Theatre of Blood Page #3

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and his body dragged from

the battlefield tied to a horses tail.

Lionheart, I came here for an interview,

not for a lecture on Shakespeare.

Now, tell us this remarkable story

of your resurrection.

Its a grave tale, Snipe,

and difficult to write,

but I am sure

you can rise to the occasion.

Stand back! Get out of the way!

The dragon wing of night

oerspreads the earth,

My half-suppd spear,

that frankly would have fed,

Pleased with this dainty bait,

thus goes to bed.

(evil laughter)

In the midst of life, we are in death.

We therefore commit

his body to the ground.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

in sure and certain hope

of the resurrection to eternal life

through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Man that is born of a woman hath but

a short time to live and is full of misery.

He cometh up

and is cut down like a flower.

He fleeth as it were a shadow

and never continueth in one stay.

Almighty God, Father of all mercies

and giver of all comfort,

deal graciously, we pray thee,

with those who mourn,

that casting every care on thee, they may

know the consolation of thy love,

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

- Amen.

- Whos that girl?

- Sh!

- Im sure I know her from somewhere.

Do be quiet, Perry.

..be with us all ever more.

(all) Amen.

Imperious Caesar dead and turnd to clay,

Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

O! That that earth

which kept the world in awe,

Should patch a wall

to expel the winters flaw.

Come, tie his body to my horses tail.

Along the field I will the Trojan trail.

- Shall I be seeing you at the club?

- (whinnying)

Oh, no!

Whoa, there.

(all gasp)

- Know him?

- Yeah.

Yeah. Hector Snipe.

- A critic?

- Yeah.

But hes supposed to be

one of the mourners.

George Maxwell, Hector Snipe -

both dead, both critics. Now, why?

Who hates you enough

to want to kill two of your circle?

Critics are likely

to make enemies, lnspector.

You might call it an occupational hazard.

But, darling boy, they wont start killing

people for writing bad notices, will they?

Well, why not? A play fails,

directors, writers, actors, careers ruined.

Plenty of motivation there, I should think.

Are you saying some lunatic in the theatre

might be trying to kill us all?

Its a distinct possibility.

Id like you all to give it some thought.

If you have any ideas,

get in touch with me... at once.

Take me home. I think lm going to be ill.

Oh, my God.

I think Georginas going to faint.

- I know who it is.

- What?

That girl. Edwina Lionheart.

Hello, Edwina. I thought it was you.

Well, the brilliant Peregrine Devlin.

Wielder of the brutal aphorism.

Master of the killing phrase.

My fathers murderer.

- Thats a bit melodramatic, isnt it?

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