Excerpted from Act 1, Scene 3 of Stage Kiss
Copyright ©2006, Kiran H. Rikhye. All rights reserved.
Enter Phyllida and Mother.
Phyllida: Nay, Mother, upon my honor I shall
not. For to do as you say would be ruin
and misery both!
Mother: “On
thine honor!”
Wouldst thou but listen to me and thou should have no honor to swear
on. ‘Tis a heavy burden, honor. Do as I did and let it go. Thou shalt sleep
better once ‘tis gone.
Phyllida: ‘Tis the
very thing, Mother. I would fain keep
it.
Mother: Thou
wouldst keep it? Oh, woe the day that e’er I bore thee, for I have taught thee nothing of the
world.
Phyllida: Nay Mother, thy brain is most
addled. ‘Tis I
who know all and thou knowest but little. Thou fearest
Neptune, so thou sayest…
Mother: Fear
him as thou wouldst fear him thyself, were thee not a winkling devil of a girl.
Phyllida: Aye, but what can I do? How can I marry? Who shall take as his wife a simple maiden,
with scarcely a penny, nor name, nor father to call her own? Only a fool would take such a wife as I, and
shall I marry no fool.
Mother: Marry? No one must marry thee. Neptune asks virgins; he cares not if the wench
be married.
Phyllida: What then wouldst thou have me do, Mother? Prithee, tell.
Mother: Marry…
Phyllida: Marry?!
Mother: Marry,
‘tis the most foolish brat that e’er lived in this
quaint Greek island town.
Phyllida: Foolish? Callst thou thy
daughter foolish that she would not give up that one thing which she has? Besides, mother, I like not boys.
Mother: What
then wouldst thou do, child? Canst not stay here,
for so long as thou be’est virgin must thou never be
safe, for all know that of all the maids of this quaint Greek island town, thou
art the fairest.
Phyllida: I?
Fair? I’faith,
‘tis true. Mayhap the fairest…
Mother: Mayhap,
says the girl? I’ll tell thee sure. Hast thee not the
handsomest figure in all the town? A fine, clear countenance.
The sweetest red lips that e’er I did see, and
doe-eyed, thou art. Thy
legs—long and whitely; and thy precious mounds, like two berries. Nay, not berries—apples. Two apples…most pretty. Have not all manner of men told thee so
themselves, when thou dost go to market?
Were I not thine own mother, and had thee
pants, my child, I should like to get within them.
Phyllida: Stay, Mother; there’s wisdom in thy
words. ‘Tis
most unusual that it should be so, and yet methinks
thou hast got an idea, mayhap the first that e’er
thou didst have. Had I pants, thou sayest. An I did—an I concealed myself in men’s weeds, then could I
pass the time of Neptune’s choosing and escape danger. Then would there be no need
for loss of maidenhead, nor fear neither.
Mother:
Thou talkst as though a maidenhead, once gone, can
never be got back. A clever girl may
have as many maidenheads as pleases her.
Phyllida: And hast thou not said thyself that I
am a fool? Marry, mother, thou wert surely
right. Without that, then shall I never
find a husband—a thing to me most dreadful to me, but most wondrous to thee.
Mother: ‘Tis well thought.
Verily, I fear thou hast not the wit to be more than one time a
maid. Innocence requires a quick mind.
Phyllida: I have not the shrewdness for it. Therefore, Mother, be not hard. Let thy Phyllida
put on mens’ weeds and in the forest conceal
herself. Then shall Neptune find another
virgin and, I suffer no greater loss than my petticoats. To the woods shall I go, and there—away from
thee—shall I be safe. Then shall I
return to thee again when Neptune hath another maiden claimed.
Mother: What thou lackst
in kindness, my girl, thou hast in shrewdness.
Phyllida: Aye, mother; I know.
Mother: Mayhap
I have taught thee more of the world than I thought. Come, Phyllida. Now must we find thee men’s attire, and
quickly—for the gods see what mortals think they have hidden.
Phyllida: Aye, Mother. How thou dost prattle!
Exeunt.