later date. After reading, he raises his eyes from the paper.)
THE
POPE
What
is the meaning of this? Cardinals?(Men in red flutter in.)
THE POPE (Continued)
Cardinals,
what is this missive? Who gave it me?
THE
CARDINALS
(Twittering)’Twas not we! ’Twas not we!
THE
POPE
Sons
whom I call my nephews?(The SONS mosey along.)
THE
SONS
Shhh,
Pops.
THE
POPE
I
am too old to care. Did one of ye---one
of ye ingrates---write this?
THE
SONS
Never!
Where’s a mirror?
THE
POPE
My fool?(A FOOL pops out of a butter churn.)
THE
FOOL
Pop
goes the jester!
THE
POPE
Wrotest
thou this?
THE
FOOL
Now,
Popey-pie . . . you know I don’t write.
But if you’ll grumble a bit less and read a bit more, you’ll see ’tis
from a lady from the future; and she wants you to try her sons.
THE
POPE
I’ve
sons enough---
THE SONS
Nephews, you mean.
THE
FOOL
Try
as in court of law, sir Popey-Wopey, good sir.
THE
POPE
I
see.(He bites at an odd root.)
THE POPE (Continued)
Sith
I am old, I’ll to it.(THE FOOL juggles, the SONS hide, the CARDINALS sing.)
END OF PART XI.
