Sentence The Sixhundredandthirtyeighth

As it would not be until the middle of the next century that women would appear on stage, in Italy, as in England, female parts were played by boys and the company soon acquired a number of excellent boys, who took the roles of everyone from nuns and nurses, to serving wenches and queens, although there were many occasions when one or other of the young women in the Company did secretly go on stage in minor parts where their true gender would never be noticed by an audience absorbed in the performance of the principals, but the play that night was Romeo and Juliet, purportedly authored by Guglielmo D'avonis and the part of Juliet was enacted by a pretty young lad named Giorgio, and

what a natural he was: he could walk, talk, sashay, flirt and kiss like a girl, and it was this that had caused Sir Ptarmigan MacFarlane and Damien Doubleday to come backstage after the performance; Sir Ptarmigan said he wanted to compliment the entire Company on their production of the play, right enough, but more than that, he particularly wanted to enjoy the company of Juliet and didn't wish the actors and their friends to know his intention so, waiting till all had scrubbed the make-up from their faces and changed into their own clothes, he invited them to come to a tavern with him where he would provide a fine meal in gratitude for his evening's enjoyment; after the exertions of the play, and in good high spirits everyone happily accepted his invitation and the entire party were soon filled

with well-cooked food and wine and several had begun singing their favourite songs; now, Sir Ptarmigan, well versed in seduction, had contrived to have young Giorgio seated beside him and ensured that the lad got more than his fair share of wine – to which, unseen by anyone and unnoticed by the boy - he had discreetly poured a little powder and by the time he judged it best, when several
others had already departed, he only had to whisper in Giorgio's ear and they both slipped off their stools and left the room, discreetly followed by Doubleday; saying that he wished to give Giorgio a gift in appreciation of his splendid acting and his skill at playing the part of the girl, Juliet, the nobleman had no difficulty in steering him through the quiet streets to another Tavern where he and Doubleday had taken lodging and quickly had him up in the room which he shared with his valet, while Doubleday sat outside the door to prevent any unwanted intrusion; MacFarlane, who always travelled with a selection of fine clothes sized for young girls, because he knew how readily the temptation to acquire a silk dress or chemise or stockings overcame most objections – simple force the rest – asked Giorgio to don some which he took from the trunk, saying he had not actually seen them modelled by a living soul and wanted to ensure that they were properly cut and of the right length and fit; Giorgio, made muddle-headed and acquiescent by the drugged wine and the fulsome praise Ptarmigan had heaped on him, undressed with the help of the Scotchman and was then clad from shoulders to feet in fine female garments: "these is better than the schmatte we wear at the
theatre," he said, preening and displaying himself for this strange nobleman who seemed to have more money than sense, indeed by now the words from the older man's mouth were quite abyssal, Giorgio couldn't make any sense of them, and his head seemed to have left his body and was soaring like a bird high in the cloudland; and of course, by this stage, Ptarmigan was well aroused and ignoring the boy's incoherent refusal, and half-hearted attempts to keep on his feet, pushed him onto the bed and declaring "keep still for I will plough your little cunette for you," without any foreplay or concern for the young boy's person, forcefully ravished him and kept going until his own lusts were
sated, and the lad's cries, muffled by a hand over his mouth, were heard only by Doubleday who, when his master called, quickly entered and bolted the door, for it was now his turn!