The Mandrake Poem by konye ori

The Mandrake



I am vice, conceived by the
presumed power of the mandrake
I am the fruit that avarice and manners had produced
Yet desperation calls me son

Hypocrisy, the architect of my birth:
To avarice- a schemer
To desperation- a counsel
The mandrake, the tool

The eyes of manners is pierced
And her tongue is cut off
By the very sword that should have swung to defend her honor

In a Machiavellian globe
where avarice defiles manners,
where hypocrisy is rewarded
where a rusted sword is put in a golden sheath
And desperation is given the status of hope
-have I been conceived.

But I have come to distort the good
you have created by the leprous hands of manipulation.
I have come to turn joy into ache.

I am vice, the foster son of desperation.
Your means justifies my ends


(Poem on the morality theme of Nicollo Machiavelli’s play “The Mandrake”)

Morality characters:
Avarice- Callimaco
Manners- Lucrezia
Desperation- Nicia
Hypocrisy- Ligurio
Sword of honor- Frate Timoteo and Lucrezia’s mother

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