ACT 1, SCENE 2
Anicetus’ home
Myron
Heed O my confidant; a few nights heretofore, afore I could chug the ale from my acorn cup; nestled the best artwork of nirvana. I rested my eyes from the madding throng and connected my heart to her eyes that seemed troubled from the hysteria of the niterie.
Her ruby lips were my obsession at current; puckered oft but bit recurrently, she was in peril.
She hang about the doorway gawking at the lintel so she would correspond a bird in a cage. I felt as though her comfort had been smothered. She wondered about in her chiton that brought out her femininity.
The hasty inebriates tore her forbearance and cast her away with her belongings. She ne’er got a room to while the dusk away. I fret with my desire to lay eyes on thee afresh or my gaiety of having my heart aglow.
Agatha
Absolve me from thee fables and apprise me Myron; how tho’ your wrecked nose will tap blood without letup so you can talk in shortened breath?
Myron
Are you of hasted feet?
AGATHA
I was racing towards the port, the ships dock at the shore today from Sicily, they voyage back food; I am dutied to unlade. Only if I hadn’t bumped into your mother that I wouldn’t be here.
MYRON
Ha-ha! My mother! Who else that can adorn a cat with a lion’s tag? A mild scrape would dispatch her to Olympus to invoke Hygeia. Point out, that who is impervious to bleeding so he showeth us his tanned hide.
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