(Enter SCRIMSHAW, an ancient sailor on hard times ashore, carrying a palm, a needle, a rigger's knife, a spool of whipping twine, and a sign reading "WILL SPLICE FOR FOOD!". He sits cross legged stage left and begins serving an end of rope.)

Scrimshaw:
"Now has one hand the fate of world's revised!
With simple brilliance, in a natural wise,
Bold Tweed, heroic in his stature and his sight
Has bravely brought to dusky shadows fulsome light.
Thus in his brilliance, in an era cold,
He has new warmth begot through tactics bold
And with a single stroke of wise conceit
Laid mouldy fixed opinions off thier feet
And paved the path for new things well-begun,
Bazoukis, dirndls and the fair accordion!"

(He lays his work aside and looks up as Lord Neanderthal, accompanied by the Lady Whinge-Jammer, come into the room, accompanied by a Page).

NEanderthal:

Sailor! How is it with thy wounds?

Scrimshaw:

They heal sir, but slowly.

NEanderthal:

And what of that violent sacrilege, the Lord Tweed and his accordion?

Scrimshaw:
It is well bespoke abroad, good sir, and the people expect fair sounds from the devils breeches!

Neanderthal:
I would ne'er have believed to ever hear such heresy from an honest sailor! Come sir, come!! Make your amends!! You are remiss!!

Scrimshaw:
I never have sir, not once, and never can do twice without.

NEanderthal:
Rogue!! Thou speakest gibberish to me? Go to, go to!

Scrimshaw:
Nay sir, and always have I aimed so well and never missed
That in good conscience I may not plead to this --
While in remission, yet I never was remiss!

NEanderthal:
Well, you are a rogue in every case, sirrah. What news of our Precious Shipment?

Scrimshaw:
Sir, it is enroute, and as precious as ever, or else it has been tried and hung.

Neanderthal:
Play you the fool with me, by all that holy is?

Scrimshaw:
Nay sir, and the shipment has arrived, it will be hung, and Tweed's own neck the gallows thereof; and if there, it must be tried, once hung. And as to all that holy may be, the last of all things his dun accordion, or it will have no bearing on affairs at all.

Page:
Sire, a report has been received of a UPS operator entering the abode of yon Tweed; methinks you wished to be advised.

Neanderthal:
Aye, and thanks, good Page. Refresh, reload, and here's a penny for your threads, I will away to stop this chaos at the very moment of its birth! (He exits stage right)

Scrimshaw:
A bolder estimate by far than most of that miserable state will make, having hard-learned the price for standing in the path of wind-born chaos! But never mind; I sense the hour of Tweed's bold escape from all things ordinary is upon us. We must protect ourselves from the monstrous storm he will unleash, and find ourselves a place of safety!

(He gathers his things and the whole lot scuttle off stage left).

Exeunt