Opening Scene - part four

 Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Father                (A little embarrassed) Err ... quiet ... Peaceful.

Mother                Nothing out of the ordinary then?

Father                How do you mean?

Mother                Well, no dragons for instance?

Father                 No ... No dragons.

Mother               We haven't actually had a dragon for... oooh, the last fifteen years have we? Do   correct   me if I'm wrong.

Father                No, but then again...

Mother               In fact we've only had the one dragon in the last two hundred and fifteen years.

Father                (Squirming) Ah yes, but...

Mother                And even then it was only a small dragon.

Father                 Look, are you getting at something?

Mother                I just think that it's about time you got yourself a proper job, that's all.

Father                I've got a proper job!

Mother               'The Official Village Dragon Slayer'! It's ridiculous.

Father                There's a lot of responsibility involved.

Mother                But there are no dragons!

Father                That's beside the point. If ever there was one - it would be up to me to deal with it.

Mother                And what's supposed to happen in a few more years’ time? You're      not   getting  any  younger you know.

Father                 Well that's where Ned comes in. It’s an hereditary post; he will be the Dragon Slayer     after me.

Mother                He will not.

Father                 (Ignoring her.) Of course we'll have to beef him up a bit first. You have to be tough to     kill dragons.

Mother                  Edmund will do no such thing. I won't have a son of mine doing anything so     preposterous!

Father                   Oh? And what will you have a 'son of yours' doing?

Mother                 Something much more compatible with his nature; he's a sensitive and      delicate  child. His future lies with his brains - not brawn. I feel that he would make a      good poet.

Father                   (Explosively) What!

Mother                 Or perhaps a minstrel. He would mix with such a better class of person at court.

Father                   My son, a versemonger! Over my dead body. Imagine what the neighbours  would say.       I  wouldn't be able to show my face in the tavern again

Mother                   Well what a blessing that would be!

Father                   (Ignoring the comment.) If it wasn't for your pampering and molly–coddling, Ned      wouldn't be so sensitive and delicate. The way you fuss over him all the time you'll      turn him into a right sissy!

Mother                  Simply because I want him to appreciate some of the finer things in life      and  to learn  some refinement I don't think that I'm being fussy.

Father                   'The finer things of life'! What good will that  do him? He needs to be strong and       manly I tell you - not some feeble poet.

Mother                   And what sort of shining example are you? Well let me tell you... (There is the       sound of a heavy door opening and closing.)

Father                    Shhhh, that's Ned now.

Mother                    (Emphatically) Edmund.

Father                     (Calling) Hello Ned! We were just talking about you.

                                                                         (Part Five)

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