This next scene, Act 2 Scene 2, is easily the longest in the entire play. For that reason, I'm dividing it into segments, meaning I won't translate the whole sucker in one go. I'll continually paste new additions into this post, to keep the tradition of one scene per post alive.
Act 2, Scene 2
Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Ducky and Petrie]
Mr. Threehorn. Welcome, dear Ducky and Petrie.
As much as we truly just wanted to see you,
There is reason for our summonings.
Thou must have heard something
Of Littlefoot's transformation. As I see it,
Neither the outside nor the inside of the man
Resembles what it was. Whatever it is, even
More than his grandfather's death, that hath put him
So much from th' personality of his old self,
I cannot dream of. I entreat you both
That, having been his friend for most of his life,
And therefore in his utmost confidence,
That you visit him soon, spark him in conversation
Some little time; so by your company
Thou might loosen his tongue, and gather
What information you can about that whih afflits him.
Grandma. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd about you of late,
And I am sure there are not two other friends living
To whom he is more closely allied. If it will please you
To show us so much compliance and obedience
As to expend some time with him awhile.
Since you wilt bring the valley much hope,
Your visitation shall receive thee such thanks
As would suggest a king.
Ducky. Both of your Majesties
Art aware that either of thee could,
by the sovereign power you have over us,
Have phrased your requests into commands
And we could not say nay.
Petrie. But we both obey,
And here give up ourselves
To lay our services freely at your disposal,
To be commanded.
Mr. Threehorn. Thanks, Ducky and Petrie.
Grandma. Thanks, Petrie and gentle Ducky.
And I beseech you instantly to visit
My deranged grandson.
Ducky. [with Petrie] We will, madam.
Exeunt Ducky and Petrie.
[Enter Old One.]
Old One. Th' ambassadors from the Myterious Beyond, my good lord,
Are joyfully return'd.
Mr. Threehorn. Thou still hast been the bearer of good news.
Old One. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,
I hold my duty as I hold my soul,
Both to my God and to my gracious king;
And I do think- unless I am not as quick-witted
as I thought I was- that I have found
The very cause of Littlefoot's lunacy.
Mr. Threehorn. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear.
Old One. First allow the ambassadors in.
My news shall be the fruit to their great feast.
Mr. Threehorn. Of course. Please bring them in.
[Exit Old One.]
He tells me, my dear Grandma, he hath found
The cause of all your son's distemper.
Grandma. I doubt it is no other but his grief
over his father's death and our hasty marriage.
Mr. Threehorn. Well, we shall set him straight.
[Enter Old One, Ozzy, and Strut.]
Welcome, my good friends.
Say, Ozzy, what from our brother kingdom the Mysterious Beyond?
Ozzy. Thank you for the greetings and desires.
Upon my word, we set out to suppress
Prince Chomper’s preparations; which to us appear'd
To be a preparation 'gainst the Mysterious Beyond,
But upon further investigation, he soon found
It was against your Highness; this grieved us,
and spurred him to send out arrests
On Chomper; which he, in brief, obeys,
visits his father the figurehead leader
And makes vow before him never more
To give raise arms against your Majesty.
Whereon his old fahter, overcome with joy,
Gives him three thousand treestars in annual fee
And his commission to employ those soldiers,
Already assembled, against the Berry Valley;
With an plea to you, oh Threehorn,
[Gives a paper.]
That it might please you to give quiet passage
to his troops through the Great Valley
So that they may make their unrelated journey
As they please to do.
Mr. Threehorn. It seems a fair request;
And at our more secluded time we'll read,
Answer, and think upon this business.
Meantime we thank you for your hard work.
Go rest yourselves; at night we'll feast together.
Most welcome home!
[Exeunt Ambassadors.]
Old One. This business has ended well.
Therefore my lord, since briefness is a virtue,
And I wish to be virtuous,
I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.
Mad I call it; for, to define true madness,
What is it but to be nothing but mad?
But let that go. . .
Grandma. More substance, less poetry.
Old One. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure!
But farewell it, for I will use no art.
Let us admit he is mad then. And now remains
That we find out the cause of this effect-
Or rather, the cause of this defect.
I have a daughter
Who in her duty and obedience,
Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise.
[Reads the letter.]
'To the heavenly, and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ali,'-
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile phrase.
Grandma. Littlefoot sent this to her?
Old One. Good madam, please stay silent. I will finish soon. [Reads.]
Thou may doubt the stars are fire;
Thou may doubt that the Great Circle doth move;
Thou may doubt truth to be a liar;
But never may thou doubt I love.
LITTLEFOOT.’
This, in obedience, hath my daughter Ali shown me;
And told me of more; his passionate remarks to her,
From whatever means and places he hath spoke them to her,
All have been told to me.
Mr. Threehorn. But how hath she
Receiv'd his love?
Old One. What do you think of me?
Mr. Threehorn. A faithful and honourable man.
Old One. I would hope so. But what might you think,
When I had seen this hot love of Littlefoot’s
(Which is what I thought it was, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me), what might you,
Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think,
If I had remained mute and silent,
and chosen to let the crush run its course?
What might you think? No, I went round to work
And to my young daughter I said thus:
'Lord Littlefoot is a prince, out of thy league.
This must not be.' And then I advised her,
That she should lock herself from his heart,
And avoid all contact with him.
And he, repulsed, and to my surprise,
Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
Thence to a lightness, thence into a weakness,
And finally into the madness wherein he now raves,
And all we mourn for.
Mr. Threehorn. Do you think this is it?
Grandma. it may be, very like.
Old One. Hath there been such a time
That I have said I am positive something is so
When it prov'd otherwise?
Mr. Threehorn. Not that I know.
Old One. [points to her head and shoulder] Take this from this,
If it becomes known that I am wrong.
Mr. Threehorn. How may we test your theory further?
Old One. You know sometimes he walks for hours
Here in the lobby.
Grandma. So he does indeed.
Old One. At such a time I'll let loose my daughter at him.
You and I shall be behind a tree then.
See what happens. If he love her not,
And he does not play the role of a rebuked lover
Let me fall from my post as your advisor,
And live out my life as a grass crawler.
Mr. Threehorn. We will try it.
[Enter Littlefoot]
Grandma. But look how sadly the poor wretch comes!
Old One. Away, I do beseech you, both give me leave.
[Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants].]
How goes my good Lord Littlefoot?
Littlefoot. Well, God willing.
Old One. Do you know me, my lord?
Littlefoot. I know you quite well. You are a fish catcher.
Old One.. Not I, my lord.
Littlefoot. Then I wish you were so honest a man.
Old One. Honest, my lord?
Littlefoot. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man
pick'd out of ten thousand.
Old One. That's very true, my lord.
Littlefoot. For even maggots, upon dead flesh, do not hide their true colors- Have you a daughter?
Old One. I have, my lord.
Littlefoot. Let her not walk in the Great Circle's light. Conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to it.
Old One. [to herself] Still harping on my daughter. Yet
he knew me not at first. He said I was a fisher. He is far
gone, far gone! Yet when I was young I suff'red much pain
from love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do you
think, my lord?
Littlefoot. Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.
Old One. What is the matter, my lord?
Littlefoot. Between who?
Old One. I mean, the matter with that you think, my lord.
Littlefoot. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue in my head says that old women
have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes
purging the sap from tree trunks; and that they have a
plentiful lack of wit. All which,
sir, though I most powerfully believe it, yet I hold it
is not honesty to consider it set in stone; for you yourself, ma'am,
should be old as I am if, like a Sand Crawler, you could go backward.
Old One. [to herself] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't.-
How pregnant sometimes
his replies are! I had thought madness gives one a contentedness
the likes of which reason and sanity never could. I
will leave him and contrive the means of meeting between
him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly take
my leave of you.
Littlefoot. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more
willingly part with- except my life, except my life, except my
life,
[Enter Ducky and Petrie.]
Old One. Fare you well, my lord.
Littlefoot. These tedious old fools!
Old One. You've come to seek the Lord Littlefoot. There he is.
Ducky. [to Old One] God save you, sir!
[Exit [Old One].]
Petrie. Littlefoot, friend!
Ducky. Our most dear friend!
Littlefoot. My excellent good friends! How goes thou, Petrie? Ah,
Ducky! Good mates, how are ye both?
Ducky. As we have always been, children of the earth.
Petrie. Happy in that we are not overly happy.
On the scale of happiness we are not too high up.
Littlefoot. Nor too far down?
Ducky. Nor too far down. True that, my lord.
Littlefoot. Then you live about the middle?
Petrie. Where there is the greatest chance to go up or down, aye.
Littlefoot. The stormy parts of the scale? O! most true! Now, what news have you? Why have you come?
Ducky. None, my lord, just a simple visit.
Littlefoot. I love simple visits! But your words are not true. Let me
clarify. What have you, my good friends,
done to Lady Fate that she sends you to prison
as well?
Petrie. Prison, my lord?
Littlefoot. The Great Valley's a prison.
Ducky.. Then is the world a prison?
Littlefoot. Aye, a prison; in which there are many jails, The Great Valley being one o' th' worst.
Ducky. We do not think so, my lord.
Littlefoot. Why, then it is not a prison to you; for there is nothing either good or bad physically; ëtis thinking it is a prison that makes it so. To me it is a prison. But again, we stray off-topic. I ask again, what makes you come here?
Ducky. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
Littlefoot. Were you not sent here?
Is it your own free will? I know your motives do
not match with your smiles! Come, come! Speak.
Petrie. What should we say, my lord?
Littlefoot. Why, anything- so long as it’s about your purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which you have not the skill enough to hide. I know the good King and Queen
have sent for you.
Ducky. Why would they send us, my lord?
Littlefoot. I await for you to tell me. But let me ask you once more;
by the years of our friendship, by the promises of our youth, by the
obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by anything we have shared in all our long lives, be even and direct with me: were you were sent for or no?
Ducky. [aside to Petrie] What should we say?
Littlefoot. [aside] Nay then, I have to keep an eye on you.- If you love me, lie not to me.
Petrie My lord, we were indeed sent for.
Littlefoot. Thank you. Now, to repay your honesty,
I will tell you why you have come. This way my anticipation can prevent your having to reveal thy true colours, and your secrecy to the King and Queen remains safe. I have of late lost all my happiness, forgone all custom of exercise; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that the entire earth,
seems no more to me than a foul and pestilent collection of vapours. What a
piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in
possibilities! in form and moving how expressive! in
action how like a god! The beauty of the world, the greatest of animals!
And yet to me, what is this worthless body of dust? Man delights not me- nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to think so.
Ducky. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
Littlefoot. Then why did you laugh when I said 'Man delights not me'?
Ducky. I was thinking, my lord, if you delight not in man, what little
entertainment the acting troupe shall receive from you. We spotted them
on the way, and convinced them to come offer you service.
Enter the Tinysauruses.
Petrie. There is the acting troupe.
Littlefoot. [To Tinysauruses] G entlemen, you are welcome to the Great Valley. Come, Ducky, Petrie, clap your hands! Come! ëTis in fashion to give the appearance of welcome. Let me comply
with this fashion, lest the players should give better performances than yourselves. You are welcome.
Big Daddy. Thank you, my good lord.
Littlefoot. Good my friends, will you see the actors are fed and roomed? Do you hear? Let them be well taken care of; for they are the chroniclers of the time. After your death ëtwould be better to have a
bad gravestone epitaph than their ill report while you live.
Ducky and Petrie. My lord, we will use them according to your wishes.
Littlefoot. Much better! Treat them well before your own
honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in
giving them more. Take them in.
Petrie. Come, sirs.
Littlefoot. Follow them, friends. We'll hear a play to-morrow.
[Exeunt Ducky, Petrie and Tinysaurs [except Big Daddy].]
Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murder of
The Lone Dinosaur'?
Big Daddy. Ay, my lord.
Littlefoot. We'll have it to-morrow night. Also, could you, for a small sum, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would compose and
insert in it, could you not?
Big Daddy. Ay, my lord.
Littlefoot. Very well. Follow those men - and look you mock them not.
[Exit Big Daddy.]
Now I am alone.
O what a rogue and worthless wretch am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
Had he the necessity or for want of coin,
Could force his soul to do his bidding so well
That, tears in his eyes, voice broken,
and countenance a wreck, could weep
For his character’s love? And all for nothing!
For a nonexistent lover!
What's that lover to him, or he to her,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for anger
That I have? What if he had a shamed and murd’red
Father whom he must avenge?
He would drown the stage with tears
And deafen the general ear with horrid speech;
Make mad the guilty and appall the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
Every eye and ear in the kingdom.
Yet I,
A dull and indecisive ingrate,
Can say nothing! No, not for a king,
Upon whose honor and most dear life
The Mysterious Beyond was taken! Am I a coward?
'Zounds, I should just kill him! for it cannot be
That I am lily-liver'd and lack gall,
Or ere I could not have slaid Lord Sharptooth
As I so decisively did! O, vengeance!
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Ordered to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Just stand idle and fill the air with words
Not blood!
Fie upon it! fie! About face, my brain!
Hum, perhaps there is another way.
I have heard that guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have, upon seeing a scene that appears
To know and declare “You hath done this!”,
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They on the spot proclaim their evil deeds.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With the right prompting. I'll have these Players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before his royal threehorn. I’ll show the great lone dinosaur
Murder’d through the ear by sweetbubble sap.
I'll observe Threehorn’s looks; if he but blush,
I know what I must do. I'll have grounds
More proven than then have I now. Ay, the play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. [Exit.]
