(Scene: Charles' house. The statue is now in the closet. Jonathan is peering through his microscope as George rummages through a bag.)

George

Do you have any idea where the creature may be?

Jonathan

I recall the paper saying that the last murder occurred near Church Road. Whether that’s an indication of its current whereabouts, I can’t confirm.

George

Well, it’s a lead. (Removes revolver from bag) I will begin my search there.

Jonathan

What are you doing!

George

Charles’ face is headlining the town paper, I’ve made sure of that. As far as anyone is concerned, he is the killer. But if another murder occurs while he sits in jail, well, must I illustrate my concern any further?

Jonathan

I understand.

George

While I hunt down the fiend, you will stay here and continue your research. And do not leave this house-- that's an order. It's difficult enough hunting this beast, but that it shares your face complicates matters even further.

Jonathan

I understand. But Father…

George

Yes?

Jonathan

Please don't make it suffer.

George

Don't fret; a single bullet through the brain will do the job. It'll be like our safaris in Africa.

Jonathan

Our safaris.

George

Ah, yes. Our safaris. That word alone summons a thousand happy memories, does it not? Do you recall our one trip-- I believe you were fifteen at the time-- when we saw that great lioness fifty yards across that field? How I gave you my rifle, and told you to shoot?

Jonathan

I recall not wanting to shoot.

George

Oh, but remember how I inspired you! Remember how you tossed aside your indecision, and seized the game that was rightfully ours. Remember, Jonathan, how, from fifty yards away, you shot that lioness right between the eyes.

Jonathan

And how it fell dead on the spot.

George

And how proud of a father I was. (Beat) And how prouder I am now.

Jonathan

You are truly proud of me?

George

More than I ever have been before.

Jonathan

(Somberly) I must finish my work, then.

George

I shall return soon. Good luck. (He exits)

Jonathan

(Stares into empty space, as if he sees someone in the room with him) “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;/Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair.’” Percy Shelly. Do you recall those verses, my dear? I doubt you do. I had read them to you long ago. Such a grand, powerful name, Ozymandias. You said it reminded you of my own, and that you were proud to adopt such a powerful name. (Beat) “Nothing beside remains. Round the decay/ Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare/ The lone and level sands stretch far away.” I cried when I read these lines. The ruined edifice of a noble man. His Greatness crushed to sand and piled in heaps around him. It felt like a warning to me. (Beat) Ozymandias. Such a grand, powerful name indeed. Were you truly proud to adopt such a name, Cecelia? Am I proud to have been born into it? To be King of Kings? Even as my kingdom crumbles to sand and buries me? Am I proud? After all of these unfulfilled expectations? These broken dreams? These failures? These deaths? Damn! What am I to be proud of! (Jonathan retrieves the statue of Aphrodite from the closet and addresses it) My name is Ozymandias! King of Kings! Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! (Beat) (Angrily) My name is Ozymandias! King of Kings! (Beat) I have done everything that was expected of me! (He is about to throw the statue onto the ground, but is unable to. He begins to weep) Oh God! Cecelia! Mother! What have I done!