Moo Play

A Moo* Play on The Nun's Priest Tale by Geoffrey Chaucer
by Adrianne Wortzel

telnet to moo.hawaii.edu 9999

connect Joyce_Tick co2H2o

@go The Farmyard

a tidy farmyard adjacent to a great forest. It is early morning and the dawn light reveals myriad bits of stirring flora and fauna reflected in the shattered mirror of the dew. You see Jauntyclear, .Pert-a-lot, Chorus, Cold_Fox, Cato's_Guest, BathsWife's_Guest, Choicer_Guest.

Obvious exits: west to The Woods.

You teleport into The Farmyard...

Joyce_tick has arrived.

Usher escorts you to your seat.

@examine Jauntyclear

His comb is redder than coral, his bill black like jet; his legs and toes azure, his nails whiter than the lily, his body like burnished gold. He knows by instinct the daily movement of the heavens for when they move fifteen degrees he crows in a way that could never be bettered.

@examine Pert-a-lot

a dazzling beauty, poised and articulate, clearly Jauntyclear's favorite wife and sister.

Chorus rises up from sleep.

Cold-Fox goes west.

Chorus says,

"Light creepes over the lande

and my ears hear the beautiful crowing of

Jauntyclear, whose vois is merier than the mery orgon

@examine Chorus

other wives and sisters of Jauntyclear. Their secondary status to Pert-a-lot gives them less attention but much more freedom.

Jauntyclear mutters and groans in his sleep.

Pert-a-lot says,

"O herte dear, What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere?"

Macrobeus'_Guest teleports in.

Jauntyclear says,

"Madame, me mette I was in swich meschief

that yet myn herte is sore afright.

I saugh a best,"

Cold_Fox is thinking about you in the The Woods.

E pages, "they mean me!"

page Cold_Fox with "aren't you the sly one?"

Jauntyclear says,

Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad arest

Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed.

This caused me my gronyng, doutelees."

Cold_Fox has received your message...

Knight's_Guest teleports in.

Cold_Fox is thinking about you in the The Woods.

E pages, "dont get smarmy with me, Im not in the mood".

Pert-a-lot exclaims,

"Allas, for, by that God above,

Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love!

I kan nat love a coward, by my feith!

How dorste ye seyn, for shame, unto youre love

That any thyng myghte make yow aferd?

Have ye no mannes herte, and han a berd?

Catoun Seyde he nat thus, 'Ne do no fors of dremes'?

For Goddes love,

A day or two ye shul have digestyves

Of wormes, er ye take youre laxatyves

Be myrie, housbonde,

Dredeth no dreem"

Cato's_Guest says, "Are they chickens?"

BathsWife's_Guest says, "I dunno, but chickens do have complicated digestive systems?"

Cato's_Guest says, "well, he does seem rather henpecked."

Jauntyclear says,

"Madame, Catoun hath of wysdom swich a greet renoun,

Though that he bad no dremes for to drede,

men may in olde bookes rede

Of many a man moore of auctorite

Than evere Caton was, so moot I thee,

That dremes been significaciouns

As wel of joye as of tribulaciouns"

Choicer_Guest says, "cluck, cluck".

Knight's_Guest teleports out.

Jauntyclear says,

"Andromacha, Ectores wyf,

That day that Ector sholde lese his lyf,

She dremed on the same nyght biforn

How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn,

If thilke day he wente into bataille.

She warned hym, but it myghte nat availle;

He wente for to fighte natheles,

But he was slayn anon of Achilles.

Macrobeus'_Guest says, "more like fowls at play".

Joyce_tick says, "I suppose that's pun intended?""

Bath'sWife_Guest slathers kisses on Macrobeus'_Guest.

I ne telle of laxatyves no stoor,

For they been venymes, I woot it weel;

I hem diffye, I love hem never a deel!"

Cold-Fox preens and swells with wonder at his own sly iniquitee,

and marvels at his clever plan to brast into the yerd, and wait his tyme on Jauntyclear to falle.

go west

The Woods

Where all kinds of leaves, flowers, fruits, twigs and dead animals fall on the forest floor to facilitate the Cycle of Nutrition and Decay. You see Cold_Fox here.

Cold_Fox urges you to leave so he can concentrate on remembering his lines.

go east

The Farmyard

Joyce_tick hands Macrobeus'_Guest a towel.

Cold-Fox [to Jauntyclear]:

"Gentil sire, Ye have as myrie a stevene

As any aungel hath that is in hevene.

Therwith ye han in musyk moore feelynge

Than hadde Boece, or any that kan synge."

Knight's_Guest teleports in.

Jauntyclear is ravysshed with his flaterie, his wynges begins to bete, Strecchynge his nekke, and heeld his eyen cloos, he gan to crowe aloude.

Cold-Fox grabs by the gargat Jauntyclear, and feels west to The Woods with his capture.

Cato's_Guest says, "so much for the kindness of strangers."

[in the woods] you hear scuffling.

Chorus hangs its head in sorrow.

Cato's_Guest says, "next time I visit here I'll have to learn the language."

Cato's_Guest teleports out.

The Usher comes to take Cato's_Guest away.

Chorus exclaims,

"O woful hennes, right so criden ye

As whan that Nero brende the citee

Of Rome cryden senatoures wyves

For that hir husbondes losten alle hir lyves--"

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*A Moo is a virtual community where people come to perform, construct texts and objects, exchange information, play out their fantasies, have meetings and discourse, all in a text-based programming environment. There is a clear and cogent irony in taking familiar stories, plays and fables and putting them in moo context.