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Obamandias and Hildebeast

Obamandias and Hildebeast

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Obamandias and Hildebeast

66 pages
30 minutes
Sep 13, 2015


The bloody war between King Obamandias and the Lady Hildebeast, as it was written by Mr. Owen Fusterbuster, Gent., with the pleasant japes of the braggart Brian of Williams, the lamentations of Monica, the merry songs of Bill the Bastard, and the antic foolery of Colbert, the toad. 

Sep 13, 2015

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Obamandias and Hildebeast - Owen Fusterbuster

Prologue. A dumb show and its signification

A King and a noble Lady enter and sit for a game of chess. The Lady, misliking the King’s move, doth upset the board. In heat the King striketh her. She gougeth his eyes. He delivereth nookies to her pate. The pair choke each other and die together, their bodies being borne off to the music of hautboys. The moral being, that if the players follow not the rules of the game, they invite calamity, and this even in the great and mighty.

Scene 1.

The throne room of the White Castle.

Flourish. Enter King Obamandias and his Fool, attended by Lord Harry the Reed


Upon mine honor, good Lord Harry,

Wert thou a woman, I’d thee marry.

With thine one eye that still can scan,

Thou seest farther than many a man.

Whilst others trust in lesser schemers,

I trust in thee, my Polyphemus.

No scruples hamstring thee from action

Needful to further our faction.

Where must be done a dirty deed

There thou wilt find Harry the Reed.


My thanks, great King Obamandias

Whose might the earth scarce doth encompass,

Whose lordly air of proud disdain

Doth overawe this barren plain,

And whose sneer of cold command

Holdeth sway o’er all the land.

From on high do you stare down

With a cruel and august frown,

A colossus made of more than stone,

Never to be overthrown,

Unthinkable to be struck low.

You shall reign fore’er—may it be so!


I prostrate myself, O godlike one,

And hide my face as from the sun.


’Tis true, my reign shall never close.

I’ve vanquished all my mortal foes

Save one who thinks she can aspire

To my place when I retire.

A time there was I prevailed upon her

To choose the course of greater honor,

To put aside her former hate,

Serve as secretary at State.

Come eight years I’d leave the land

And give the realm unto her hand

That she might wear the purple robe

And rule this plenty-peopled globe.


You mean the dreadful Hildebeast?


One and the same, not more, not least.


Doom to us all should she bestride

This land that you have pacified.

Sand through the hourglass hath run.

The term of years is all but done.


Oh woeful woe! One of no merit

Must not thy legacy inherit!


There is no cause for these alarms.

The lady

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