Tales of the Lost Formicans by Constance Congdon

Author:Constance Congdon [Congdon, Constance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780881450910
Amazon: 088145091X
Publisher: Broadway Play Pub
Published: 1990-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

ACT TWO

Casanova is wearing a cloak with a hood, so we can’t see him that well. He is lying with his head in Uta’s lap—his groin hurts.

CASANOVA (In pain): Uhhhhhn. Uhhhhhhn.

UTA: All those bumps and holes on the way. France—no one works on the roads. No, they’re too busy getting dressed up.

CASANOVA: I’ll be all right.

UTA: Well, I got to piss this time.

CASANOVA: Don’t be crass, please. I’m starved for gentility—for civilization.

UTA: What’s your piss? Poetry? I’ve seen it—it’s usually bloody—not gentle at all.

Just don’t wander off and get lost.

(She exits. Suddenly, there’s a lot of light and Casanova sees the garden Young Casanova rented for Caterina. Caterina, age fourteen and dressed well, enters. After a beat, Young Casanova enters. This time, Caterina speaks to Casanova)

CATERINA: You rented this garden just for me?

CASANOVA AND YOUNG CASANOVA: Yes.

CATERINA: No one will come?

CASANOVA AND YOUNG CASANOVA: No.

CATERINA: I don’t know what to do.

CASANOVA AND YOUNG CASANOVA: Enjoy yourself.

YOUNG CASANOVA: I’ll leave for a little while. I won’t go far—just outside.

(Young Casanova exits. Casanova sits down to watch. Caterina begins to breathe—just as she did in the first memory; but, instead of running, she turns to Casanova and leaps on him, a succubus)

CATERINA (Straddling him, until she’s sitting on his groin): How big is it? Bigger than a sausage? And what size sausage? Is it big enough to sing to? Can I sing it a little song? Does it stick straight up? Is the foreskin purple or pink? Will it like me? Will its little eye like what it sees? Can I see it? Can I see its little helmet head? Its little doge hat? Will it come out for me? Will-ums get hard for little me? Come, come, let me have it. Rubba-rubba-rubba-rubba! COME, COME, COME, COME!

CASANOVA (Fear): AHHHHHHHHHHH—

(Blackout. Casanova is still screaming when the lights come up. He is in the same position—lying there, but Caterina has been replaced with Therese, her wraith-self, demurely straddling him, working on some lace-making)

—AHHHHHHHHH! Therese?

THERESE: Venetian 60-point. Very difficult to do.

CASANOVA: Get off me!!!

(She gets off and he feels the pain in his groin)

What are you doing? You look terrible.

THERESE: I’m dead.

CASANOVA: What? Utaaaaaaa!!

Go away, spirit! Begone!

Help! Jesus!

Gooooo!

THERESE: Love to.

Can’t.

Destiny.

CASANOVA: I’ve had too much laudanum. (Closes his eyes)

THERESE: Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Open.

(He opens his eyes—she’s still there)

CASANOVA: No!

THERESE: Yes.

CASANOVA: Get away! My dreams are my own! My life is my own!

THERESE: Fine. Then, live it.

(Blackout. Sound of snoring—it fills the theatre. Dim lights up on Casanova lying on a prison floor, sleeping. He’s the one who is snoring. Jailer enters)

JAILER: Who’s there?

CASANOVA: What? Where am I?

JAILER: They must’ve locked you up over the weekend. Well, stand up.

CASANOVA: I feel surprisingly good all of a sudden. I feel wonderful.

JAILER: It’ll pass. Come on.

(Jailer leads Casanova on a route to his sentencing. Therese enters and follows them, unnoticed, giving a tour of the Ducal Palace as she walks. Several tourists surround Casanova as he walks)

THERESE: Passing from the Piombi, prison, so-called for being situated under the lead—“piombo”—roof of the

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