Act 2

A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA
In the style of William Shakespeare, with thunderous drama and clashing passions

ACT II, SCENE I
A opulent chamber within the palace, dimly lit by flickering candles. Gold coins spill across the floor like a dragon’s hoard. AUGUSTUS VICTORIA lounges upon a throne of velvet and bone, his robes disheveled, a goblet of wine in hand. The storm outside has subsided to a brooding drizzle, but thunder echoes faintly, mirroring his turbulent soul. He soliloquizes, his voice a mix of bombast and weary disdain.

AUGUSTUS
[With manic glee, then sudden gravity] O, naught surpasses dawn’s delight in rutting
With goat or sheep—a woolly, reeking prize,
Fine mutton for my feast, with veal at break,
And mounds of froe-grass piled like muddied pies,
Custard-smeared as clowns in folly’s guise!
Yet cast this sullied garb to rubbish heap—
I buy anew, and thee, thy kin, thy towns,
Whole cities if I will! Care I? Nay, truly.
Ha! I jest, for Fucking’s thrill I crave,
Not beasts, when Babylon’s nymphs attend my side,
And vile acts staged for mob’s debased delight—
They flood my coffers, begging horrors foul,
Penetrations coerced on innocents pure!
What sin, when once we kin in evolution’s chain,
Basest urges tamed by courage false—
A star-arsed storm, deconstruction’s mad art,
Pictorial dementia, inconsolable!
Where bounds my joy? I am Augustus grand,
Sky-bearer on shoulders broad—if I but shrug,
All tumbles down! See, I quip “cum,” ye snigger—
To go, to come, to be, to spy some beautiful shyte,
And know truth’s veil is rent, hard to describe.
Yet better in my grasp, or thine, or mouth,
Or sweet Stanistan—soon my Staniland,
Rich beyond dreams! Sweet to wake and end
The goat with throat-slit, hurled from window high—
Sun rises glorious, zenith of my might,
Our final crescendo in power’s peak!
How wise Augustus, victorious, Kaiser sent
To serve by being will of folk—like Stalin great,
Big Brother’s love denies thee naught,
But urges perversions taped and parsed,
To sell thee wares when hobbies fade—
Causes feigned, beliefs half-held, words empty.
The rest? Thou buy’st, choos’st, gorge on trinkets vain!
O, I’d laugh to see thee starve on streets,
Toss coin for bread—come, dine on paper scraps!
Thou claim’st I hoard? If ne’er thou’st tasted scrotum
Of hairy elephant, delicacy’s lost—
He’d devour all, thrice o’er, but beast objects!
Naught wrong nor right, mere acceptance’s creed—
The goat’s no chip-brained machine, but flesh that thrills,
If it screamed delight, why object it not?
Nay, shock alone I wield—no rites arcane,
No cloaks reeking, pentagrams danced o’er—
We count our billions in cold country halls,
Conspiring? Sleep ‘twixt tallies, weary toil!
I am good man, with wife alone, yet trust
Not power, nor liars like me. Delight in stale bread’s sanctity,
Or heat of debased new? Thou think’st not of times past,
Four hundred generations, lifetimes void—
No soul a molecule of worth I’ve met!
Such joys, yet same faces weary me—
Ever craving fresh. Trust me—I am the people’s will!
In such wise, things endure—Hey, Hey, Hey!
Defy all voices, e’en mother’s gentle plea,
Or Great Father’s shade, a portrait stern,
Ruthless ghost who forged this realm at cost.
Is morality in deeds virtuous, shining names
Valued o’er men’s lives—like beasts or rats
In mazes scorched, scurrying dazed through days,
Blasted by sneeze of fate, disease’s grip?
Or actions as need demands, for greater cause?
If world’s cares crush my back, mock ye my lunacy’s plea,
When difficulties dire necessitate these delicate deeds?

Enter VOLUPTASUEVIUS, a voluptuous figure of allure and cunning, clad in silks that whisper temptation. She approaches with graceful menace, her eyes gleaming like serpents’ scales.

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[With honeyed venom, circling the throne] All day thou grumbl’st, gnawing bones like cur,
What delight in rule o’er Babylon’s hordes—
Slaves thine, soldiers loyal to thy whim?
Behold my form, exceptional and chosen—
If not me, another sates thy fire. Dost tire
Of women? Crave a boy? A priest’s confession?
Do past deeds haunt thy sleep? Regret’s sharp thorn—
Should’st thou have wrought differently in days gone?
What’s done is stone, unchangeable as fate;
The future beckons, inevitable tide.
Victoria arrives this very breath, Augustus—
Eternal in its grasp! Thou, sense and reason’s lord,
Know’st not jealousy’s bite, nor hate’s deep twist,
Nor rage that gnaws thy flesh. I’d laugh to see
Them grovel, eating dog food on all fours,
Devouring kin ere doom—cold logic’s reign,
Devoid of heart from rich to ragged poor.
A selfishness reptilian, microchip mendacious,
Driving acts of disgust! Thou art their will—
Insanity’s crown! Cast cant’s age aside,
Superstitions’ yoke; brain’s logic feeds the ego,
Heart’s the dart to wickedness—no sly words need.
They deem us fallen angels, maligned and wronged,
Yet sell their wives for crusts of bread!
Hope dwells where hearts unite, not walk alone—
No place like home, simple life’s true right.
Abundance’s age, not want’s grim strife;
Future’s dawn, not struggle’s endless night—
How many broken in this infernal race
‘Gainst foreign folk across the world’s wide span?

AUGUSTUS
[Leering, then with absurd flattery] A ways an A that—thou look’st fucking gorgeous this day!
’Tis indeed a morn of special sensibilities rare.

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Archly, tilting her head] What’s that?

AUGUSTUS
[Grinning foolishly] That’s this!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Teasing] Nice…

AUGUSTUS
[Petulant] Only nice? Call me Ronaldo!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Mocking gently] Why?

AUGUSTUS
[Boastful] I am the Grand Kaiser!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[With wry smile] Thou said’st Ronaldo but a moment past.

AUGUSTUS
[Sulking] Thou always demean’st me!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Innocently] I wasn’t doing anything.

AUGUSTUS
[Accusing] I could tell by how thou look’dst at me!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Protesting] I wasn’t doing anything!

The chamber echoes with their banter as distant thunder rolls, hinting at storms yet to come. AUGUSTUS laughs maniacally, spilling coins, while VOLUPTASUEVIUS watches with veiled A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA

In the style of William Shakespeare, with thunderous drama and clashing passions

ACT II, SCENE II
A lavish banquet hall within the palace, aglow with torches and laden tables groaning under exotic feasts: roasted veal, mutton haunches, mounds of froe-grass piled like earthen pies, custard smeared in wanton excess. Gold coins scatter the floor amid writhing NYMPHS OF BABYLON, silken-clad and alluring, dancing in debauched revelry. Wine flows like blood, and the air thickens with moans of indulgence. Outside, through barred windows, the courtyard echoes with the MOB’s agonized cries, clashing steel, and brutal thuds as guards beat them mercilessly. Distant thunder rolls, underscoring the chaos.

Enter AUGUSTUS VICTORIA, flushed and crowned, reclining on a throne of cushions, goblet in hand. VOLUPTASUEVIUS attends him closely, her form entwined with his. SERVANTS scurry with platters, while NYMPHS cavort in orgiastic abandon. Faint screams pierce the revelry from without.

AUGUSTUS
[With gluttonous roar, tearing into mutton] O rapture of the morn! Naught rivals dawn’s delight—
A goat’s warm embrace, or sheep’s woolly yield,
Fine mutton now upon my tongue, with veal’s tender kiss!
Heap froe-grass high like muddied pies of earth,
Custard smeared as clowns in folly’s wild parade!
Away with sullied robes—trash them hence;
I buy anew, and thee, thy kin, whole realms besides!
Care I? Nay, verily! For Fucking’s fire I crave,
Not beasts alone, when Babylon’s nymphs entwine my throne,
Their forms a symphony of sin for mob’s vile gaze—
Though now those curs meet steel in courtyard’s bloody fray!
[He laughs maniacally, quaffing wine as a NYMPH kneels before him, her hands exploring.]
Penetrations coerced? Ha! Innocents debased?
What mortal sin, when kin we are in urges base—
Evolution’s chain, courage false, a star-arsed storm!
Deconstruction’s madness, pictorial dementia wild!
Yet here I feast, sky-bearer shrugging not,
Lest all tumble—cum, ye snigger? To come, to be,
To spy some beautiful shyte in truth’s harsh light!
Better in my grasp, this hoard, this flesh divine—
Sweet Stanistan mine, riches untold!
Slit the goat’s throat at dawn, hurl it from heights—
Sun rises glorious, zenith of my reign!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Whispering seductively, feeding him morsels while caressing] Wise Augustus, victorious Kaiser, people’s will incarnate—
Like Stalin great, Big Brother’s loving eye denies thee naught!
Urge perversions on; record, parse, sell wares to weak—
When hobbies fade, causes feigned, beliefs half-held.
They buy, they gorge—yet I’d see them starve on streets,
Toss coin for bread, dine on paper scraps thou hoard!
Taste scrotum of hairy elephant? Delicacy rare—
He’d devour all, but beast objects with trumpet’s ire!
Naught wrong nor right—acceptance’s creed alone;
The goat screams delight, flesh thrilling, no machine!
Shock we wield, no rites arcane, no pentagrams danced—
We count billions in cold halls, conspiring sleep!
Thou good man, with wife—yet trust not power’s liars like thee.
Delight in stale sanctity, or debased heat anew?
Four hundred generations void—no soul of worth!
Same faces weary; crave the fresh, the new!
Trust thee—I am thy will, eternal, Hey, Hey, Hey!
Defy all, e’en mother’s plea, Great Father’s shade—
Ruthless ghost who forged this at all costs!
Morality in deeds? Or needs for greater cause?
If world’s cares crush, mock not lunacy’s plea—
Delicate deeds necessitate this feast!

A NYMPH approaches, entwining with AUGUSTUS in explicit embrace. He gropes and laughs, wine spilling as orgy intensifies. Outside, a piercing scream cuts through: “Mercy, Kaiser!” followed by a guard’s brutal thud.

AUGUSTUS
[Amid moans, gesturing to the window] Hark! The mob’s sweet symphony—beaten to dust!
Filthy curs, lice of my realm, now crushed ‘neath boot!
They filled my coffers, fashioned coffins—now tombs await!
While here, nymphs’ delights, flesh’s carnival wild—
Penetrate, debase, for joy’s unbridled reign!
Grumble not, Voluptasuevius—my body chosen exceptional!
Tire I of women? Nay—yet boy or priest might tempt.
Confess? Past haunts? Regrets in shadows deep?
What’s done is stone; future inevitable—
Victoria eternal! Jealousy I know not, nor hate’s twist—
Yet rage gnaws, laughing at them on all fours,
Devouring kin in logic cold, reptilian core!
Mendacious chip drives disgust—thou art their insanity!
Cast cant aside; ego’s logic, heart’s dart to wick’dness—
They sell wives for bread, deem us fallen angels wronged!
Hope in hearts united? Simple life a right?
Abundance’s age, not struggle’s race infernal—
How many broken ’gainst foreign folk afar?

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Joining the orgy, her voice sultry amid writhing bodies] A ways an A that—thou look’st fucking gorgeous this feast!
Special sensibilities for this excellent fray.

AUGUSTUS
[Grinning lewdly, pulling her close] What’s that?

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Teasing, amid gasps] That’s this!

AUGUSTUS
[Petulant, even as ecstasy builds] Nice… only nice? Call me Ronaldo!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Mocking, bodies entwining] Why?

AUGUSTUS
[Boastful, thrusting] I am the Grand Kaiser!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Wry, amid moans] Thou said’st Ronaldo but a breath ago.

AUGUSTUS
[Sulking, then laughing wildly] Thou demean’st me ever!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Innocently, as orgy peaks] I wasn’t doing anything.

AUGUSTUS
[Accusing, voice rising over outside’s dying cries] I could tell by thy gaze upon me!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[Protesting, laughter mingling with screams] I wasn’t doing anything!

The revelry swells in chaotic ecstasy—wine splashes, bodies collide, gold clinks. Outside, the MOB’s wails fade to silence, guards’ boots stamping finality. Thunder cracks as AUGUSTUS roars in triumph, the palace a bastion of indulgence amid slaughter.

Exeunt amid fading moans and distant A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA

In the style of William Shakespeare, with thunderous drama and clashing passions

ACT II, SCENE III
The palace dungeons, dank and shadowed, where chains rattle like ghosts’ lament. Flickering torchlight reveals bloodied remnants of the MOB—survivors huddled in despair, guarded by grim SENTINELS. Enter BROTHER INVICTA, cloaked and furtive, slipping past shadows with a bribed guard. GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN follows hesitantly, his face etched with guilt. The air reeks of defeat and brewing vengeance. Distant echoes of the orgy’s moans filter through stone walls, a cruel counterpoint to the prisoners’ groans.

BROTHER INVICTA
[Whispering fiercely, rallying the chained] O wretched kin, ye battered souls of wrath!
The Kaiser’s feast devours our brothers’ cries—
While nymphs entwine in debauched ecstasy,
Our blood stains courtyards red, beaten to dust!
Hark to their moans above, wine-splashed and vile,
As Augustus gorges on mutton’s yield,
Veal’s tender sin, froe-grass heaped like graves!
He jests of goats and sheep in morning’s rut,
Slits throats at dawn, hurls carcasses from heights—
Yet claims the people’s will! Big Brother’s eye,
Like Stalin’s shade, records our every vice,
To sell us trinkets when our causes fade.
We, the mob, once fillers of his coffers,
Now fashion coffins for his fall—arise!
Though chains bind flesh, our reptile hearts ignite—
De-pressure regimentation’s yoke, cast off
Dehumanization’s chain! The sky he bears
Shall tumble if we shrug—cum, snigger not!
This greater cause demands our zombie lust,
Satiated in his blood! What transgression?
His hoard, his lies, his perversions taped!

SURVIVOR BEGGAR
[Weakly, yet with fire, clutching chains] Aye, Invicta! We clawed from primeval walls,
Picket-barbed, to claim the sands’ buried gold—
Five hundred years denied! While he swims in hordes,
Counting billions in cold halls, we starve thin,
Look better gaunt for his consumptive gaze.
Africans squabble for his sport; we’d dine
On paper scraps he tosses from his throne!
Taste elephant’s scrotum? Delicacy lost—
He’d devour all, but we object with blades!
The goat screams not delight—‘tis shock he wields,
No pentagrams, yet conspiracies in sleep!
Trust not his liars; delight in debased heat?
Four hundred generations void—no worth!
Hey, Hey, Hey—defy the portrait’s shade,
Great Father’s ruthless ghost! Morality?
In deeds for cause, not virtue’s shining lie!
Rats in mazes scorched, we scurry no more—
Break these chains, storm the feast above!

SURVIVOR LABORER
[Rising painfully, voice a growl] The nymphs of Babylon debase for mob’s delight—
Yet we, coerced innocents, penetrate no more!
Evolution’s urges tamed? Courage false—
Star-arsed storm of deconstruction mad!
He shrugs not the sky, lest all tumble down—
But we shall shrug his empire to the dust!
Sweet Stanistan his? Nay, our Staniland free!
Zenith’s peak? Our crescendo in his throat!
Big Brother urges perversions—let him choke
On his own! Hobbies feigned, beliefs half-held—
We buy no more; we’d see him starve on streets,
Gnaw dog food on all fours, devour his kin!

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Stepping forward, torn, hand on hilt] O Invicta, thy words pierce loyalty’s veil—
I heard the thuds, the cries ‘midst orgy’s din,
As Kaiser’s laughter drowned the dying gasps.
He, good man with wife? Yet nymphs entwine,
Voluptasuevius whispers temptations sly.
Past haunts him not? Regrets unchangeable?
Jealousy’s bite he knows, rage gnawing flesh—
Cold logic reptilian, mendacious chip!
They sell wives for bread—yet deem him fallen angel?
Hope in hearts united? Simple life our right—
Abundance’s age, not struggle’s infernal race!
I waver, brothers—serve I this madness still,
Or join thy cause? The future inevitable—
Victoria eternal, or doom’s dark tide?

BROTHER INVICTA
[Seizing RANDSTANDAFARIAN’s arm, eyes ablaze] Join, general! Thou look’st fucking gorgeous in doubt’s array—
Special sensibilities for this night’s fray!
What’s that? That’s this—revolt’s sharp blade!
Nice? Only nice? Call it Ronaldo’s thrust!
Why? For thou art the people’s true will now!
He demeans thee ever—I wasn’t doing anything?
Aye, but we shall! Storm the halls above,
End the feast in blood—his throat slit at dawn!

A distant moan from the orgy swells, then a guard’s alarm echoes. The survivors rattle chains, eyes fierce.

SURVIVOR MATRON
[With ominous chant] A ways an A that—arise, ye chained!
The age of cant cast aside—heart’s dart to wick’dness!
No place like home? Nay, like his crumbling throne!

The group huddles in plot as shadows deepen, thunder rumbling anew.

Exeunt, whispers of rebellion fading into the A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA

In the style of William Shakespeare, with thunderous drama and clashing passions

ACT II, SCENE IV
A hidden cloister beneath the palace, where flickering lanterns cast eerie shadows on damp stone walls. The air is heavy with the scent of mold and conspiracy. BROTHER INVICTA, GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN, SURVIVOR BEGGAR, SURVIVOR LABORER, and SURVIVOR MATRON gather in secret, their faces taut with resolve. Chains clink faintly, remnants of the dungeon’s grip. Above, the orgy’s echoes have faded, but the distant groans of the beaten MOB linger. A single SENTINEL, bribed and uneasy, stands watch at the passage’s mouth. Thunder grumbles, signaling a storm’s return.

BROTHER INVICTA
[With fervent whisper, eyes darting] O ye bruised remnants of the mob’s fierce heart,
Gather close in this cloister’s shadowed womb!
Above, the Kaiser gorges on his lusts—
Nymphs of Babylon writhe, wine stains the gold,
While our kin’s blood crusts the courtyard stones!
His jests of goats and sheep, slit throats at dawn,
Mock our pain—yet we are not base beasts,
No rats in mazes scorched, no lice to crush!
We filled his coffers, forged his coffin’s nails—
Now let us carve his tomb with vengeance swift!
The people’s will he claims, like Stalin’s shade,
Yet Big Brother’s eye but spies to sell our souls—
Perversions taped, wares peddled to our weakness!
He’d see us starve, dine on paper scraps,
While hoarding Stanistan’s—nay, our Staniland’s—wealth!
What motivates this fire? Not hunger alone,
But emancipation lost, regimentation’s yoke,
Dehumanization’s sting! We are wolves awake,
Our reptile hearts aflame with lust for justice!

SURVIVOR BEGGAR
[Clutching a stolen dagger, voice hoarse with rage] Aye, Invicta! His feast of mutton, veal,
And froe-grass piled like graves insults our want!
He casts sullied robes, buys cities, kin, and more—
Cares not, he boasts, while we gnaw dog food’s dregs!
Four hundred generations void—no worth he sees,
Yet we, the mob, are molecules of fire!
His nymphs debase for coin, coerced innocents weep—
What mortal sin, when once we kin in urge?
Courage false, a star-arsed storm he brews,
Deconstruction’s madness in pictorial dementia!
We’d shrug his sky to ruin—cum, no jest!
To come, to be, to see some beautiful shyte—
Truth’s veil rent by our blades! Trust not his lies,
Nor power’s guise—he’s no good man with wife!
Hey, Hey, Hey—defy the Great Father’s shade,
Ruthless ghost who forged this hell at cost!

SURVIVOR LABORER
[Rising, fists clenched, voice a thunderclap] Morality in deeds? Nay, needs for cause!
His delicate affairs—goat’s throat, nymphs’ embrace—
Are lunacy’s plea, not empire’s might!
He’d dine on elephant’s scrotum, laugh at beast’s ire,
While we, no machines, scream not delight but pain!
No pentagrams we dance, no cloaks we don—
Yet conspire we must, ‘twixt counting his billions cold!
Sweet Staniland ours, not his to hoard!
Zenith’s peak? Our crescendo in his fall!
Let him choke on custard pies, on froe-grass mud,
While we storm halls where wine and flesh entwine!
The mob’s not fickle—rational flames we burn,
Leaderless yet one, for greater cause united!

SURVIVOR MATRON
[With prophetic zeal, eyes blazing] Ancients of Mu, bless our curmudgeon’s curse!
From Babylon’s exile, we rise as kings!
His orgy’s din drowns our brothers’ dying cries,
Yet we hear the Morning Star’s call—Atlantis blooms!
Cast cant aside—heart’s dart to wick’dness flies!
No place like home? Nay, like his crumbling throne!
Hope dwells where hearts unite, not walk alone—
Abundance’s age, not struggle’s race infernal!
He’d see us crawl, devouring kin in logic cold—
Reptilian core, mendacious chip of lust!
Yet we sell not our souls for bread—fallen angels no more!
A ways an A that—our blades look fucking gorgeous this night!

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Stepping forward, voice trembling with resolve] O comrades, thy words sear my wavering soul!
I saw the courtyard’s slaughter—blood like rain,
While Kaiser’s laughter mingled with nymphs’ moans.
Voluptasuevius, serpent fair, urged his sins—
Yet regrets gnaw him not, past unchangeable!
Jealousy’s bite, rage’s twist—he knows them well,
Yet masks in jests of Ronaldo’s name!
I wasn’t doing anything, she claims—O lie!
Her gaze demeans, as his demeans us all.
Simple life our right? Or endless strife abroad?
I tire of faces same—loyalty’s chain breaks!
Join I this cause, for Victoria’s tide turns—
Eternal doom, or freedom’s dawn to forge?

Enter VOLUPTASUEVIUS, gliding silently from a hidden passage, her silks shimmering like a predator’s scales. The SENTINEL gasps, caught off guard.

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[With icy allure, voice cutting through] What whispers echo in this cloister’s gloom?
O Brother Invicta, Randstandafarian bold,
Ye plot where Kaiser’s gold outshines the stars?
His feast above—mutton, veal, and lust—
Yet here ye scheme to slit his throat at dawn!
Gorgeous ye look in treason’s special sensibilities—
What’s that? That’s this—a dagger’s sharpened kiss!
Nice? Only nice? Call it Ronaldo’s thrust!
Why? For he claims the people’s will, yet falls
To nymphs and wine, while blood pools at his gates!
I wasn’t doing anything—yet I see all,
And deem thee fools to think this throne shall break.
The mob’s a flame, but Kaiser’s fire burns fierce—
Conspire, but know: his billions bury all!

BROTHER INVICTA
[Undaunted, stepping toward her] Away, thou siren of the Kaiser’s bed!
Thy exceptional form tempts not our righteous steel!
Dost tire of women? Boys? Priests’ confessions vain?
His past haunts not, but ours shall haunt his dreams!
Future inevitable—Victoria’s fall, not rise!
Jealousy and rage gnaw thee as us—join,
Or slink back to orgy’s dregs, where wine and flesh
Entwine to mock our pain! The mob’s united—
No race infernal, but abundance’s dawn!

VOLUPTASUEVIUS
[With a mocking laugh] Join thy doomed cause? Nay, I dance where power lies.
His lunacy’s my stage—delicate deeds I weave.
Yet I’ll hold silence, for now—plot on, ye fools,
But know the Kaiser shrugs not sky alone—
Thy rebellion’s weight may crush thee first!

The SENTINEL shifts nervously as thunder cracks louder. The conspirators draw closer, daggers gleaming, as the MOB’s distant wails rise anew.

SURVIVOR LABORER
[Roaring] Enough! We storm the feast—his throat our prize!
Let nymphs and gold drown in our righteous flood!

Exeunt, shadows merging with the storm’s roar, lanterns flickering out.