Keep Your Pantheon (and School) Read online

  (Pause.)

  PELARGON (Prompting): “See the Phoenicians’ mass . . .”

  STRABO: . . . Yes, yes, yes. “See the Phoenicians’ mass upon the mottled shore . . .”

  OFFSTAGE VOICE OF A GUARD: Members of the Tenth Legion, prepare to meet your doom!

  PHILIUS: Strabo . . .

  STRABO: Yes, good-bye, child.

  PHILIUS: Good-bye.

  STRABO: Perhaps we shall meet again. Beyond the river.

  PHILIUS: I hope so, but . . .

  STRABO: Yes. In that happy land . . .

  PHILIUS: Yes, but . . .

  STRABO: And look down to see the Critics writhe in Hell . . .

  PHILIUS: Yes, there’s just the one thing . . .

  STRABO: What, child? Speak.

  PHILIUS: You shouldn’t have given the old man a fake coin.

  TITUS (Offstage): Helmets off, greet those who, for their comrades’ sake, must suffer death!

  PHILIUS: Because, if you’d given him a real coin, perhaps our luck would not have changed.

  (Titus, the burly Guards and the Priest arrive, helmets off, and open the dungeon’s gates.)

  PRIEST: O Mighty Mars, prepare to receive unto your care, the mutilated bodies of these, your servants . . .

  PHILIUS: Strabo . . .

  GUARD: Are the condemned men prepared . . . ?

  PHILIUS: Give him a coin, Strabo. Give the old man a coin.

  STRABO: What?

  PHILIUS: You cheated him of his coin for the good luck charm. Don’t let that be on your soul, before . . . before . . .

  (Philius weeps.)

  STRABO: No, child, I would not die with that upon my soul. (To Titus) Give me a coin.

  TITUS: Bind them, and hood them, and draw them forth.

  STRABO: Give me a coin, for the love of God.

  TITUS: Why should I give you a coin?

  STRABO: Lend me a coin.

  TITUS: You’ll be dead in half an hour.

  STRABO: Then you can take it back . . .

  TITUS: No, that’s good economics . . . (Hands him a coin) Just for the half hour, mind . . .

  (Titus exits. Strabo hands the coin to Ramus.)

  STRABO: Ramus, Ramus, wake up.

  RAMUS: . . . what . . . ?

  STRABO: Here’s the coin I owe you.

  (Pause.)

  For the good luck charm? Ramus? For the Good Luck charm . . . ?

  (Beat.)

  RAMUS (Waking): . . . the coin for the good luck charm.

  (We hear a drum roll offstage.)

  GUARD: It’s time.

  (The Guards begin to bind the three.)

  PHILIUS: I’m sorry that I wouldn’t go to bed with you, Strabo.

  STRABO: That’s all right.

  PELARGON: I’m sorry that I did . . .

  PHILIUS: And I regret I never knew the joy. Of acting with you. Onstage.

  PELARGON: Imagine a toothache.

  GUARD: Make way for the condemned!

  (They engage in a group hug. The drum gives a final roll.)

  STRABO (To Philius): Good-bye, young lad, farewell, beauty.

  PHILIUS: Good-bye, Strabo.

  STRABO (To Pelargon): Good-bye, old comrade.

  PELARGON: I’m two years younger than you.

  STRABO: But I’ve aged better.

  PELARGON: Die with dignity.

  (Pause.)

  STRABO (Sighs): Come, friends, let’s show them how to make an exit . . .

  (They start toward the door.)

  TITUS (Reentering): Great news, great news, great news! (Beat) The troupe of the actor Gaius Paulus, favorite of Caesar, believed lost at sea, has been found alive!

  STRABO: The day lacked only that to be complete.

  TITUS: In honor of which, Caesar has remitted punishment for all crimes. Up to, and including that, decreed for the Tenth Legion!!! (Pause) You are all free to go!!!

  (Beat. Titus and the Guards exit the cell. Then the three actors start toward the door. Beat. Strabo turns back.)

  STRABO (To Pelargon, regarding Ramus): . . . Get the coin back.

  Scene Four

  Morning. The studio of Strabo. The Herald walks by outside the studio, in which we find Strabo and Philius.

  HERALD:

  Oh Rome arise and welcome that new day

  The gods have decreed for our disport

  Work, frolic, suffer, sin and pray

  In the bright courtyard of the somber court

  Arise, ye nobles, citizens and slaves

  Some to dig gardens, others to dig graves,

  For whilst the sun . . .

  STRABO (Shouting out): Oh, not today, not today, would you please? Work is at hand, love is in the air, and nobody in a good mood ever listened to philosophy.

  (A horn is heard, offstage.)

  HERALD (Going off):

  Hark to the Second Herald of the Morn

  The packet boat’s departure horn

  Make haste, make haste down to the quay

  If you are bound for Sicelay . . .

  STRABO: Oh, stuff a sock in it.

  HERALD: Tunics and togas. Bernstein Brand Tunics and Togas. Made by philosophers: “They just wear on and on.” Buy Bernstein Brand Tunics and Togas.

  (The Herald moves off.)

  STRABO (To Philius): Continue.

  PHILIUS (Declaiming): “. . . What is more precious than wine, you ask? What is more precious than wine . . . ?”

  (Pelargon enters with letters.)

  PELARGON (To Strabo): I’ve got the suitcases strapped up. (Gesturing offstage)

  STRABO: One moment. (To Philius) Say it simply, like it’s just occurred to you.

  PHILIUS (Nods): “What is more precious than wine . . . ? You ask me: I will tell you Cork.”

  STRABO: Pause, pause, Cork.

  PHILIUS: I’m here to learn. You bid me, whatever you bid me, Strabo, that I shall do.

  PELARGON: His father’s late with the tuition.

  STRABO: No matter. We’ll be paid in Sicily . . . Keep it up, lad, keep it up.

  PHILIUS: “What is more precious than wine? Mff mff. Cork . . . For without Cork, what good is wine? . . . Answer me that, good citizens of Sicily.”

  STRABO: That is it, my lad. Look them in the eye, and make them answer you that.

  PHILIUS: God bless you, Strabo . . .

  STRABO: And you, my little lamb.

  PHILIUS: You are a wise mentor.

  STRABO: Where, in this spotted life have I heard words as sweet? . . .

  PHILIUS: I look forward to our time in Sicily.

  STRABO: As do I, my amphora of honeyed mead.

  PHILIUS: Will you teach me to swim?

  STRABO: . . . You could call it that.

  (There is a knock at the door.)

  Ah—That would be the stevedores come for our baggage . . .

  PHILIUS: I’ll get it. “Haste then, young champion, to the Gate of Acharnia, and report what messenger, and with what intent, disturbs our disport . . .”

  (Philius exits.)

  STRABO (To Pelargon): Well, he’s willing, he’s young, he’s beautiful, and perhaps he’ll learn.

  PELARGON: And perhaps the sun, in search of novelty, will rise in the west.

  STRABO: How ill your cynicism becomes you.

  PELARGON: Really . . .

  STRABO: I need a drink before the ship.

  (They go off. Philius goes to the door.)

  PHILIUS (Opening the door): Welcome to the Studio of Strabo . . . What errand brings you to our door? . . .

  QUINTUS: I’ve come for the rent.

  PHILIUS: Aha.

  (Quintus enters with a letter, which he hands to Philius.)

  QUINTUS: And the postman handed me this letter for your master.

  PHILIUS: He and Pelargon have stepped out for a drink.

  QUINTUS: How may they drink, being perpetually impoverished?

  PHILIUS: They drink upon credit, sir. As we have been given an engagement.

  QUINT
US: An engagement?

  PHILIUS: Sir, as I have said.

  QUINTUS: Where?

  PHILIUS: In a half hour we sail. To open the Sicilian Cork Festival.

  QUINTUS: . . . You sail for Sicily . . .

  PHILIUS: . . . That’s where they’re holding it.

  (Ramus enters.)

  RAMUS: By the gods . . .

  QUINTUS (To Philius): You’re leaving . . . ?

  RAMUS: Might anyone gain merit by giving an old soldier some wine . . .

  (Strabo and Pelargon enter with a flagon.)

  PELARGON: I’ll share my wine with you, good soul. And then farewell.

  RAMUS: Where are you off to?

  STRABO: Sicily.

  QUINTUS: You’re going to Sicily?

  STRABO: Fear not for your rent, O, font of avarice, it shall be sent to you . . . Yes, the Sicilians impressed by our status as Auxiliary Members of the Tenth African Legion have engaged us to open the Sicilian Cork Festival.

  RAMUS: Everyone’s going to Sicily . . .

  (He drinks the wine.)

  STRABO: What do you mean?

  RAMUS: Down at the docks. The Troupe of Gaius Paulus. Has just been engaged. To open the Sicilian Cork Festival . . .

  STRABO: What? . . .

  PHILIUS (Producing the letter): Oh, Strabo. The landlord brought you a letter.

  PELARGON (Takes the letter and reads): “Please accept our regrets. The untimely resurrection to life of the Troupe of Gaius Paulus has forced us to rescind your offer of employment. Thank you for your interest in our festival.”

  (Pause.)

  STRABO: . . . They gave our spot to Paulus . . .

  (Pause.)

  QUINTUS: I . . .

  STRABO: No, please. Please, evict us, Landlord. To die hungry in the streets cursed by the gods, whom, it seems, we have irremediably offended.

  (Pause.)

  QUINTUS: Then you won’t be going to Sicily.

  STRABO (As to a child): It seems the Sicilians, mistaking Renown for Merit, have given our spot to Gaius Paulus . . .

  PHILIUS: . . . That hack.

  STRABO: Chide me, O Fortune. I remain your fool. Let years of effort in your service count for naught. Exalt mine enemies and grind, beneath your heel, your slave.

  QUINTUS: I grieve to hear of your reversal.

  STRABO: The loss is not mine alone, nay, but that of the denizens of Sicily, forever denied our performance.

  PELARGON: The gods grant them forbearance.

  STRABO: Had I but funds, O, ye Immortals. I would transport my troupe to Sicily, and challenge Paulus. By the gods, I would enter the pageant unpaid and unmask him before all the world, as a usurper.

  QUINTUS: What a spectacle that would bid fair to be.

  STRABO: As you so rightly note.

  QUINTUS: Had you but funds.

  STRABO: Had I but funds. But no. They praise the candle who need but ope’ the shutters to behold the sun . . .

  PHILIUS: Be strong, Strabo . . .

  (Pause.)

  QUINTUS: True worth is often overlooked.

  STRABO: The wonder is it’s ever remarked.

  QUINTUS: Take the lad, for instance.

  STRABO: . . . The lad . . .

  QUINTUS: Yes. Might I talk with you a moment.

  (Quintus draws Strabo outside for a moment, leaving Philius and Pelargon.)

  PHILIUS: I would have liked to go to Sicily . . .

  PELARGON: Yes.

  PHILIUS: Strabo said he was going to teach me to swim.

  PELARGON: No doubt.

  PHILIUS: Pelargon, do you feel that I have talent?

  PELARGON: Son, you have that which is far rarer than talent.

  PHILIUS: What is that?

  PELARGON: A cheerful outlook.

  PHILIUS: Yes, but I’ll have to go home now. And go into the myrrh business.

  PELARGON: There’ll always be a need for myrrh.

  PHILIUS: Indeed. But now I’ll never learn to act.

  PELARGON: Son, it’s a life of disappointment. Talent is overlooked, youth vanishes, and we mourn not only the caprices of fate, but our own willfully squandered opportunities. (Pause) But I’ve enjoyed our time together.

  PHILIUS: Thank you, Pelargon.

  (Strabo and Quintus reenter.)

  STRABO: Recall the stevedores! Our bags to the boat. For we take ship for Sicily . . .

  PHILIUS: For Sicily?

  STRABO: The Troupe of Strabo is to perform at the Sicilian Cork Festival!

  PELARGON: Where did the Troupe of Strabo get the money? . . .

  PHILIUS: For Sicily? Oh, Strabo, hurrah! Hurrah!

  PELARGON: Where did the Troupe of Strabo get the money? . . .

  PHILIUS: Oh, Strabo, how I admire you!

  STRABO: I hope, I sincerely hope, my acolyte, you, whose devotion has warmed, if not my nether parts, that higher portion of this earthly self.

  PHILIUS: Your heart?

  STRABO: Yes. You have warmed my heart, young Philius. And, lad, in Sicily . . .

  PHILIUS: How did we get the fare for Sicily? . . .

  STRABO: . . . The fare for Sicily . . .

  PHILIUS: Yes.

  STRABO (Brings Quintus forward): This man, young Philius, this patron of the arts, has, in his unexampled generosity, funded our passage.

  PELARGON: . . . Why?

  STRABO: Nor is this all. He undertakes, young Philius, to continue your tutelage.

  PHILIUS: My “tutelage”?

  STRABO: Yes.

  PHILIUS: . . . The landlord’s coming with us to Sicily? . . .

  STRABO: No, you’re not going to Sicily. You’re staying here.

  PHILIUS: We’re not going to Sicily?

  STRABO: No, lad. Beautiful lad. I must go to Sicily, while you remain.

  PHILIUS: Without you, Strabo . . . ?

  STRABO (Aside): Oh, break, my heart . . . (To Philius) Without me, yes, but this fine man . . . (Referring to Quintus) . . . is pledged to instruct you in the noblest of life’s mysteries.

  PHILIUS: The landlord’s going to teach me to act?

  STRABO: No, you’re going into real estate.

  RAMUS: In this market?

  END OF PLAY

  School

  PRODUCTION HISTORY

  School was produced in September 2009 at Atlantic Theater Company (Neil Pepe, Artistic Director; Jeffory Lawson, Managing Director) in New York City. It was performed as a double bill with Keep Your Pantheon. It was directed by Neil Pepe. Set design was by Takeshi Kata, costume design was by Ilona Somogyi and lighting design was by Christopher Akerlind. The production stage manager was Gregory T. Livoti. The cast was as follows:

  A John Pankow

  B Rod McLachlan

  Two people. An office.

  A: The posters say: “I Will Protect My Planet . . .”

  B: . . . Yes.

  A: . . . “By Recycling Paper.”

  (Pause.)

  B: Yes.

  A: The hall is full of them.

  B: Yes.

  A: There are hundreds of them.

  B: No, there are more than that.

  A: How many more?

  B: Each child did one. (Pause) That’s why they’re all different . . .

  A: . . . They’re all different.

  B: . . . to express his or her . . .

  A: “I Will Protect My Planet By Recycling Paper”?

  B: Yes.

  (Pause.)

  A: Doesn’t that use a lot of paper?

  B: The posters are made on recycled paper.

  A: The posters are made on recycled paper.

  B: Yes. That was the students’ idea.

  A: They decided to use recycled paper.

  B: For the poster?

  A: Yes.

  B: No. They always use recycled paper.

  A: . . . That’s the students’ idea.

  B: No. That’s school policy.

  A: Well, then, what was the students’ idea?

  B: The text.

&
nbsp; (Pause.)

  A: The text: “I Will Use Recycled Paper”?

  B: Yes.

  A: “I Will Save This Planet by Using Recycled Paper”?

  B: Yes.

  (Pause.)

  Using it. Do you see?

  A: No.

  B: Using recycled paper. As, as, as . . .

  A: . . . I . . .

  B: . . . as an, not an “irony,” but . . .

  A: . . . All right . . .

  B: As, they might say, as an “in joke.”

  A: . . . Yes . . .

  B: About the project itself.

  (Pause.)

  As a self-referential comment.

  (Pause.)

  A: Why didn’t they just save the paper?

  B: There was no need to save the paper.

  A: Why not?

  B: Because it was recycled.

  A: The “poster” paper was recycled.

  B: Your question is: “Can it be recycled again?”

  A: Yes. That’s my question.

  B: Of course.

  A: “Of course it can.”

  B: Yes.

  A: I . . . why “of course”?

  B: It was recycled before.

  A: But: I cannot conceive that it can be recycled indefinitely.

  (Pause.)

  Can it?

  (Pause.)

  Certainly, there must be some . . . “energy loss.”

  (Pause.)

  Mustn’t there?

  B: Well, that’s a question for the science teacher.

  A: . . . Yes . . .

  B: I would think, I would think nothing can be recycled indefinitely . . .

  A: . . . No.

  B: As there must be some “energy loss.”

  A: How do they recycle paper?