My beard doth grow unruly: A short Shakespeareanesque play

My beard doth grow unruly: 

A short Shakespeareanesque play

By Paul Rheaume

The setting: A small hamlet outside of the providence of Mendesvia. The wind is blowing cold and hard. Wolves can be heard howling in the distance. A large, bearded man is seen sitting by the fire, sobbing.

“My beard doth grow unruly,
It has gotten to the state
When I wake up in the morning
I am laughed at by my mate.”

“The bent hairs that adorn my chin
are quite the sight to see
as if some drunken tyrant had
usurped the beardary.”

“My beard doth grow unruly
It grows out on the sides
Much faster than I know it should
My chin it always hides.”

“The itching hath grown mighty
My skin hath turned to red.
What possessed me to grow such a thing
here, upon my head?”

“My beard doth grow unruly
my mind begins to rave
It hath crossed my itchy, addled mind
that it may be time to shave.”

(Suddenly light streams in from above and through all of the windows in the cottage. Paul is suddenly overcome by the spectacle and drops to his knees. A choir is heard and a bearded Angel descends from the ceiling. His beard is long and golden and flowing.)

Angel: (with great anger)

“And Lo! What is this I hear?
A razor ever coming near?
To shave this thing that I hold dear?
To show your naked face?”

(Paul lifts the razor from the table and stares at it)


“To carve with sharply bladed rod?
To show the skin of naked bod?
To spit upon the face of God?
To show you naked face?”

(Paul seems to be struggling with bringing it to his face)


“What could be happening in your head?
tis better you cut your throat instead!
For surely, tis better to be dead than
To show your naked face”

(Sobbing, Paul drops the razor and rages to the heavens.)


“My beard doth grow unruly,
As nature made it so
I know know that my mission,
is to let this glory grow!”

“I shall not touch vile razor,
May it grow as thick as vines,
to allow my beard to forever grow
Is to drink of heaven’s wine.”

“My beard hath grown unruly,
My soul hath bleacheth white,
My robe is clean my words are pure,
Thor’s angel has shown me right.”

(Paul’s beard begins to glow with heavenly light)

(The Angel’s beard unfolds, covering the entire stage. The chorus grows loud and crescendos while the beard wraps itself around paul and carries him, along with the Valkyrie, to Valhalla.)



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