Two Gentlemen of Verona

Two Gentlemen of Verona

by Debra Tillar

In fair Verona town one festive day

As flags and cheers and trumpets rent the air,

Party boats festooned the waterway

And singing crowds adorned the central square.

The regiment had rallied in the street,

Called to arms and ordered to defend

Their northern border cities and defeat

The French aggressors to the bitter end.

With hope and pride the town folk celebrated

The soldiers as they mustered for the cause.

With kisses, handshakes, hugs unmoderated,

Roses, garlands, fanfare, songs, applause.

On this otherwise auspicious morn,

As dancers gamboled with a boisterous band,

Young Julie bowed her head and wept forlorn,

The pain of heart was more than she could stand.

Her love, the handsome Lonzo, finely hewn,

Proudly wielding helmet, sword, and shield,

Stood there brave and bold with his platoon

And readied for the march as church bells pealed.

“Don’t leave me, cara mio!” Julie cried.

But Lonzo scoffed and kissed her dulcet cheek.

“Don’t make a fuss,” he said with wounded pride.

“The French bâtards will yield within a week!”

Across Piàzza D’Oro in the crowd,

Sweet Rosamond revealed her strong emotion

To Niccolo and unto him she vowed

Her constancy, her love, and her devotion.

Like Lonzo, Niccolo was hardly moved.

He smiled and tipped his cap and gave a wink.

His love for Rosamond was hardly proved;

He really couldn’t care what she might think.

The two young women harbored some suspicions.

Of course they feared the safety of their dears

But rumors said the boys had some ambitions,

That they had plans to exercise their spears.

Most legionnaires were eager for crusades,

But certain young men marched for other reasons.

Their purpose to seek wanton escapades,

To sample other sauces, other seasons.

They mused of meals with women thickly sliced,

 Desserts with lips that taste of caramels.

Were told they’d find such things quite hotly spiced

In the arms of eager mademoiselles.

The hour came and off the troops paraded,

Headed for a French provincial town

That didn’t know it soon would be invaded

By men who sought a merciless beat down.

The Veronese raised hands in exaltation

And praised their heroes on in adulation!

Some months passed by, the war was far from over,

Soldiers wounded, dead, and MIA.

Were Niccolo and Lonzo pushing clover

Or biding time in some French cabaret?

Rosamond and Julie met one night

Wandering each alone along the river.

They shared their dread for those who’d gone to fight—

Catastrophes and qualms that made them quiver.

“I write to Lonzo yet I get no letter,”

Julie used her sleeve to dab her eye.

“I fear he’s dead and yet I do know better.

A missive would be sent if he should die.”

“From Niccolo I also get no word.

But after all they’re fighting in a war.

It might be that they think it too absurd,

That taking time to write is just a bore.”

“Yet other men at war don’t feel that way,”

Julie said with anger and frustration.

“Letters come from soldiers every day.

Righteous men don’t fear communication.

“I love my Lonzo but there is no trust,

His vanity and looks have caused me pain.

I’ve heard that Niccolo gives in to lust,

That our beloveds wonts are much the same.”

Rosamond took heed and thought a moment.

She’d ascertain the truth were she a man.

And in her head an escapade did foment;

She shared with Julie her ambitious plan.

“There is a way to prove our lovers’ worth,

Ease our hearts and allay our suspicions.

Come with me, I promise we’ll unearth

The truth about those rascals’ dispositions!”

The ladies gathered everything they’d need:

The clothes, the tools, the mules they’d have to ride,

Convinced that with this plan they guaranteed

Their dreads and fears would soon be satisfied.

Cunningly they glued on large moustaches,

They cut their hair and put on soldiers’ pants,

And bound their breasts and trimmed back their eyelashes

Then went to join the army, still in France.

They galloped off, so brave and bold and clever,

Determined to complete their shrewd endeavor!

Meanwhile, war with France was not proceeding,

Hostilities had trickled down to nil.

Both sides sent reports that were misleading,

In truth they hated war, they liked to chill!

The French and Veronese had soon decided

The joys of life were preferable to war,

And found the local villages provided

Amusement that would boost esprit de corps!

Now daily both the armies joined together,

In search of drink and ladies of the night

To help them doff their chainmail and their leather

 With thirsts no better than a troglodyte.

Niccolo and Lonzo were out sousing,

Joined by six or seven other men.

The soldiers had a knack for lewd carousing

In any local bawdy house or den.

Two young amichi came and asked to join

Their kinsmen in pursuit of carnal lust.

They showed they had the craving and the coin;

They drank, they spit, they scratched their balls, they cussed.

Now incognito, Rosamund and Julie

Played along as if they both were men.

 At times festivities became unruly—

Julie rode like an equestrienne!

The prostituta knew at once the caper,

But being paid gave neither lass away.

The busy hands and fiddlings did not taper;

The feckless men did not suspect foul play.

“Lonzo never touched me quite like this,”

Julie whispered soft to Rosamond.

“I’m starting to suspect what I have missed,

A lifestyle that in past I surely shunned.”

Rosamond just smiled but she said nothing,

Watching Niccolo deep-dish his pie.

Much excessive moaning, huff and puffing—

Not much to respect or dignify.

And when they’d seen enough the ladies leapt:

“Fie! You rutting goats, you three-inch fools!

Rot in hell!” they shouted, then they stepped

Out the door to mount their stalwart mules.

“I think those soldiers’ insults were unfair,”

Lonzo said, and gave his ‘stache a twirl.

“Don’t know who they are and I don’t care.

“I just hope that they don’t tell my girl!”

Niccolo had hardly paid attention

So focused as he was on his pursuit.

His brain had withered to incomprehension,

He couldn’t get his mind off his cheroot!

The gals left town without a backward glance,

Satisfied to know the outcome of

The short but fruitful time they’d spent in France

Had changed their notions of romantic love.

“I really liked that lady,” said sweet Julie.

“I never knew that sex could be so fine.”

“Agreed!” said Rosamond, then added cruelly:

“Niccolò—his moves were asinine!”

“This journey has confirmed our worst suspicions,”

They both admitted as they rode away.

“And yet despite the lurid expositions,

Our hearts are fine and feeling rather gay!”

And so at journey’s end they both agreed

That they were better off! Goodnight indeed!