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The author of this work is a little known Italian playwright — Giovanni Morrivecchia — though clearly a man of great talent. This lost work was found in John Morris’ basement among papers that were destined to be used for wrapping trout, and rescued. Nothing is known about the remainder of the work. It appears here under the exclusive publishing rights of The Ancient and Honorable Bibliophilic Society, all rights reserved, © 2006. Act III, Scene 2: Gioninni’s Chamber Gioninni
(a courtier). He plays his violin. | |
| Warrok: |
Look you how he plays upon his violin… His teeth clenched, his eyes two bulging orbs So fiercely doth he clutch his fiddle’s neck As though to saw away were not enough … He needs must choke it, too, and make it yelp As might have David, had he not a rock to throw. |
| Roussell: |
Surely, it doth seem he needs instruction… He sets at odds the ear against himself With all his random tripping over strings… For though it is his duty he should hear, When fingers so mistake themselves for feet, Who should fault the ear his want of stoppers? |
| Antonia: |
(Aside) Methinks this tune he plays was made for me… I mean Antonia, who I truly am And not Antonio whose guise I needs must wear ’Til Fortune make adjustment to my state… ’Twould complete his strategy of wooing Which, like a farmers milk-stool hath three legs, The first being lovelorn looks, the next, bad verse, And thirdly, dreadful music poorly played. |
| Squiz: |
Gioninni! |
| Gioninni: |
Ah, my gentlemen friends!
Prithee, what brings you to my practice place? Was’t that thou heard my playing and wished for more? |
| Roussell: |
Thy playing, indeed. For had it been our wish To hear cats express themselves in lusty yowling Any alley would suffice… |
| Squiz: |
But we are here
Like denizens of an adjoining room Who, hearing thy rare tones, do knock the wall As though to say, “play more … and louder still.” |
| Gioninni: |
Well then, I shall play my composition Writ for one…oh, thou must not know for whom… Only that she, in sweet and gentle nature, Doth rival pansies on a sunny hill As they do seem to nod their lovely heads In pleasure of their breezy circumstance. But be still mouth! E’en now I’ve said too much For she alone doth such arrayment wear On all this earth…and do you guess her name? |
| Warrok: |
(Aside) So…a maiden is the inspiration For all his arduous yanking on his stick. Now I know as much, I shall tug it, too. For shame Gioninni! What courtier art thou That thou should speak in such defining terms Of thy amant that all might know her? What of thy duty? What of her honor? To say she’s like a pansy on a hill… Why, ’tis a give-a-way, is’t not Roussell? |
| Roussell: |
Why, so it is…and I am greatly shocked That you, Gioninni, should speak so plainly. Why not suspend her likeness o’er the moon So all might see her profiled in relief As provide such one-pertaining detail? |
| Gioninni: |
O, what is’t I have done? You know her then? |
| Squiz: |
Verily, she’s on the tip of my tongue… |
| Warrok: |
And mine… and I could nearly say her name… |
| Roussell: |
As could I…save t’would be impolitic. Therefore, Gioninni, thou must say her name So we may tell you if we guessed correctly. |
| Gioninni: |
I must say her name? |
| Squiz: |
Indeed, to verify
The high quality of our surmising… |
| Gioninni: |
I should rather name yourselves as rascals, Since you will seek to play me for a fool. Will you pump me ’til I wheeze her name aloud? And did you not this moment only past Berate me for the looseness of my speech As to the name the lovely lady bears? |
| Antonia: |
Gioninni, you mistake our meaning. To know her name was never our intent Except, by knowing whom, to better judge The fitness of the piece thou hast composed To place within thy damsel’s hearing. Attend me. Thou sayest that thy lady nods. Why then, methinks, mayhap she drools as well, Sates her waning appetite with palsied hand, Slurs her speech and walks with frail, halting steps. Beauty such as this requires a languid piece, One soft in texture and in performance brief Thus not to fright her sweet and gentle nature And make her flee. Now do you apprehend? We are your friends, and seek to aid thy suit. |
| Warrok: |
Well said, Antonio…meek and over quickly, All pow’rful thrusting with the bow abjured… Tis how you’ll warm the cockles of her heart. But enough of counsel. Let’s hear the work. |
| Gioninni: |
I shall play it…but first must thank you all For thy kindly friendship-driven counsel. And since words will ne’er suffice, I offer this… A sulfur-ladened sign of my esteem. (Farts) |
| Roussell: |
Egad! He has unleashed St. Elmo’s fire! The air turns blue with toxins. We must fly Lest we perish like the Spaniard in St Paul’s! (All depart save Antonia) |
| Gioninni: |
Antonio! A moment with you, if you will. Do not depart, but take thy nose in hand In multiple defense against both air And the rankness of the notes that I perform. I would play for you my composition, For thou, as I have formerly remarked, Art so likely cloaked in all thy features To her whom I admire, I must believe That should my tune find favor in thy ear, Then she, too, may deign to make acceptance Of my intended gift. |
| Antonia: |
(Clasps her nose) As I am thy friend, My ears extend themselves t’embrace thy tune… (Gioninni commences to play) (Aside) Only I do beg thee play it sprightly Nor with e’en a single pause for mangled tones Since thy fouling of the air necessitates That I must nearly stop my breath until you’ve done. What predicament is this that I am in That I must to Aphrodite’s son attend, Who would win my heart through wooing of my twin With honeyed speech and music from each end? ’Tis some impish god who doth this mischief sew To make this Eros aim his shaft at me, For though he loose ten thousand feathered darts He will never my least affection see. Cannot this swain to some maid other show The full pointed measure of his courtly style That she love’s treasure might hap’ly come to know And Antonia, from him, might have peace awhile? But his tune doth end… I may this chamber leave. From him… and his perfume… I’ll seek reprieve. Exeunt |
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