listening to Dittersdorf's symphony Verwandlung Actaeons in einen Hirsch; Dr. Krautmann enters ...

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Good morning, Alec! (He picks up the clipboard attached to the foot of the bed.)

Dr. STUART.
Morning, Gustav.

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
I see this is your third session of treatment?

Dr. STUART.
Yes; just the one more after this, ... hopefully.

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Comfortable?

Dr. STUART.
Yes; reasonably so. Er, ... Gustav, would you do me a great favour, and ensure that Matron Nightingale does not pay me a visit, please?

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Alec, shame on you! (He looks shocked.)

Dr. STUART.
I beg your pardon? (He looks surprised.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Well, ... Florence is spending the entire half-term with our goddaughter choosing... (Dr. S. interrupts.)

Dr. STUART.
With Flora; ... my daughter, Flora?

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Yes, of course! I presume you do know that your estranged wife has decided that Flora should transfer to Narkover for Year 12!?

Dr. STUART.
Diana had mooted the possibility: but I didn't know that it was a fait accompli. ... Once a bitch, always ... (His tone is one of extreme bitterness.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Be that as it may, because Diana had a medical conference in Boston and you would be hospitalized, Florence volunteered to take Flora shopping for clothes, books and whatnot. ... I gather they are staying at Narkover, largely so that Flora's guide-dog ... er, ...

Dr. STUART.
Carotene? (Dr. K. nods and smiles.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Yes, so that Carotene can become partially familiar with the geography of that moldering pile. (Dr. S. smiles.) ... Mmm? Having brought you up to speed with your family, it is high time I attended the needs of more deserving patients! Ciao!

Dr. STUART.
Ciao, Gustav. (Dr. K. leaves.) ...


10.30 a.m. Third morning of half-term. Dr. S., still attached to a drip, in bed in a side-ward of Borchester Hospital, starts to read Chalice's & Pattullo's manuscript for a third time ...

........................................................................................

A PORPHYRIC APOCALYPSE
A Play by Chalice Poison and Ralph Pattullo,
of Narkover College, Nr. Borchester, England.

PROLOGUE

A weather-beaten old man [the narrator] is sitting in front of a table, on which are writing materials, and which is positioned on the verandah of a house that faces the Atlantic Ocean; he starts to reminisce. ...

NARRATOR.
Mmm, ... Whether this is true in other families, I could not say: but, in our Salter clan there has always been a special relationship between grandfather and grandson. Thus, when I was but knee-high to his lobster pots, I would sit beside my beloved grandpapa and listen to his tales of yesterday-year; and, similarly, my eldest son, John, would do likewise with his grandfather; and, one presumes it has been ever so since time immemorial, ... or at least since the mid-17th century, when Thomas and Rachel Salter settled in this inhospitable part of the New World to eke out a living from land and sea. ... In the event, their grant of land proved much too small to support their offspring: so Thomas and his family became adept at utilizing the fruits of the sea; and, in doing so, established the trade or profession of most Salters of each succeeding generation. ... Thus, before my retirement, I was a trawler fisherman; and, even John has kept a tenuous link with the sea — albeit as the manager of some haute cuisine seafood restaurant. [His expression is one of disdain; ... which then slowly turns to one of sadness.] John's son, my only grandson, Michael, was a marine biologist; with a love for the sea, which was a passion to behold. ... Some Greek philosopher, ... Menander, if I remember aright, ... wrote "Whom the gods love die young". Whilst this Classics' tag is, like so many of them, probably platitudinous nonsense, I will always believe it to be absolutely appropriate for Michael. [He shakes his head; then sighs.] However, what is not in doubt is that one story, ... apocryphal, perhaps, and certainly adapted and embellished by each grandfather Salter, ... which I told him when he was a mere stripling, proved to have fateful, though unforeseen, consequences. ... [Tears well up in his eyes.] ... ... We see before us only the rolling Atlantic waves, unencumbered and unrestrained by by one of the spits of land which are so ubiquitous on this eastern seaboard. ... But, such an untrammeled view was not always so; and I'm thinking here of Seuhtemipe Spit, which, in the closing years of the 17th century, was joined to the mainland hereabouts by a causeway. ... Whether the earliest settlers viewed Seuhtemipe Spit as their new Salem, I do not know: but, the Salters' oral tradition has it that its local geography was most unusual. Thus, on the windward side was scrubland; on the leeward side was fertile land, sprinkled with Neem trees, Azadirachta indica; and separating these two sides was a river, which started just half-mile south of the town and finished near the tip of the spit. ... No, town is not correct; although it had various dwellings, a prison, a meetinghouse, sundry other buildings, and a cemetary, its size would be more that of a village. [He looks pensive.] ... ... I've always thought that this story should probably have started either in 1683, when Mary Baize died in child-birth, or in 1693, when her sister-in-law, Sarah Baize, died from jaundice: but, my grandfather's version started on the 14th January 1697. ... In early fall, later that same year, the complexion of each Baize girl had deteriorated from its rosebud qualities of late spring, presumably as a result of their skin's extensive exposure to the relentless sun that summer. ... ... No! This will not do; my grandson deserves a more permanent epitaph. ... [He picks up a pen, and starts to write slowly.] ...

In Memoriam, Michael Salter

THE CHARACTERS: Philip Baize [widower; 38] and his daughters, Amelia & Teresa [both 14]; Simon Baize [widower; 37], Philip's younger brother, and his daughters, Grace & Cecilia [both 14]; Asher Baize [single; 36], Philip's youngest brother; Goody Bale [widow; 47], the housekeeper of Philip and Simon Baize; Peter Hogget [42], his wife, Hannah [38], their son, David [15], and their niece, Ellen [13]; Dr. Amon Gerard [48]; Rev. Tobias Allam [36]; Judges Clooth, Hescails, and Staroop [43, 55, & 45]; Mr. Mace [47], a beadle; Mr. Stocks [28], a marshal; and Four Horsemen: Mr. Mandamus, Brother Gregor, Mr. Wallace, and Dr. Arodnap.

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.790 or Strawbs' The Shepherd's Song.]

SCENE 1. Late one afternoon. An unkempt field. The four Baize girls are sitting making corn-dollies; each of the girls' faces and exposed arms and legs are blotchy in appearance; their habiliments are quite disheveled as a result of gathering berries, which have been collected in small, though incompletely filled, baskets. In their right field of view are acres of scrubland, a small flock of sheep, the shepherd Peter Hogget and his son David; in their center is a river; and, to their left are acres of grassland interspersed with copses. David, who has been sidling in the direction of the girls, stops rather awkwardly about twenty meters short of this group when he realizes that Cecilia has observed him.

CECILIA.
Mmm? ... Teri, do you think Davey is a man, yet? [The other three girls look up; they see D. making a poor pretense of not watching them.]

TERESA.
I do not know, Ceci; I have never given it thought before.

GRACE.
Amie has! [A., who makes no attempt to hide her blushes, starts rummaging around in the pocket of her shift.] Amie, what are you doing?

AMELIA.
I will make a Fortune-Teller ... [Then whispers.] for Davey.

GRACE.
What's that?

AMELIA.
'Tis only a message in a poppet. [G. looks puzzled.] Here, Gracie, let me show you. [Using a scrap of paper, stems of corn, and juices of the berries, she scratches some words; then she makes an indentation in a dolly, inserts the scrap of paper; and finally, rebinds this dolly with fresh corn stalks. The other three look on, spellbound.]

CECILIA.
What words did you write?

AMELIA.
'Tis a secret for the poppet ... [Then whispers.] and Davey.

TERESA.
Then it will be a secret for the poppet, only! [Her tone is slightly waspish.] David, he can read but poorly.

AMELIA.
So, it will not matter: if he is a boy, still. [She smiles, in a knowing manner.] ... I will find a place that is away from his peeping eyes. [She stands up; then dances in the direction of a copse of trees.] ...

GRACE.
Ceci? Such poppets do look fair amusement?

CECILIA.
Yes: though Davey is not! [She smiles to herself.]

TERESA.
But David may think we sport with gray forces?

CECILIA.
No! Davey is truly a spiritual son of 'Goodman Dull'. [C. and G., but not T., start laughing at D., who looks bemused and increasingly embarrassed.] ...

TERESA.
Maybe so, but I will color only my poppets with the berries; and we should face the other way.

GRACE.
Teri, your forename should have been Prudence! [All three girls laugh gently as they turn about face; D.'s expression changes to one of both anger and frustration. For the next ten minutes or so, each girl pays attention to modifying their respective corn-dollies; then Amelia returns.]

AMELIA.
Time is drawing on; Goody Bale will have the vapors if we're not back soon. [The other three get to their feet, gather their baskets and corn-dollies; then all four start skipping their way towards the town. In the haste of her departure, Grace inadvertently drops one of her dollies; D. waits until they are out sight, collects this dolly, and tucks it inside his shirt.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.791 or Strawbs' Heavy Disguise.]

SCENE 2. Early evening, that same day. The common room in the house of Philip and Simon Baize: it is spacious, clean, and well furnished; there are inner doors to three other rooms on the ground floor; and a staircase which leads to an upper floor. Goody Bale is busy preparing the table for supper; as the girls enter, breathlessly, her expression changes to one of displeasure.

GOODY BALE.
What be keepin' thee so late!? It be almost twilight.

AMELIA.
Pray, do not scold us, Goody Bale; we've been collecting the berries and flowers, as you did wish. [Goody B. inspects each of their baskets.]

GOODY BALE.
Hmm! There be barely enough here for a cabin boy; much less for the two masters!

GRACE.
Oh! Are Father and Uncle Philip then returning tonight?

GOODY BALE.
Aye, that they should be; if their business on the mainland be successful.

CECILIA.
Er, ... Did not Uncle Asher say their business is sheep?

GOODY BALE.
I would not know; I be not fillin' my top with such affairs: and neither should you! [She looks at their baskets again.] Mmm, ... I fear the masters will be not best pleased with their supper. ...

TERESA.
Er, ... Goody Bale, we have apples in the store; perhaps we should fetch some to add to the berries?

GOODY BALE.
Aye, Teresa, that be fair sense; our pies must be found not wantin'. [She looks about her.] Hmm! I see no flowers: corn-poppets, only! [Each girl looks shamefaced.]

AMELIA.
Oh? [She looks about her.] We must have left them on the way home. [C. and T. look askance at A.]

GRACE.
Oh dear! ... I must have left mine. [She receives discreet looks of anxiety from the other three girls.]

CECILIA.
In the meadow? [G. nods anxiously.] ...

TERESA.
Er, ... Goody Bale, should we return and collect them? [Her tone is noticeably eager.]

GOODY BALE.
Nay; time forbids it. Them flowers must be amissin', with our chores aplenty, still, ... [She looks at each girl.] and your appearance in such disarray. ... Mmm? ... Amelia, the candles; Teresa, apples; Grace, water; and, er, ... Cecilia, you be pressin' clean shifts. [Each girl, having nodded in turn, then goes about their respective chores.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.792 or Strawbs' The Flower and the Young Man.]

SCENE 3. Later, that same evening. The common room in the house of the Hoggets: it is small, spotlessly clean, and sparsely furnished with cupboards, a stove, a table, a few stools and chairs, and David's bed in one corner; there are inner doors to the only other two rooms of the house. Seated around the table, in fading light, the Hoggets have just finished their typically modest supper of soup, bread, and milk.

PETER H.
Lord, ... for what we have just received, may Thou maketh us truly thankful, ... [All three in unison] Amen. ...

DAVID H.
Them Baize... [His father holds up his hand; and frowns at D.] ... Er, ... Pray, I be speakin', sir? [His father nods.] Them Baize girls been actin' most strange this aft'noon.

PETER H.
Aye!? That your top be not on the sheep, be plain as rain! [His tone is mildly reproving.]

DAVID H.
Aye, Father. [His tone is apologetic.] ... They been movin' strange; and Amelia, she been dancin'! [His father looks unimpressed.] And, ... er, ... they been placin' scraps of paper in their corn-poppets. [He looks uncertain.] Pray, I be showin' you? [His father nods. D. rises from the table; fetches, from underneath his bed, the dolly that Grace had dropped; then passes same to his father, who, after a brief inspection, unbinds the corn-stalks round the dolly's waist, removes a scrap of paper: on one of its sides is a scratchy, imperfectly-formed straight line.]

PETER H.
This be nothin'! [He passes the dolly and the scrap of paper to his wife.]

DAVID H.
But, Father, Amie Baize be namin' one a Fortune-Teller. ...

PETER H.
Good woman, what you be thinkin'?

HANNAH H.
The Devil, he be makin' work for idle hands; and empty tops! [Her tone is scornful.] The boy should be more attentive to the Scriptures; and after his chores, he must be continuin' his instruction from thee! ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.793 or Strawbs' Thirty Days.]

SCENE 4. About a month later, the evening of 31st October 1697. The common room of the Hoggets. Seated around the table, in light provided by the fire and two candles, the Hoggets have just finished their supper.

PETER H.
Lord, ... for what we have just received, may Thou maketh us truly thankful, ... [All three in unison] Amen. ...

DAVID H.
Sir, pray, I be speakin'? [His father nods.] In the town, this mornin', I been hearin' Amie and Ceci Baize whisper to each other. [He looks expectantly at his father.]

PETER H.
Hmm! Idle gossip ... to an idle boy! No wonder your good mother been chastisin' me about the neglect of your chores. [He twinkles a smile at his wife.]

DAVID H.
Beggin' thy pardon, Father: but this be no idle chatter.

PETER H.
Improper thoughts, eh? [He smiles; his tone is tolerant.]

DAVID H.
It be possible. ... The Baize girls be visitin' Birnam Wood this night, with... [His father interrupts.]

PETER H.
This night? It be All Saints' Eve! [His tone is shocked.]

DAVID H.
Aye, Father. [His tone becomes uncertain.] Er, ... With their ... Fortune-Tellers.

PETER H.
Hmm! Not them harmless corn-poppets, again! [His tone is exasperated.]

DAVID H.
Nay, Father; not harmless. ... I be tellin' the truth; on The Good Book, that I be.

PETER H.
May The Lord be guidin' your voice! ... We'll be attendin' that matter later: here and now, I be seein' the buckets be all but empty. [His son rises from the table, picks up two water buckets, then exits via the main door. Then he turns to his wife.] Good woman, you be hearin' such rumors in the town?

HANNAH H.
Certainly not! ... You be thinkin' I be idle, too, with time for such tittle?

PETER H.
Nay! Nay; I be knowin' you be a truly dutiful woman. [His tone is conciliatory.] ... Goodwife, would you be preparin' us lanterns for later, pray?

HANNAH H.
Aye. ... For thy fool's errand?

PETER H.
Hmm! David will be the fool, if he be lyin'; I'll be havin' him at the whippin'-post. ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.794 or Strawbs' Witchwood.]

SCENE 5. Later, that same evening. A clearing in Birnam Wood: strewn about a camp-fire are several corn-dollies and an old kettle. Cecilia is lying on the ground, motionless; Teresa is also lying on the ground, moaning softly; Grace is sat on her haunches, holding her abdomen and groaning; Amelia is wandering round aimlessly. Peter and David Hogget come thru the trees; they pause some ten meters from the clearing.

DAVID H.
Father, as I been tellin'. [He whispers.]

PETER H.
Aye, boy, in part; but there be somethin' amiss. [He and D. run to the center of the clearing; none of the girls appear to show any signs of recognition. He checks Cecilia; then addresses D.] You be listenin', clear! [D. looks nervous.] Go to the house, and ask your good mother bring blankets and a basket. ... Then run to the town, raise the watchman, and ask him bring four good men, strong and true. ... David, you be understandin'? [D. nods.] Pray, boy, run as the wind! [As D. runs back thru the trees, he lifts Teresa by the side of Cecilia, and then partially covers both of them with his jacket. ... ... Several minutes later, Hannah comes thru the trees, with her lantern and a basket containing blankets.]

HANNAH H.
Here, I have done as thee bid: but the boy, he be not sayin' the reason. [She starts covering each girl with a blanket; though because Amelia throws off her one, she wraps herself and A. under same.]

PETER H.
I be without reasonin', too; this be as we found 'em. [In a rather distracted manner, he starts to gather the kettle and corn-dollies in the basket.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.795 or Strawbs' Queen of Dreams.]

SCENE 6. About one hour later, that same evening. A ground room of the Baizes: it is furnished with a dressing table, a screen, two chairs, and four beds; each bed is covered with an embroidered quilt. Goody Bale and Hannah Hogget are comforting each Baize girl, each of whom is lying on top of their respective bed, by mopping their foreheads. On the entry of Dr. Gerard and Rev. Allam, these woman stop their ministrations, bob their heads to the two men, then sit down. Dr. G. examines each girl in turn; Cecilia and Teresa each have expressions contorted with pain, but there is only the occasional movement of their limbs; although Amelia and Grace each have similar expressions, each is in the fetal position holding their abdomens. Dr. G. and Rev. A. come to rest beside Amelia, who appears to be the most compos mentis.

AMELIA.
Oh, Doctor. It hurts so!

Dr. GERARD.
Yes, child; but where? [His tone is gentle.]

AMELIA.
Here. [She moves her hands over her abdomen.] And, ... my fingers, ... and my toes, they do tingle so. [Dr. G. looks pensive.] ...

HANNAH H.
Good sir, I must be sayin' there be a kettle in the grass, where we did find 'em.

AMELIA.
Er, ... That were only berries and molasses.

Rev. ALLAM.
Goody Hogget, did you see living things in this kettle?

HANNAH H.
I would not know; though there be a white froth, like cuckoo spit, with the molasses.

AMELIA.
That were only yeast.

Rev. ALLAM.
Yeast, child! Were you calling the Devil this night, with a potion of rum?

AMELIA.
We ... we were making sweet confections, only. [The effort of making this statement results in her collapsing; she lies still, though clearly in pain.]

Rev. ALLAM.
You cannot evade me, child. Did any of you drink from this kettle? [No response. He shakes her; gently at first, then more vigorously until ...]

Dr. GERARD.
Tobias! Pray, leave the child be; I fear she will not make sense this night.

Rev. ALLAM.
But, she may have practiced unnatural deeds in Birnam Wood?

Dr. GERARD.
Good reverend, your concern for the wellbeing of our souls surely has no equal. [He accompanies his conciliatory tone with a gracious bow.] Indeed, that is as it should be. [He smiles respectfully.] But, pray, do you not agree that the wellbeing of these children's bodies should be the concern of a physician; like myself? ...

Rev. ALLAM.
Good doctor, ... Amon, ... I beg your pardon; my manners did forsake me. But we must be vigilant, always, if there are witches abroad on this night; or any. [Dr. G. nods gravely.]

Dr. GERARD.
Tobias, may I suggest you repair to the common room, and ask Mr. Philip for spiced hot ale to rush this cold away? I will follow afore long, once I have spoken to our goodwomen about the comfort of these children thru the night. [Rev. A. bows before exiting.] ... Pray, Goody Hogget, will you prepare a fire? If the drink will not be the death of them, then this cold surely will be! [He smiles encouragingly; she nods.] And you, Goody Bale, will you keep some warm milk prepared? They may not be at peace thru the night. [She nods.] Good! I'll return in the morning. [He exits. ... The two women go about their designated chores. ... ... Thru the night, they minister to the girls. ... ... Next morning, Dr. G. returns.]

Dr. GERARD.
Good morning to you both! [His tone is cheerful.]

GOODY BALE.
Good sir, the poor souls been sufferin' so, thru this past night; and, sir, pray, look! [She removes two brown-stained sheets from a basket.] This one be Cecilia's; and this be Grace's. [Dr. G. examines them; his frown deepening.] ...

Dr. GERARD.
I never did see such afore! ... But, pray, Goody Bale, what of Amelia and Teresa? [She collects each girl's covered chamber-pot from beneath their respective beds. He examines the same.] Perhaps this red-brown color is from gorging the berries? [His tone is none too convincing.]

GOODY BALE.
I would not know, doctor; I be knowin' only they been ailin' since you did leave last night.

Dr. GERARD.
Mmm? [He consults his pocket book, in a deliberate manner.] Yes, ... their symptoms are a confusion of the dyspepsy, of the malaria ague, and their libations. [His more confident tone finds favor with Goody B. and Hannah H., who both look suitably impressed. ... He consults his pocket book again, before writing down a prescription. ...] Goodwomen, both, would you follow this remedy, pray? [He passes to Goody B. his prescription; she immediately looks shamefaced.]

GOODY BALE.
Er, ... Beggin' thy pardon, sir, Hannah and me been readin' only The Good Book since we been baptized; so we been.

Dr. GERARD.
Such piety is surely dutiful and righteous, both. [His warm tone of approval prompts both women to bob their heads.] ... Pray, allow me to read thru, afore you go to the apothecary. "Each day ... Fresh bed-linen and night-shifts; well aired with lavender. Six fresh leeches; one on each arm, and two on each leg. An infusion of raw sugar, chamomile, evening primrose, and ground bark of quinine; one small cup every 2 hours." ... Understand you well, fresh leeches; Mr. Wort is a kindly fellow, but some do say he is a knave with his hands. [He smiles graciously at each women; then exits.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.796 or Strawbs' Keep the Devil Outside.]

SCENE 7. Late one evening, about a month later. The common room of the Hoggets. David is in bed, ostensibly fast asleep. Hannah, seated in one of the chairs by the dying embers of a fire, is sewing in a rather distracted manner; Peter, seated in the other chair, with an open book on his lap, is discreetly observing his wife whilst he is smoking his pipe.

PETER H.
Goodwife Hannah, you be worryin' yourself there? [His tone is gentle and concerned.]

HANNAH H.
It be nothin'. ... I be tired; that be all.

PETER H.
We been sharin' a bed for near twenty year; and I be knowin' when my sweetheart be troublin'. [She looks up at him.] ... Aye; my sweetheart, still! [He gives her a fond look.] ...

HANNAH H.
I fear not say. [Her voice trembles slightly.]

PETER H.
But I did hear the Baize girls been improvin', ... with the nursin' of you and Goody Bale?

HANNAH H.
Aye; in part. They be in less pain now, and they be passin' less blood in their piss. ...

PETER H.
Blood!?

HANNAH H.
Hush, Peter, thou'll be wakin' the boy. [She whispers.] ... The doctor, he been sayin' the color be that of the berries, but I been doubtin'. ...

PETER H.
Should not we be thankful to The Lord for them improvin'?

HANNAH H.
Aye; that be true. ... But they been dreamin' strange, as if there be a ... a presence ... in the Baize house.

PETER H.
Dreams be naught, surely?

HANNAH H.
Aye; that be true, also. But, Grace and Cecilia both been dreamin' of coiled serpents. And, this mornin' I be findin' 'em makin' this quilt; the pattern be of six sides, regular, with a coiled serpent, and he be trapped in the six sides. [P. looks pensive.] ...

PETER H.
Them strange dreams; when they be startin'?

HANNAH H.
About a month back along; ... that night... [She stops as P. rises from his chair, goes to a cupboard, takes out the basket of corn-dollies and kettle which he had collected on All Hallows' Eve, then seats himself down again. He takes out the first dolly to hand, which is colored red-brown to give it the appearance of wearing a dress.]

PETER H.
Mmm. ... It be innocent, surely? [He passes this first dolly to his wife. ... Then he picks up a second dolly, examines it closely; unbinds the corn-stalks round its waist; removes a scrap of paper: and reads it.] ... Heaven save us!

HANNAH H.
Why that be?

PETER H.
Nay! Nay! [His tone is sharp; then it is gentle but firm.] Good woman, it be not delicate; words that be not said even 'twixt man and wife.

HANNAH H.
Aye; that may be. But, we been open since we been wed? [P. nods; then, rather doubtfully ...]

PETER H.
Beggin' your fair senses, ... it be sayin': "D. I want you inside me." [He looks embarrassed; his wife looks shocked.] The 'D' be David? ... Unless!? ... [She rises spontaneously; and places one hand over his mouth.]

HANNAH H.
Nay, Peter. Pray, be not sayin' that ... that ... [Visibly trembling, she seats herself down again. ... Then he picks up a third dolly; unbinds the corn-stalks round its waist; removes a scrap of paper: and, as he reads it, he starts to tremble.]

PETER H.
Lord, our Savior, this be beyond the pale; truly it be. ...

HANNAH H.
Peter, pray, be open with me again. ...

PETER H.
I fear not say, lest the words be tellin' the future. ... It be sayin': "Black twins will be born, on one spring morn."

HANNAH H.
You be thinkin' of Grandfather David's proverb?

PETER H.
Aye; that I be. ... [She rises; places her arms around his shoulders; then kisses him gently on the forehead.]

HANNAH H.
But, ... my true heart, ... he did say also: "Curses be like upright arrows; they be fallin' on the archer's top."

PETER H.
Aye; that he did. ... But I been hearin' in the tavern that Philip and Simon Baize be ownin' sheep before long; and they be woollen merchants, already!

HANNAH H.
So, reason aplenty we be keepin' this basket outside! [She removes her arms from around his shoulders; kisses him again on the forehead; returns the dollies to the basket; then, with purposeful strides, she carries the basket out thru the main door.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.797 or Strawbs' A Glimpse of Heaven.]

SCENE 8. One morning, late the next spring. A secluded stretch of the river. The Baize girls are swimming naked; their under and outer garments are strewn over one bank. David Hogget, out looking for stray sheep, and having heard the sounds of their voices and laughter, is now observing them from behind a tree. In an attempt to obtain a clearer view, his movements audibly result in a few small branches breaking.

AMELIA.
Davey, show your face!

DAVID H.
I ... I ... [His tone and color is one of embarrassment; all the girls start laughing.]

GRACE.
Come; join us! [Echoes of assent from the other girls.]

DAVID H.
Nay; it ... it be not proper.

CECILIA.
'Tis more proper than peeping!

DAVID H.
I be not peepin'! I ... I been lookin' for stray sheep.

CECILIA.
Shame on you, Davey, for that excuse. ... Join us: the water is pure; so it is.

GRACE.
Yes, Davey; even The Good Book has it so, ... with baptism.

DAVID H.
But, each of you be marked; if not signs of the Devil, they be the pox?

TERESA.
No, David; neither. I am truthful; so I am. ...

CECILIA.
We will hide our eyes. [Echoes of assent. David's look of doubt slowly disappears with their repeated encouragement.]

DAVID H.
Aye; ... so be it. [Each girl places her hands over her face. He removes his breeches and shirt; covers his private parts; then, in backward motion, he enters the water rather hesitantly. His entry is greeted with good-natured squeals of laughter; followed by all five adolescents paddling and splashing around happily.] ... ...

GRACE.
Amie, ... Davey is a man; almost fully grown!

AMELIA.
Yes; as one of my poppets did foretell. [D. looks askance at A.]

CECILIA.
Davey, do you know what your growth is for?

DAVID H.
Aye! For when I be wed. [His confident tone elicits looks of surprise from each girl.] ...

TERESA.
But, David, you read poorly?

DAVID H.
Aye; that be so. [From one of light embarrassment, his tone returns to one of confidence.] But I been helpin' my father put the rams to the ewes, back a long time now. [Each girl looks most impressed.]

GRACE.
Do you... [T. interjects.]

TERESA.
Ssh! [All five tread water. Then she whispers.] David, is that not your good mother calling? [D. cups one hand to his ear. Thru the trees, in successively louder tones, can be heard: "David!" "David!" ...]

DAVID H.
Aye! [He makes a bee-line to the bank, with no thought for modesty; scrambles into his breeches and shirt; then runs to prevent, successfully and just in time, his mother observing the Arcadian scene.] ... Ah! There you be, Mother.

HANNAH H.
Lad, I been searchin' hither and thither for thee! Father, he be needin' help with the ewe.

DAVID H.
Ah! She be in labor, then?

HANNAH H.
Aye; that she be. [As she and D. are walking briskly, she keeps glancing at D.'s head; finally ...] Lad, your top be wet! ...

DAVID H.
Oh? ... Aye, in the river, I thought I be seein' ... Nay, no matter, Mother. ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.798 or Strawbs' I'll Carry on Beside You.]

SCENE 9. Slightly later, that same morning. A (partially protected) part of a field next to the Hoggets. As his wife and son arrive, Peter Hogget is ministering to a (still) pregnant ewe and her black lamb.

DAVID H.
Father, she be layin' a fair size lamb, then?

PETER H.
Aye, lad; but the lamb be worth meat, only. [His voice has an air of resignation.]

DAVID H.
Er, ... Father, why that be so?

PETER H.
Her black wool be worthless for dyein'; the merchants, they... [He stops as he sees the ewe starting to give her second birth; ... then cries out angrily.] It be another one! ...

DAVID H.
Like the poppet did foretell! [Both his mother and father look stunned at his revelation.] ... ...

HANNAH H.
Lad, you been ear-wiggin'!? [D. colors slightly.]

DAVID H.
Nay, Mother, nay. [He adopts a look of studied innocence.]

HANNAH H.
You been pokin' round, then?

DAVID H.
Nay, Mother. ... I be tellin' the truth; on The Good Book, that I be. [Both his mother and father look puzzled.] ...

PETER H.
Mmm? Let it be. Lad, your grandfather, he be David also, buried long since in England, ... God rest his soul, ... he did say: "If a black lamb be born into thy flock, then only poor fortune will dog thy smock: but if black twins be born to a ewe, then certain disaster will befall you." [He looks dejected; and, correspondingly, D. looks apprehensive.]

HANNAH H.
Pray, Goodman Hogget, hush! You be worryin' the poor lad.

PETER H.
Aye; beggin' thy pardon, lad. [He smiles warmly; D. flushes with pleasure, and adopts a brave face.] Thru the summer, and beyond, we must be vigilant with 'em sheep. ... Lad, you be sure tar each that be with open sores; we be not spoilin' the sheep for a ha'porth of tar. [D. nods.] ... Good woman, you be ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.799 or Strawbs' Benedictus.]

SCENE 10. Mid-afternoon, on All Saints' Day (i.e., 1st November 1698). A ground room of the Baizes. Each Baize girl, with an expression contorted with pain, and lying in an awkward position, is in her bed; the embroidered quilts on Grace's and Cecilia's beds each have a symmetrical design of separated hexagons, each of which contains a circle (i.e., similar to delocalized benzene rings, albeit coincidentally). Goody Bale, looking tired and flustered, is comforting each girl. Dr. Gerard and Rev. Allam are guided into the room by Asher Baize, who then withdraws.

GOODY BALE.
Sirs, ... sirs! I been at my wits' end; the poor children, they been ailin' so, thru this past night and mornin'.

Dr. GERARD.
Pray, hush, good woman. [His tone is gentle and concerned.] Have you not been helped in their comforting by other good women, such as Goody Mace or Goody Hogget or...? [Goody B. interrupts.]

GOODY BALE.
Nay, sir; Cousin Hannah, she be holdin' there be a presence in this house. [Rev. A. narrows his eyes.]

Rev. ALLAM.
A presence?

GOODY BALE.
Aye, reverend sir; she been not steppin' in this house near a year since. [Rev. A. looks disturbingly pensive.] ...

Rev. ALLAM.
That would be when the girls had the distempers before?

GOODY BALE.
Aye, sir. ... And, sirs, pray, look! [She points to several brown-stained sheets in a basket; then she shows them each girl's chamber pot, whose contents are red-brown.] ...

Dr. GERARD.
Good woman, have they been gorging the berries again? [His tone is one of hope against hope.]

GOODY BALE.
Nay, sir; my masters, they been forbiddin' it this past year since.

Rev. ALLAM.
Hmm! Therefore, good doctor, their waters contain blood; do they not?

Dr. GERARD.
Mmm? Perhaps, good reverend; but I would not commit myself so. [Rev. A.'s expression, which has become increasingly disturbed as his eyes have been scanning the room, changes to ill-concealed anger as he espies and then picks up a near-empty flagon.]

Rev. ALLAM.
But, Goody Bale, I see the children have not been forbidding themselves the demon drink; I smell the odor of cider here.

GOODY BALE.
Aye, sir. I been warnin' 'em; so I been. [At this moment, as Teresa adjusts her position, a corn-dolly rolls from her bed onto the floor. As Rev. A. stoops to pick this one up, he espies several dollies under the beds; and, as he gathers them, he notices that a scrap of paper is peeping thru the binding around one dolly's waist. He removes and then reads same, uttering a cry of anguish as he does so.]

Dr. GERARD.
Pray, Tobias, what has distressed you so?

Rev. ALLAM.
The Good Lord have mercy upon us. These children have been tampering with the Devil's tools. [He falls to his knees, and starts praying; then ...] Pray, excuse me, I must see the magistrate forthwith. [He bows; then leaves.] ...

GOODY BALE.
Good doctor, sir, ... the reverend, he be not accusin' 'em of witchcraft? [Both her voice and body trembles with fear. Dr. G. gently places a hand on her shoulder.]

Dr. GERARD.
Pray, hush, good woman; we must take heart. [His comforting tone then becomes, almost imperceptibly, strained.] Er, ... The good reverend, he has only the natural concern for their souls. [He gives her a less than convincing smile.] Should we not pray for these, too? [She nods; and then they pray. Shortly thereafter ...]

GOODY BALE.
Er, ... Beggin' thy pardon, sir, should we be not givin' 'em the remedy you be givin' back along?

Dr. GERARD.
Mmm. They are not suffering thru the dyspesy or the malaria ague; so I fear, good woman, that the remedy may not relieve their symptoms. [He looks both doubtful and anxious. At this moment, the background noise of the girls' groaning in pain is pierced by sharp cries from both Grace and Cecilia.]

GOODY BALE.
Oh! Them poor mites. [She looks distraught.] Doctor, sir, that be their skin tinglin' so; they been complainin' thru this past night. [She gives Dr. G. an imploring look.]

Dr. GERARD.
Hush, good woman. We will give them cold compresses; pray, would you make an infusion of chamomile, evening primrose, and lavender? [Goody B. bobs her head, and then exits. On her return, they prepare, and then gently apply, compresses; their ministrations have no observable effect on relieving the girls' pain. They continue ministering until they hear voices in the common room next door. ...]

BEADLE.
Good evening to you, Mr. Baize. [His tone is courteous.]

ASHER B.
Good evening, Mr. Mace. Pray, how may I help you?

BEADLE.
I come on business of the magistrate. ... Are your brothers here? [His tone is officious.]

ASHER B.
No; they are in Boston, until the day after the morrow.

BEADLE.
I am given four warrants this day, sir. ... The magistrate, he has charged your four nieces. [Asher B. looks stunned.]

ASHER B.
And, sir, what is the charge!? [His tone is sharp.]

BEADLE.
Sir, the charge is the crime of malfeasancy, ... consorting with the Devil. ...

ASHER B.
Who ... who has accused them? [His voice trembles.]

Rev. ALLAM.
Asher, my good friend, it is I, ... with a heavy heart, but with the guidance of The Good Lord, ... who has accused.

ASHER B.
But, Tobias, ... surely ... [He stutters to a halt when Rev. A. holds up his hand in a stern manner.]

Rev. ALLAM.
Asher, surely I do not have to remind you that, in excising witchcraft from the parish of The Lord, you are either God's ally or the Devil's. [Asher B. has a look of defeat.] ...

BEADLE.
Marshal Stocks!?

MARSHALL.
Aye, sir?

BEADLE.
If you will. [He points the marshal, and his men carrying chains, in the direction of the girls' room.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.800 or Strawbs' Sheep.]

SCENE 11. Mid-morning, one week later. The meetinghouse, as set up for a trial: there is one main outer door; one inner door, which leads to a vestry; and a small outer door (about 1 m high) on the north-facing wall, which is closed throughout the trial. Opposite the main door, at the far end of the building, is a dais; seated behind which are Judge Clooth, Judge Hescails, and Judge Staroop, who are flanked by Beadle Mace and Marshal Stocks. Four hard-backed chairs are positioned about five meters away from the three judges; two face Judge C., the other two face Judge S., and this leaves a gap between them which is opposite Judge H. and which will be occupied temporarily by each witness. The jury and townspeople are in the body of the building, either side of a central aisle; their hubbub is silenced by the beadle banging his mace on the floor twice.

BEADLE.
This Court is now open in session! ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Four children of this parish are accused of malfeasancy; a crime against the law of England and of Massachusetts. ... His Excellency the Governor has advised us that there must be "a vigorous prosecution of proven witches"; but, without doubt, mindful of the events in Essex County, some six years past, he has advised us, further, that this Court must use evidence with "a very critical and exquisite caution". ... All the afflicted have been examined by several physicians and midwives; none of these good persons have been able to provide a fair explanation of these children's afflictions. Dr. Gerard, himself, who has been regarded as an honorable and credible witness in examinations of several suspected malfeasants, in years past, has recorded, in his testimony to the magistrate, that "I have never seen such a condition afore; though it becomes excessive with drink". ... Many of those present here this day, have shown true compassion and understanding by speaking for each child; but none of their depositions is evidence for, or against, those accused. ... Two of these, [He looks briefly at his notes.] Amelia and Teresa Baize, have steadfastedly protested their innocence. The other two, Cecilia and Grace Baize, have been given to making strange speeches which no one can make sense of. [He nods to the marshal, who walks purposefully into the vestry. Then, led by him, each girl — with her wrists chained together, visibly in considerable pain, and wearing a shift soiled with prison grime — shuffles into the courtroom, and sits down rather awkwardly on one of the chairs. Their appearance elicits, from the townspeople, expressions which are an admixture of shock, dismay, and ill-concealed anger. Judge H. then nods to the beadle.] ...

BEADLE.
Amelia Baize; how plead you?

AMELIA.
Not guilty, sir.

BEADLE.
Cecilia Baize; how plead you?

CECILIA.
Not ... not ... guilty, sir.

BEADLE.
Grace Baize; how plead you?

GRACE.
Not ... guilty, ... not guilty, sir.

BEADLE.
Teresa Baize; how plead you? [No response.] How plead you!? [Still no response. ... He looks askance at Judge H.] ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Child, how do you plead? [No response.] Child, do you not recognize the authority of this Court!? [Still no response. He and the other judges look nonplussed.] Hmm! ... Will the father of this stubborn child present himself, and announce his name. [Philip B. does so.]

PHILIP B.
Sir, I am Philip Baize; Teresa's father, and Amelia's also.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Pray, sir, impress upon your child that this Court has the authority of the province, the Governor, and His Majesty the King, himself. ... [There follows a brief, though animated, discussion between Philip B. and daughter Teresa.] ...

PHILIP B.
Sir, begging your pardon, but this child says she recognizes only the authority of The Good Lord, Himself.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Mmm? [He looks pensive.] So be it. Pray, child, will you repeat The Lord's Prayer? ...

TERESA.
Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kinsmen come. ... [A chorus of muted gasps emanate from the townspeople; looks of astonishment from the judges.] ...

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Child, no! ... Thy kingdom come. ...

TERESA.
Yes, sir; 'tis so for The Lord's Prayer: but I was saying my prayer to The Lord.

JUDGE CLOOTH.
But, child, it is without reason!

TERESA.
I beg to differ, sir. ... The Scriptures have it that Jesus and His twelve disciples were the kinsmen of The Lord. [All three judges look perplexed; then start whispering amongst themselves; then ...]

JUDGE STAROOP.
Child, the Devil can cite Scripture for his own purpose! ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Will the godfather of this errant child present himself, and announce his name. [Asher B. does so.]

ASHER B.
Sir, I am Asher Baize; godfather and tutor to Teresa, and to the other three also.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Therefore, sir, you have a covenant with The Good Lord and, also, with their fathers?

ASHER B.
Yes, sir. I am to inure their youth with knowing, serious, and sober religion; and, also, with obedience and modesty.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Do they read The Good Book? [Asher B. looks surprised.]

ASHER B.
Yes, sir; that they do: at least thrice daily, and more on the Sabbath. Further, Amelia and Teresa read together the Book of Martyrs, [Nods of warm approval from each judge] whereas Cecilia and Grace read together Raleigh's History. [Nods of (noticeably less warm) approval from each judge ... Then Judge H. addresses T. again.] ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Child, do you know The Commandments?

TERESA.
Yes, sir; without book.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Do you observe them?

TERESA.
Yes, sir; always.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Let you repeat them, if you will.

TERESA.
Thou shalt not bear false witness. ... Thou shalt remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy. ... Thou shalt honor thy father and ... mother. [She stutters over this latter word; and her constant expression of pain is tinged with sadness.] Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods. ... Thou shalt have no other gods before me. ... Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. ... [Judge S. interjects; he removes, from a basket positioned to his right on the dais, T.'s red-brown colored corn-dolly, and then brandishes same.]

JUDGE STAROOP.
Then, what is this!?

TERESA.
'Tis a colored corn-poppet, only. [She shrugs]

JUDGE STAROOP.
Is it not a graven image of the Devil, himself, colored with blood?

TERESA.
Bah! ... 'Tis only a corn-poppet colored with the juices of berries. [Her dismissive tone prompts an angry flash from Judge S.]

JUDGE STAROOP.
Child, you will do well to remember the authority of this Court! Otherwise, you will be at the whipping-post before the day is thru! [His tone is menacingly cold. He whispers to Judge H., who then proceeds in a conciliatory tone.] ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Child, did you not say that you observed The Commandments, always? [No response.] Mmm? That thou shalt not bear false witness? [No verbal response, but T. looks disdainful.]

AMELIA.
Your Honor, sir, Teresa has been truthful; so she has.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Quiet, child; speak only when you are spoken to. [Then he addresses T. again.] Child, do you want to be spoken for? [No response.] So be it. [He whispers to Judge S., who then proceeds to address Amelia in icy-cold tones.] ...

JUDGE STAROOP.
Do you observe all The Commandments?

AMELIA.
Yes, sir.

JUDGE STAROOP.
Then, what is this!? [He brandishes a second corn-dolly, which has a scrap of paper pinned to its waist. Both C. and G. look frightened, whilst A. looks apprehensive.] ...

AMELIA.
'Tis, as my sister Teresa did say, a corn-poppet, ... only.

JUDGE STAROOP.
But, child, have you not named it a Fortune-Teller?

AMELIA.
Er, ... Yes, sir; 'tis but harmless.

JUDGE STAROOP.
Harmless!? The words, ... in your own hand, ... written in blood... [A. interjects.]

AMELIA.
'Tis not blood; 'tis... [Judge H. interjects.]

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Quiet, child! ... Pray, do continue, sir. ...

JUDGE STAROOP.
The words do read: "D. I want you inside me." [A chorus of gasps emanate from the townspeople, together with shocked looks.] ... Child, confess, now, that you wanted the Devil inside you.

AMELIA.
No, sir; the 'D.' is not for the Devil, [Her apprehensive tone changes to one of embarrassment.] ... 'Tis ... for my sweetheart David, ... David Hogget. [Judge C. intervenes.]

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Are you accusing ... [He stops in mid-sentence. Judge S.'s rummaging around the basket has, inadvertently, resulted in a quilt, embroidered with hexagons which contain circles, to fall from the dais. The sight of this quilt prompts Grace to move from her chair onto her knees, and cry in anguish.]

GRACE.
Sir! ... No! No! ... Sir, I beseech you, ... pray, remove that ... that thing. [She starts weeping copiously.] ...

JUDGE CLOOTH.
But, child, it is naught but a handsome quilt, surely?

GRACE.
No, sir! No, sir! ... It ... It is the bed of the Devil's serpents. [She looks both exhausted and terrified.]

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Child, are you now confessing to a compact with the Devil?

GRACE.
Sir, ... pray, do not torment me. [She points at the quilt; then covers her face. ... Judge H. nods to the beadle, who picks up and then returns same to the basket.] I ... I have these dreams, ... strange dreams, ... my corn-poppets, they do change ... into serpents, coiled ones. [At this moment, Judge S. removes and then brandishes several corn-dollies.]

JUDGE STAROOP.
Like these ones, child?

GRACE.
Yes, sir.

JUDGE STAROOP.
Fortune-Tellers?

GRACE.
Er, ... Yes, sir.

JUDGE STAROOP.
But, these are not harmless, surely? ... This one does read: "Black twins will be born, on one spring morn." [At this moment, C. moves from her chair onto her knees.]

CECILIA.
Sir! Sir. Those ... those are my words.

JUDGE STAROOP.
And, child, your prediction came to pass; one of Mr. Hogget's ewes gave birth to such, this past spring?

CECILIA.
Er, ... Yes, sir.

JUDGE STAROOP.
The words are colored red-brown; are these not the colors of the Devil's blood? [No response.] Child, are not the waters you pass saturated with his blood!? [Still no response; but G. has begun to look distraught and terrified again.] Have you not used the Devil's blood to color the poppets!!? [G. places her hands over her ears; then ...]

GRACE.
Stop! Stop! Stop! ... Stop, sir. I beseech you. ... 'Tis true; I ... I did color my poppets with ... that... [A. interjects.]

AMELIA.
No, Gracie! No! Do not bear false witness! The Good Lord... [Judge H. interjects.]

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Marshal Stocks?

MARSHAL.
Aye, your Honor?

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Remove that disobedient child!

MARSHAL.
Aye, sir. [He escorts a voluble, frustrated, and less than willing A. into the vestry. Upon his return, Judge H. addresses G. in gentle tones.] ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Child, is not your fear and trembling, our Mediator helping you to rid the Devil inside you? ... Is The Lord not urging you to acknowledge your sins, ... so that your own salvation is foreshortened? ... Child, confess now; it is time to cast the Devil to eternal damnation in a fire of brimstone! ...

GRACE.
Sir. [She prostrates herself.] I confess to a compact with the ... Devil. [She spits out this last word.] Pray, ... I beseech you, ... help me seek salvation. [Despite her pain, G. exudes an apparent air of inner contentment. Observing this prompts C. to prostrate herself.] ...

CECILIA.
Sir, ... I too seek salvation ... by confessing my compact. [The judges' expressions are an admixture of ill-disguised relief and self-justification. ... Then Judge C. whispers to the beadle, who nods deferentially.]

BEADLE.
Goody Bale and Goody Hogget, present yourselves! [These two do so; their expressions are anxious.]

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Pray, good women, comfort these two repenting children. [He points towards the vestry. With some difficulty, said women help C. and G. out of the courtroom. ... ... Then Judge H. addresses T. once again.] ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Child, your two cousins have each confessed to practicing unnatural deeds. Should you not acknowledge, now, that you too have broken The Commandments? [No verbal response, but T. looks contemptful.] So be it! [He nods to the marshal, who escorts T. to the vestry. ... Then Judge C. nods to the beadle.] ...

BEADLE.
Dr. Amon Gerard, present yourself! [He does so; his demeanor is one of slight anxiety.] ...

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Good doctor, the accused each show excrescences, pass blood in their waters, and have a body racked with pain. ... Sir, have you seen such an illness before?

Dr. GERARD.
No, sir; though, some older midwives of the town have said they believe that the late mother of each accused did show a similar condition in their youth.

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Good sir, do you hold that their illness is one of the body or the spirit?

Dr. GERARD.
Sir, if their illness is of the body, I know of no natural cause. As to the matter of the spirit, I do seek guidance, always, from those who are more learned.

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Thank you, sir. [Then he nods to the beadle.] ...

BEADLE.
The Reverend Tobias Allam, pray. [Said reverend presents himself; his demeanor is poised.]

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Pray, good reverend, does Scripture provide us with guidance in the matter of the spirit?

Rev. ALLAM.
Yes, sir. The Good Book does state that the Devil, and his demons, can enter earthly souls to incite evil deeds and to cause illness.

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Thank you, good reverend. [Then, after conferring with the other judges, ... he speaks briefly to the beadle.] ...

BEADLE.
This Court is now closed in session! ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Pavan Z.752 or Strawbs' Tears and Pavan.]

SCENE 12. Mid-afternoon, that same day. The meetinghouse, as set up previously: except the four hard-backed chairs are absent. The hubbub is silenced by the beadle banging his mace on the floor twice. Led by the marshal, each girl enters the courtroom via the vestry door, and slowly shuffles forward to a position about five meters in front of the judges; Amelia supports Grace, and Teresa supports Cecilia, throughout.

BEADLE.
This Court is now open in session! ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Amelia Baize, Cecilia Baize, Grace Baize, and Teresa Baize, this Court has determined you are each guilty of the crime of malfeasancy. ... The law of England and of Massachusetts does follow the biblical injunction: "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Therefore this Court condemns each of you to death by hanging. ... Does anyone of you wish to speak?

TERESA.
Yes, sir. [The judges look surprised.] I repent before The Good Lord for the sins I have committed: [The judges' looks of relief then change to those of doubt when ...] as judged by His all-seeing eyes. ... Save when poor Ceci and Gracie bore false witness, in their confessions, [Barely holding back her tears, she looks kindly at both C. and G.; both of whom are barely cognizant of the proceedings.] ... He does know that we have kept, in good and true faith, each one of His Commandments: and, therefore, innocent of the crime of malfeasancy. ... He does know, also, that the Devil, himself, may have been present in this room, throughout our trial: ... because the 'Devil's door' has been closed. [Spontaneously, everyone assembled looks in the direction of the small outer door on the north-facing wall; it is closed. ... Many of the townspeople start praying. Judge H.'s initial expression of horror and doubt changes slowly to one of stoicism; then he nods to the marshal, who escorts the girls to the prison via the vestry. ... Then Judge C. nods to the beadle.] ...

BEADLE.
Goody Bale and Goody Hogget, present yourselves! [These two do so; each looks both humble and apprehensive; touchingly, the pair hold hands before Judge C.] ...

JUDGE CLOOTH.
The good Reverend Allam, and the jury, without exception, have spoken of your piety and charity. Although each of you harbored suspicions of a malefic presence one year past, you chose to wait upon the providence of The Good Lord, to see what time might discover. Your understandable compassions, however, may have allowed the cancerous roots of the Devil to secure themselves. Therefore this Court has adjudged an appropriate penance: "For the execution of those condemned, you will embroider, on clean white shifts, the first letter of their forenames in scarlet." [As the two women bob their heads and withdraw, an angry Simon Baize moves to a position before this judge; then ...]

SIMON BAIZE.
Sir, I would not dishonor this Court. But, respectfully, I do protest: not one of our children has committed the sin of adultery, as the wearing of these garments will suggest.

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Sir, this Court has no desire to injure further your family. But, de facto and de jure, those condemned did have adulterous relationships with the Devil. [After dismissing Simon B., with a peremptory wave, he nods to the beadle.] ...

BEADLE.
Mr. Asher Baize, present yourself! [He does so; his demeanor is dignified before Judge S.] ...

JUDGE STAROOP.
The Reverend Allam, and the jury, without exception, have spoken of your modesty and learning. Yet, because you made a covenant with The Good Lord, and with their fathers, also, this Court considers it duly proper that you should bear the burden for your lack of vigilance. Therefore this Court has adjudged an appropriate penance: "You will be the hangman of those condemned." [As Asher B. falls to his knees and prays, the townspeople register a stunned silence.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Sonata Z.801 or Strawbs' Is it Today, Lord?]

SCENE 13. Early morning, four days later. The prison cell: it is furnished with four wooden planks chained to the walls, some straw on the floor, and a bucket (now partially filled with a red-brown liquid); little natural light is provided by the small window, particularly so this day with the unbroken coverage of dark-gray clouds. Goody Bale and Goody Hogget have just completed the ablutions of, and dressed in their (respective) execution shift, each Baize girl; despite the close attentions of these women, each girl looks both woebegone and in extreme pain. Accompanied by Marshal Stocks, Rev. A. enters the cell; the women bob their heads, cast tearful glances at each girl, and then leave.

Rev. ALLAM.
Children, shall we pray together for the redemption of your souls? [His tone is pious.]

AMELIA.
No!! [She looks at him angrily; Rev. A. looks taken aback; C. and G., who are barely cognizant, look both bemused and frightened; whereas T. looks at him disdainfully.]

Rev. ALLAM.
But, child, you will shortly meet our Maker.

AMELIA.
That is true. But, you ... you! ... you did betray our poor Ceci and Gracie. ... The Good Lord, with His infinite mercy may forgive you: but no, not I. ...

Rev. ALLAM.
Child, your two cousins, they did confess.

AMELIA.
That they did; and, I pray The Good Lord will forgive their sin of bearing false witness. ... They did believe, in their confusion, that their earthly souls would be spared: but you did know that was a false belief. [At this moment, Marshal S. whispers in Rev. A.'s ear, who then nods. A. and T. move to one corner of the cell, and start reciting their personal prayers. Simultaneously, Rev. A. gently places one hand on C.'s shoulder and another on G.'s shoulder; then he recites a short prayer before nodding to the marshal.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Ground Z.731 or Strawbs' The Hangman and the Papist.]

SCENE 14. Immediately thereafter, that same day. The town square, dominated by the recently constructed gallows. Each of the assembled townspeople is both well wrapped-up and shuffling their feet against the biting cold. The low drone of their voices is silenced by the appearance of Rev. A., the four Baize girls, and Marshal Stocks outside the prison. In single file, Rev. A. leads the group to the gallows; Amelia, with difficulty, helps Grace both to traverse the square and to ascend the steps of the gallows; and, similarly, Teresa helps Cecilia. With the assistance of the marshal, a (hooded) Asher Baize places a halter around each girl's neck. Rev. A. recites The Lord's Prayer, then ...

Rev. ALLAM.
Lord, have mercy on their souls. [He looks at Judge H., who then nods to Asher B.] ...

ASHER B.
Forgive me Lord, we hang them in Thy name. [Sotto voce] ... Forgive me Lord, we hang them in Thy name! [Louder] ... ... Forgive me Lord, we hang them in Thy name! [Shouting ... He pulls the lever, falling to his knees and sobbing as he does so; the four trap doors open; the bodies of the girls drop, twitch, and then they are still. ... ... As the assembled are just about to turn away, the halter round Cecilia's neck breaks, and her body falls. ... Those assembled have, etched in their minds, the final image of three lifeless bodies, in white shifts embroidered with scarlet letters; these read, from right to left, T A G.] ... ...

[Music: Purcell's Chaconne Z.730 or Strawbs' New World.]

SCENE 15. Shortly thereafter, that same day. The meetinghouse, as set up in the trial: except the pulpit is in a prominent position. The three judges, heads bowed, are standing behind the dais; the townspeople, heads bowed also, are standing either side of the central aisle; and, Rev. A. is in the pulpit prepared for prayer. [The gray-black clouds and continuous rain, outside, are accompanied by the noise of the wind; this increases in intensity, slowly but surely, throughout.]

Rev. ALLAM.
O Lord, whose steadfast love doth never waver, whose divine mercies do never cease, we seek both Thy forgiveness and Thy guidance. Thou dost know that... [He stops as a bedraggled looking Ellen Hogget comes bursting thru the main door.] ...

ELLEN H.
Sir! Reverend, sir! There... [Rev. A. interjects.]

Rev. ALLAM.
Silence, Ellen Hoggett! This is a house of God.

ELLEN H.
But, reverend! There be four horsemen; all strangers. They be by the gallows.

HANNAH H.
The Lord have mercy on us. They be The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse! [She falls to her knees.]

Rev. ALLAM.
Hold thy tongue, woman! [Then he addresses Ellen in a firm but soft tone.] Describe them for us, child.

ELLEN H.
The first one be dressin' as a gentleman; ... he be ridin' a white horse. Er, ... The second, he be dressin' in a brown habit; with a red horse; ... and he be puttin' a white robe on each of 'em; and... [Goody B. interjects.]

GOODY BALE.
Goody Hogget, she be right! ... That be predicted in the Scriptures. The Lamb, He hath opened the fifth seal. [She and most of the women are now quite distraught; whereas the men now look deeply apprehensive.]

Rev. ALLAM.
Pray, good woman, let us not be immoderate. [His tone is now conciliatory.] Child, do continue. ...

ELLEN H.
The third, he be dressin' in strange cloth; ... his horse be black. ... And the last, he be dressin' in a white coat: but his horse be pale. [At this moment, the four horsemen come riding thru the main door and down the central aisle; then dismount, and their horses move to the sides. Mr. Mandamus, the horseman dressed as a gentleman, bows graciously, first to the Rev. Allam, and then to the three judges.] ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Pray, sirs, what business have you here!? [Mr. M. hands each judge an official-looking document: these read same; confer with each other; ... and then look expectantly at Mr. M., who addresses Judge H. ...]

Mr. MANDAMUS.
Pray, sir, would you read aloud the document?

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Yes, sir. ... "To whom it may concern. ... Divers members of the Council of His Excellency the Governor, having examined, with exquisite caution, the evidence submitted in the trial of those accused of malfeasancy on Seuhtemipe Spit, do aver that this evidence is not sufficient to determine either the innocence or the guilt of those suspected of witchcraft. ... Governor Stoughton, having been advised of his Council's most careful judgment, has, himself, recommended that a new Court should be established to hear and determine these cases. ... This Court, which will consist of Mr. Mandamus, Mr. Wallace and Dr Arodnap, with Brother Gregor as independent advisor, has the complete authority of the Council of Massachusetts, His Excellency the Governor, and His Majesty the King." ... [All those assembled look ashen-faced, with the majority of the townspeople weeping copiously. ... Shortly thereafter, Mr. M. addresses Judge H. again. ...]

Mr. MANDAMUS.
Sir, only The Good Lord, Himself, will know why He sent such abominable weather to delay our journey: but, your gallows are vivid witnesses to our failure to prevent a miscarriage of justice. ... Now, though, my fellow travelers and I hope our modest learning might begin to lead this parish out of its present darkness. ... [Then he bows to Brother Gregor, the horseman in the brown habit.] ...

JUDGE STAROOP.
Brother Gregor, you are papist, are you not?

Br. GREGOR.
Sir, I do admit to being a humble servant of His Holiness: but I am not one of His emissaries here in the New World.

JUDGE STAROOP.
Then, sir, why have you traveled so far?

Br. GREGOR.
Sir, I have journeyed so that I may collect new plants for investigation in our monastery garden.

JUDGE CLOOTH.
You are, then, an amateur of botany, sir?

Br. GREGOR.
Yes, sir; though one of slight achievement.

JUDGE CLOOTH.
And, sir, what might be done with these new plants?

Br. GREGOR.
In our garden, we have determined that characters do follow thru the generations, in often precise ratios; and, we would hope the new plants might provide further evidence.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Sir, are these characters natural or unnatural?

Br. GREGOR.
Whilst some characters have the appearance of affliction, we do presume, ... though we may err, ... that all characters are provident. [Then he bows to Mr. Wallace, the horseman in the strange cloth.] Mr. Wallace, pray? ...

Mr. WALLACE.
Sirs, I too am an amateur of botany; and, in my travels to near and distant lands, I have observed divers characters of many living things.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
And, sir, would you agree that all characters are provident?

Mr. WALLACE.
Yes, sir: but only in part; that is, providence in the sense of the benevolent care of The Good Lord: although Nature is often without charity.

JUDGE STAROOP.
Therefore, sir, you would aver that the Devil, himself, has no effect on these characters?

Mr. WALLACE.
Sir, undoubtedly! Though some, either in their confusion or ignorance, do imagine so. [Then he bows to Dr. Arodnap, the horseman in the white coat.] Dr. Arodnap, pray? ... [From a box he removes a strip of paper (constructed in the manner of a paper-chain, and which is a sequence of the letters A, C, G, and T in apparently random order), passes this strip to the judges, who examine same with deep frowns, until ...]

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Is it a cypher, sir?

Dr. ARODNAP.
Indeed it is, sir. But whilst every learned physician knows the cypher, not all are agreed that the answer is forty-two.

JUDGE STAROOP.
Forty-two! Sir, such an answer is without wit, surely?

Dr. ARODNAP.
Forgive me, sir, because I have a humble and modest mind, I am not able to provide you with the reasoning: but wit there is, in abundance. ...

JUDGE HESCAILS.
Sir, I would not presume to understand you; notwithstanding, I would suggest there is, perhaps, only an obscure affinity between the cypher and unnatural practices in this parish of The Good Lord?

Dr. ARODNAP.
That, sir, may indeed be so. However, some six years past, I do recall that eight, eminent, Boston divines did declare: "The Devil may sometimes have a permission to represent an innocent person as tormenting such as are under diabolical molestations. But ... such things are rare ...". Thus, the afflictions of the recently deceased may have had natural causes; and, if this be true, some would suggest that this cypher be used to comfort or to excise such afflictions. ...

JUDGE CLOOTH.
Sir, is the box now empty? [Dr A. shows him the empty box.]

Dr. ARODNAP.
Perhaps, sir; though some do say it contains hope. [Then he bows to Mr. M.] Mr. Mandamus, pray? [Who addresses Judge H.]

Mr. MANDANUS.
Sir, because I have not examined the records of your Court, thus far, it would not be proper for me to deliver judgment. Notwithstanding, members of the Council were disconcerted by divers matters, but most particularly your inconstant method of proceeding with one of The Commandments.

JUDGE HESCAILS.
And, sir, which one would that be, pray?

Mr. MANDANUS.
Thou shalt not bear false witness. ... Throughout the trial, you did presume that each of the accused bore false witness: except when, in their pain and their confusion, two of them did confess. [Then he addresses Rev. Allam in the pulpit.] Reverend sir, with your profound knowledge of The Good Book, you will doubtless recall the relevant passage of Scripture? [Rev. A. looks pensive, ... then utters a cry of anguish.]

Rev. ALLAM.
O Lord, forgive me! ... I did forget Thy voice in the Book of Zechariah. [He looks humbled.]

Mr. MANDANUS.
Pray, reverend, do read this text for us. ...

Rev. ALLAM.
Brethren, gathered here on this forsaken day, and in sorest need of spiritual refreshment, I read for us all, the Book of Zechariah; chapter 7, verses 8 thru 13. [He does so, in measured tones; the italicized words are his emphasis.] "And the word came unto Zechariah, saying, Thus speaketh the Lord of hosts, saying, Execute true judgment, and shew mercy and compassions every man to his brother. And oppress not the widow, nor the fatherless, the stranger, nor the poor; and let none of you imagine evil against his brother in your heart. But they refused to hearken, and pulled away the shoulder, and stopped their ears, that they should not hear. Yea, they made their hearts as adamant as stone, lest they should hear the law, and the words which the Lord of hosts hath sent in His spirit by the former prophets: therefore came a great wrath from the Lord of hosts. Therefore it came to pass, that as He cried, and they would not hear; so they cried, and I would not hear, said the Lord of hosts. But I scattered them with a whirlwind among all the nations whom they knew not. [With the wind, outside, reaching near-deafening proportions, Rev. A. is forced to shout these last words.] ... Thus the land was desolate after them, that no man passed through nor returned: for they laid the pleasant land desolate." [After Rev. A. has spoken these last words, Mr. M. nods to his fellow travelers, and then all prepare to mount their respective horses. At this moment, the ceiling, doors, and walls cave in: crushed irreversibly by the waters of an Atlantic, mid-winter storm.] ... ... ... ...

EPILOGUE

The narrator stops writing, lifts his pen, then continues to reminisce in a sad and increasingly frail voice. ...

NARRATOR.
Michael's passion for enquiry and adventure was in evidence from the earliest age; I say was, because we buried him some five years past. ... Doubtless, my grandson inherited such passions from his good mother: surely not from my son, John, who has always been so cautious in his ways. ... On t'other hand, had Michael taken but one leaf from his father's book, perhaps he would not even have started his odyssey for the truth behind the story of Seuhtemipe Spit: much less search for its exact geographical location. ... In his professional life, as a marine biologist, ... as I may have said before, ... he invariably had extensive backup on his diving quests: so it was all the more surprising that he threw caution to the four winds for his scuba-diving expeditions hereabouts for the Spit. [Tears well up in his eyes.] ... Certainly, his last, fateful, expedition always brings to my mind those words included by Dave Cousins, the distinguished lyricist-composer, in his elegiac song Golden Salamander: "The bird had silver wings, my friend, and reached out for the sky; it found its wings were broken: it had lost the right to fly."; ... as well as these: "He opened up his heart and prayed for peace for all mankind. He asked a fortune teller, but found out she was blind". ... Be that as it may, the portents were favorable that day which was to be etched into my being. ... [His pen falls slowly from his hand; his eyes close: then he collapses over his manuscript ...]

........................................................................................

10.30 a.m. Fifth morning of half-term. Dr. S., still attached to a drip, in bed in a side-ward of Borchester Hospital, is listening to Dittersdorf's string quartet No.1; Dr. K. enters ...

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Good morning, Alec! (He picks up the clipboard attached to the foot of the bed.)

Dr. STUART.
Morning, Gustav.

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
I see this is your last day?

Dr. STUART.
Yes; Nurse Stössel has promised «to switch me off» before lunch. (They both smile.) Er, ... Gustav, do you know much about the porphyrias?

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Mmm, ... No more, or less, I suppose, than the average leech in general practice. Why do you ask?

Dr. STUART.
Well, two of my students, Chalice Poison and Ralph Pattullo, ... You remember them? (Dr. K. nods.) ... have written a play which incorporates porphyria. ... ...

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Alec, I'm not agog, yet! (His tone is slightly impatient.)

Dr. STUART.
Ah, yes! ... In one passage they present a late-17th century doctor's prescription to alleviate symptoms which might be vaguely attributable to a mixture of severe indigestion and malaria: but which appears to partially ameliorate symptoms which are, I presume, consistent with porphyrias.

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
May I read the relevant passage, please? (Dr. S. finds and then passes same to Dr. K.; who starts reading aloud.) ... "Each day ... Fresh bed-linen and night-shifts; well aired with lavender. Six fresh leeches; one on each arm, and two on each leg. An infusion of raw sugar, chamomile, evening primrose, and ground bark of quinine; one small cup every 2 hours." ... Mmm! (He looks pensive.) Certainly, aspects of his prescription correspond to modern treatment of porphyria cutanea tarda, otherwise known as hepatic porphyria. Thus, after an acute attack — induced by ethanol, for example — a patient may be prescribed a high carbohydrate intake, phlebotomies, and sub-malarial doses of certain analogs of quinine — though, sometimes, there are contraindications.

Dr. STUART.
Gustav, ... phlebotomies?

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Ah! My apologies, Alec; phlebotomy is our jargon for blood-letting.

Dr. STUART.
And, er, ... what are the typical symptoms of this porphyria cutanea tarda?

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
What, apart from those associated with photodermatitis? (Dr. S. nods.) Let me think. ... Severe abdominal pain; constipation; vomiting; muscle pain and weakness, possibly even temporary paralysis; sensory changes; and, ... er, ... Ah, yes! .. dark, red-brown colored urine.

Dr. STUART.
Mmm, ... Would... (Dr. K. interjects.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Alec, no! I have no intention of answering any more of your questions on this subject. (Dr. S. looks surprised.) I do understand your desire to keep pace with the young bloods: but, this is decidedly unhealthy when you show no more than a cursory interest in your own blood.

Dr. STUART.
My daughter, you mean? (He looks embarrassed.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Don't be obtuse, Alec; of course I mean Flora! ... The poor lass had to resort to phoning me last night, simply to try and find out whether there was any medical reason for you not having contacted her over this half-term.

Dr. STUART.
I'm sorry, Gustav, but... (Dr. K. interjects again.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Alec, there is no point in apologizing to me; but I'm sure Flora will be more than happy to receive your apologies.

Dr. STUART.
Oh! (He looks disconcerted.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Indeed! I've invited her to the hospital. (He looks at his watch.) Yes! My lady wife should be here with her in about half an hour's time. (He looks pleased with himself; then he gives Dr. S. a mischievous look.) Ciao!

Dr. STUART.
Ciao, Gustav. (Dr. K. leaves.) ...


7.00 p.m. First evening after half-term. In his study, Dr. S. is listening to Dittersdorf's oratorio Esther; Chalice and Pattullo arrive outside his door, then C. knocks ...

Dr. STUART.
Veni! (C. and P. enter.)

CHALICE.
Well, Sir, what did you think of our play?

Dr. STUART.
Good evening, Sir. Did you enjoy the half-term holiday? ... Thank you, Chalice; so nice of you to ask. (He smiles.) ...

CHALICE.
Oh, sorry, Sir. How was... (Dr. S. holds up his hand.)

Dr. STUART.
No, no matter; the opportune moment has passed. (He sighs in a theatrical manner.) Such is the impetuosity of youth! (He smiles.) ... In the event, I read your dramatized short story three times; and, one or two caveats aside, I was most impressed. However, because I'm no expert, I do think that you should seek wiser counsel; Mr. Gowers, perhaps?

PATTULLO.
We will do that, Sir, (C. nods in assent.) ... but would you be so kind as to spell out your caveats, please?

Dr. STUART.
Certainly. ... For my first reading, I played your specified pieces of classical music at the appropriate intervals: but I must say that none of these morceaux worked for me; more often than not, they simply broke the mood engendered by the dialogue. ... What was the rationale behind your choice?

CHALICE.
Well, Sir, most of the pieces were published in 1683, when Mary Baize died in childbirth.

Dr. STUART.
Oh, I see. ... Fair enough. (He nods; then frowns.) Setting aside the reasonable probability that few — if any — of those in an audience could be expected to appreciate your raison d'être, I doubt whether any of this music would have been available in New England until the early 18th century.

CHALICE.
Would that preclude us from using that curtain music, Sir?

Dr. STUART.
No, not at all. There are, perhaps, better choices; ... for example, the consort music of Matthew Locke, or amongst the ballads and tunes collected by John Playford in the mid-17th century. ...

PATTULLO.
And, your second reading, Sir?

Dr. STUART.
Ah! I played the pieces of folk-rock music you suggested: and these, for me at least, worked very well indeed. ... You might consider adjusting some of the lyrics to dovetail more closely with the dialogue; and,... (P. interrupts.)

PATTULLO.
I'm so sorry to interrupt, Sir, but please could you give me a specific example?

Dr. STUART.
Er, ... Yes. Whilst the spirit, and many of the words, of The Hangman and the Papist, ... before the girls' execution? (C. and P. both nod.), ... are indeed apt — particularly, the hangman being his brother — the inclusion of the word Papist is incongruous, because your hangman — their uncle, Asher Baize — is Protestant, I presume? (C. and P. both nod again.) Furthermore, because this word is most often used in a pejorative sense, you will introduce similar overtones: unnecessarily so, in my opinion, because the tenor of your play is essentially non-denominational.

PATTULLO.
Yes, I see, Sir. ... But, I interrupted?

Dr. STUART.
Oh? Let me think. ... Ah! You might consider rescoring for the acoustic instruments available in the late-17th century?

CHALICE.
Oh! Yes, Sir. ... And, the caveats from your third reading?

Dr. STUART.
Mmm, ... None, as such. ... Although I was a shade intrigued by the varied speech patterns you employed.

PATTULLO.
Well, Sir, we compared the language used by Hawthorne in The Scarlet Letter with that of Miller in The Crucible, and came to the conclusion that there was probably wide variation in English language usage.

CHALICE.
Yes, Sir. ... Perhaps a reflection of the diverse social and geographical origins of the early colonists?

Dr. STUART.
Yes, I would tend to agree with you both. Rather curiously, although Hawthorne probably made a conscious decision to use Elizabethan language in The Scarlet Letter, he does use — in part, at least — similar language in Young Goodman Brown. (C. and P. both frown.) ... Oh! Er, ... That's his short story of witchcraft, set in Salem after the 1692 trials. ...

PATTULLO.
Sir, dost thou have any more slings and arrows? (Dr. S. and C. both smile.)

Dr. STUART.
Perish the thought! (C. and P. both smile.) However, I did note the reference to jaundice in your narrator's prologue; and so, to complement your flow diagram of the anabolism of heme, which you kindly gave me just before half-term, I have prepared one of its catabolism. (He hands both C. and P. a copy of the diagram shown below. ...)

PATTULLO.
Er, ... That is thoughtful of you, Sir. (He looks slightly apologetic.) But I'm afraid Mlle Backson gave Chalice and I a version of your diagram when we were in La Rochelle last term. (C. nods.)

Dr. STUART.
Oh dear!

CHALICE.
Scis quod dicunt: modo vincis, modo vinceris! (She smiles.)

Dr. STUART.
Heu! ... Interdum, sentio aliquos contra me conspirare! (He smiles; then waves away the pair of them in a good-natured manner.) ...


10.30 p.m. In the Headmaster's bedroom, Mr. Pond and his (pregnant) lady wife are asleep; Newton is in his cot in the nursery ...

NEWTON POND.
Aimable personne de théâtre, c'est ton héros, aussi ! M'est avis que la vie n'est pas juste. Pourquoi ? ... Bien, comme tu vois, je bannis toujours «aux éntendues glacées» de la nursery. (He sighs.) Peu importe... À Narkover ce demi-trimestre, beaucoup d'étudiants se présenteront aux examens publiques, tandis les autres se présenteront aux examens internes... Toutefois, pour presque tous les étudiants, le clou sera le point culminant du concours pour les activités extra-scolaires entre les groupes ; c'est-à-dire «Houses», en anglais. Et, à Narkover, ceux-ci sont appelés Buckingham, Gage, Monmouth et Montgomery : je te demande un peu !?... Tu ne compris pas ? Non ? Oh, je suis très désolé ; laisse-moi t'expliquer. ... Chaque groupe porte le nom d'un homme dont les efforts ont été vains dans une rébellion : le premier duc de Buckingham, George Villiers, ministre favori du roi Jacques Premier, au siège de La Rochelle en 1627 ; le général Thomas Gage, gouverneur militaire de Massachusetts, à Concord et à Lexington en 1774-1775 ; le premier duc de Monmouth, James Scott, fils illégitime du roi Charles II, à Sedgemoor en 1685 ; enfin et surtout, le général Richard Montgomery, commandant colonial américain, à Montréal en 1775-1776... On doit présumer quelqu'un avait un sens capricieux d'humour dans le passé ?... Mmm,... Je pense que c'est tout pour le moment... À tantôt !...


11.15 p.m. In the Salieris' bedroom, Sig. Sal. is asleep but his lady wife is still awake; Sig. Sal. starts to talk in his sleep ...

Sig. SALIERI.
Ti amo ... ... (She waits expectantly.) Ti amo ... Agnello. (She looks annoyed; then pushes him; he rolls onto the carpeted floor and wakes up.) Aïe !!

VESPINA.
Oh là là ! Comment vas-tu, mon pauvre cheri ?... Tu faisais un cauchemar. (Her tone is sympathetic, but with an edge.)

Sig. SALIERI.
Un cauchemar ? De quoi ?

VESPINA.
Je sais pas; peut-être, des agnelles ? (A. colours slightly as he turns about face and walks towards the bathroom.)

Sig. SALIERI.
Euh,... Je fais un brin de toilette.

VESPINA.
Dépêche-toi,... s'il te plaît. (Her tone is seductive; A. grimaces, then sighs deeply but tacitly.) ...

________________________________________________________________________________________

2. There once was a lamb called Dolly, whose birth had been considered a folly. But through care and devotion, she matured on a farm station, guarded by a dog called Tally. Then one All Hallows' eve, the collie went absent, without leave, and this fortune teller became just recent. Some philistines with mutts, had come looking for guts, to fashion not fiddles but garters; so they excised her entrails, fed their brutes the choice muscles, and bequeathed her bones as would be clones.

________________________________________________________________________________________

2.45 p.m. Last afternoon of term. Sig. Sal. enters a room for his final General Studies lesson of the term with the 5th-Remove ...

Sig. SALIERI.
Ciao, tutti! (Silence; class absent. He starts to speak to himself.) Non importa. ... Mi pare che farei l'appello? ... Certo! ... Ms. Salice Albero: assente. Brown: assente. Ms. Shandy Drynck: assente. East: assente. Flashman: (He starts smiling.) assente. Ms. Malice A. Forthort: assente. Ms. Alice Lidell-Lonsdale: assente. McKechnie: (He starts chuckling.) assente. Merridew: assente. Mumford: assente. Pattullo: assente. Piggy? ... Morto! (His chuckle has a slight but distinct macabre tone.) Ms. Popsy Rice: assente. Ms. Lolli Stich: assente. (At this point, unbeknownst to him, Mlle Gossâge has shimmered into view.) Unman: assente. Wittering: assente. Zigo: assente! ... Assente! Assente! As... (Mlle G. interrupts his increasingly manic behaviour.)

Mlle GOSSÂGE.
Arsenio!!?

Sig. SALIERI.
Agnès? ... Dio mio! (He looks embarrassed.) Ecco, ... Mia cara Agnello,... (Mlle G. interrupts.)

Mlle GOSSÂGE.
Hmph! Less of the "darling lamb"! ... In heaven's name, why have you been taking a roll-call in an empty classroom!?

Sig. SALIERI.
My Year 11 students haven't arrived.

Mlle GOSSÂGE.
Mon pauvre Arsenio. (She shakes her head.) Of course they haven't; they're completing the preparations for their Prom tonight.

Sig. SALIERI.
Oh yes; I'd forgotten. (He sighs.)

Mlle GOSSÂGE.
Mmm, ... One way or t'other, my knight errant has a penchant for tilting at windmills? (She smiles warmly.) ...


4.00 p.m. A sprinkling of Narkover's staff are in the staff-room; the Headmaster, a shade breathlessly, enters ...

Mr. POND.
Good afternoon, everybody. I apologize profusely for having to call this emergency staff meeting: but, unfortunately, we have a minor crisis on our hands. ... As you are doubtless aware, the Lord Lieutenant of Borsetshire has been seriously ill for several weeks. Last night, Lady Archer informed me that she felt her husband's prospects of a complete recovery would be severely prejudiced were he to attempt to fulfil his traditional rôle tomorrow, on Speech Day. Accordingly, we are without a distinguished person to present the prizes. ... Any suggestions, please? ...

Mlle GOSSÂGE.
Headmaster, may I suggest your brother-in-law, Father Richelieu? (Murmurs of approval from several of the staff; Mr. P. frowns.)

Mr. POND.
Agnès, my lady wife has already advanced that suggestion; unfortunately, the Lycée Villiers has an important function of its own tomorrow. Moreover, one doubts whether either of his two hobby-horses, the Siege of La Rochelle or the sanctity of marriage, (He glances almost imperceptibly at Miss G. and Sig. Sal.) ... would be warmly received by our students. ... ...

Dr. STUART.
Perhaps, Headmaster, Dr. Krautmann; although I wouldn't know whether you consider Gustav to be a "distinguished person"?

Mr. POND.
Most definitely, Alec; splendid idea! ... But would he agree to step into the breach?

Dr. STUART.
Yes, I think so, Headmaster, providing we don't ask him to give his Speech in French; as your lady wife will doubtless confirm, (He smiles graciously at Mrs. P.) Gustav's French is not for those with a sensitive disposition.

Mr. POND.
Fine; English will be most acceptable. Alec, may I rely on you to make the necessary arrangements, please? (He smiles at Dr. S., who nods.) ... Ah! One last point before we make our separate ways. I must remind everyone to be especially vigilant this evening; on past form, certain members of our Year 11 might be expected to throw a few unwelcome surprises during or after their Prom. (He sighs and shakes his head.) Thank you. ...


11.45 p.m. The last night of term. In the Headmaster's bedroom, Mr. Pond and his (pregnant) lady wife are asleep; Newton is in his cot ...

NEWTON POND.
Aimable personne de théâtre,... c'est moi pour la dernière fois. Cela me rend triste, bien sûr : mais on doit continuer sa vie. Tu es d'accord ? Bon !... Par où vais-je commencer ? ... J'y penserai... Ah ! Depuis la fondation de Narkover, en 1859, chaque jour de la distribution des prix — Speech Day, en anglais — a suivi un modèle de l'uniforme... Tout d'abord, la remise des prix et une homélie par le Lord Lieutenant de Borsetshire,... «les balivernes supérieures», tu te demandes. Bôf ! Péris la pensée ! Tu n'as pas honte !?... ... Puis, un discours par Monsieur le proviseur,... et, cette année, il va sans dire que mon paternal sera disserter avec lyrisme à propos de choses et d'autres... ... Puis, un buffet,... du meilleur goût, bien sûr ; c'est-à-dire, des sandwichs au concombre, des fraises à la crème, du vin bien frais, et ce genre de choses... ... Puis, une célébration de la messe,... mais, je dois vous rappeler que notre lycée est quasiment séculier... ... Puis, enfin et surtout, le sport entre les groupes. (He yawns.) Je vous prie de m'excuser ; j'ai sommeil. Et, il me faut beaucoup de sommeil, parce que la journée de demain sera difficile pour ton héros !... À bientôt !...

EPILOGUE: Consolatrix afflictorum

10.00 a.m. Speech Day. Seated left, of the central aisle of a marquee, are the immaculately presented students; and right, are their guardians and relatives — many sporting exotic creations from Hydragyrum Chapelier Vinaigrette; and at one end, on a raised stage, are the distinguished guests and academic staff — most of whom are wearing academic gowns with with hoods: Mr. Pond, Narkover's Headmaster, is on his feet ...

Mr. POND.
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. ... As many of you may be aware, Sir Forest Archer is seriously ill; accordingly, neither he nor Lady Archer are able to honour us with their presence. Nevertheless, Dr. Krautmann, the school's doctor, has graciously consented to step into the breach. So, without further ado. (He makes a gracious gesture towards Dr. K.)

Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Thank you, Headmaster; my pleasure indeed. ... Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. First, as custom demands, the prizes! ... The Year 7 prize for Home Economics to Lambert Basting. ... (Applause.) ... ... ... The Year 9 prize for Needlework to Ms. Eva Stich. ... ... The Year 10 prize for Gym to Peter Trainer. ... ... ... ... And, finally, the Lord Lieutenant's prize, for overall academic achievement, to Ralph Pattullo. (Applause.) ... ... Whilst I am genuinely honored to be the guest speaker, albeit an ersatz one, I must admit to being a shade apprehensive once I had accepted the invitation, early yesterday evening; after all, in theater companies, even the understudy has ample time to learn the cues and lines. But, what should be the lines of my speech? ... My first thoughts centered on anecdotes; my childhood in a desecrated Dresden, my student days in Heidleberg, my time researching in Boston under Dr. Brummel's grandfather, and so forth. ... However, I realized that most of you students here would have already heard the choicest of these morsels on visits to my surgery in school; ... which I gather is referred to, out of Matron Nightingale's hearing, as «Scutari». (He casts a glance in the direction of the Year 11 sans-culottes.) Unfortunately, no Plan 'B' materialized in my mind, as the clock approached the bewitching hour of midnight: so I adopted the maxim that «desperate times call for desperate measures», and phoned Dr. Stuart to see if my old chum had any suggestions. Hmph! Indeed he had! Although these days I'm in general practice, he suggested that I could talk about my specialism: namely, gynecology. Initially, I thought that the lateness of the hour had prompted him to reveal his waggish sense of humor. (He addresses the students.) Yes, Students, believe it, or believe it not, one definitely lurks beneath that upstanding exterior. (He then addresses the whole.) Humorous, because Dr. Stuart knows, as well as I do, that gynecology is never the first choice of subject for casual conversation in mixed company. ... Be that as it may, I soon realized that, during my lifetime, I have been witness to some remarkable advances in methods which either prevent or facilitate reproduction of the human species. ... And, probably to the relief of one and all, this brings me onto my chosen theme: human cloning. ... Most research scientists neither have the desire nor the opportunity to dissemble when presenting their additions to the web of knowledge. ... Nevertheless, for various reasons, parts of this web do become entangled in the minds of many, perhaps most, laypersons. For example, as students, they will have been required, ... under a threat of a fate worse than death, ... to know the distinction between asexual and sexual reproduction, as well as between mitosis and meiosis. Perfectly reasonably, one might expect these terms to figure prominently in public presentations and discussions of the advanced methods of facilitating human reproduction: but not so! ... Thus, currently, cloning is presented, and so widely perceived, as being just a natural extension of in vivo and in vitro methods of human reproduction by fertilization; the time-honored and 'test-tube' methods, respectively: but once again, this is not so! ... Thus, using the biological terms which students are required to know, cloning involves purely mitosis, whereas fertilization is preceded by meiosis. Mmm? ... I will attempt to crystallize the fundamental biological difference. If a male is cloned by mitosis, the individual so created would be that male's identical twin brother, and his biological parents are those of the original male. For example, were I, ... Gustav 'Mark 1', ... to be cloned, my mother and father would be the biological parents of this clone: Gustav 'Mark 2'. Similarly, if my lady wife Marianne was cloned, the individual so created would be her identical twin sister, and her mother and father would therefore be its biological parents. ... Marianne and I have been blessed with two children — now grown-up — produced, so to speak, by meiosis and subsequent in-vivo fertilization; and so we are, for better or worse, their biological parents. Accordingly, should either Marianne or I decide to be cloned, then such a decision must directly affect several individuals, including one set of our biological parents, Marianne and myself, our two biological children, and last, but definitely not least, the clone. ... Which begs several interlinked questions! ... Who would or should be legally and/or morally responsible for the initial decision? What should be the criteria for judging the perceived wisdom of this decision? What should be the criteria for determining the suitability of those that would judge? ... Who would or should be legally and/or morally responsible for the development of the clone, from a single somatic cell, through childhood, then adolescence, and beyond into adulthood? How, in practice, could any one person or group of persons be held truly accountable for a decision which is irreversible and is taken on behalf of all future generations? Etc., etc., etc. (He smiles, and then addresses the students.) I would hazard the guess that, at this moment, several of your teachers may well be silently cussing yours truly, because they will have realized that my speech has opened up a Pandora's box: which they, and not I, will have to address next academic year. (He then addresses the whole.) ... But what is meant by the expression «to open up Pandora's box»? Is it, perhaps, an erudite equivalent of the colloquial expression «to let the cat out of the bag»? Well, in a word, no! ... A Pandora's box is one which, once opened, releases all manner of evils and curses; when these have flown forth, only hope remains in the box. ... Now, to let a cat out of its bag, perhaps? ... In the school grounds is a plaque, bearing the somewhat enigmatic inscription Hat Wissensdrang Xavier Getötet?, erected by Chalice Poison in memory of her brother, Xavier Piggy, who, nearly two years ago, sadly lost his life here at Narkover. ... Whilst the County Coroner returned the verdict of "accidental death by drowning", my death certificate recorded "death by drowning in the lake, preceded by a massive anaphylatic shock caused by contact with cat fur". Then, as now, certain aspects of Xavier's death proved most disturbing, including: the time of death, which was well after lights-out; its location; and the presence of a red cloak. (Muted gasps from the majority of the students, followed by bemused looks from the parents and guardians.) However, we did establish which cat's fur induced the allergic reaction whose exceptional severity was to prove fatal for Xavier. (He draws a curtain at the back of the stage, and picks up a cat sitting on a leather bag in a basket.) That fur belonged to a moggy named Fleabit, whom my wife and I subsequently adopted. ... The older students here will have noted that the cat I'm holding in my arms is the splitting image of Fleabit. But, is this cat: Fleabit, himself; his chronological doppelgänger, preceded by meiosis of the reproductive cells of his parents, and produced from the same fertilized egg in the womb of his mother; or, his time-elapsed doppelgänger, produced by mitosis from Fleabit by cloning? (He then places the cat back in its basket, and picks up a violin.) ... My hobby is making period instrument fiddles; this instrument has been strung with 'catgut'; and this 'tune' I'm about to play is called Die Katz, which was arranged by Heinrich Biber in 1669 from a melody composed by Athanasius Kircher in 1650. (He plays same; ca. 35 seconds later, he addresses the students.) Students, do you think I have just provided clues for solving that conundrum, or have I merely dissembled? (He smiles; then addresses the whole.) Thank you all for listening. (Spontaneous applause)

Mr. POND.
Thank you most kindly, Gustav. (He smiles warmly at Dr. K., and then addresses the whole.) In previous years, I have harboured a suspicion that my speech will probably have been an anticlimax after the one given by the guest speaker: but, this year listening with pleasure to Dr. Krautmann's speech, (He makes a gracious gesture towards Dr. K.) I've no doubt that mine will be anticlimatic. ... Nevertheless, perhaps to everyone's chagrin, (He smiles.) I'll press on regardless, not least because this academic year has undoubtedly been a momentous one for Narkover; having been our inaugural year as a co-educational, bilingual school. ... My review of the year starts, as usual, .... ... ... ... (About fifty minutes minutes later ...) ... Finally, may I draw your attention to one enforced change in our programme for the rest of Speech Day? ... Whilst, by tradition, Narkover completes the school year with a celebration of Mass, I feel that, in view of Sir Forest's unfortunate illness, this year we should partake of a more appropriate service. Accordingly, after the buffet lunch, we will reassemble in the chapel to hear the school's choir and orchestra perform, under Sig. Salieri's direction, Zelenka's litany, Consolatrix afflictorum — the comforter of the sick — composed in Dresden, in 1741, when the Electress Maria Joseph fell ill. Zelenka wrote a second litany, Salum infirmorum, when the Electress regained her health: and, I'm sure we all hope that we will be in a position to celebrate Sir Forest's recovery, with a performance of this work when the students return to Narkover in the autumn term to expand their own Spinnwebe von Wissen. ...

Playlet 7 (Autumn Term 3):
L'Uccelliera