Shakespeare Must Die Act 4 scs 1-3

 

 

Act 4 – 1606. Dr Faustus has just been published.

Sc 1

The upstairs of the inn. Bacon, Donne and Jonson await the arrival of James.

Jonson – And I tell you it is one and the same thing, a conjuration is a conjuration whether you summon angels or demons.

Donne – I mark you it may sometime be all you can do to tell one from the other. It is not how they look that is the test, but how they act. I see an angel hovers o'er thy head, Ben …

Jonson – Methinks 'twill be more likely demon … I did partake rather liberally of his Majesty's bounteous hospitality yester e'en, and what you see as an angel acts rather more basely.

Bacon – Gentlemen. To business. We have been trading in words for some time now. It is, perhaps, time to decide whether we continue or no, and if so, in what vein.

Donne – Thou traitor, Francis, I arrest thee.

Bacon – Pray, for what offence?

Donne – For disobedience. To our sovereign Lord.

Bacon – How, prey, do I disobey where there is no edict?

Jonson – What is it with you two?

Donne – Presumption, Francis. Revolt, or I'll let Ben tear your flesh!

Bacon – I do repent I e'er offended him … come sweet, sweet Jack and let's return to what we do best.

Jonson – I never did understand you, Francis.

Bacon – It is but metaphysic, the highest operative power known to man …

Donne – Natural Magic, Ben.

Jonson – Ah, alchemy!

Bacon – No, Ben, definitely not alchemy. Us? Labouring over old receits?

Donne – That Alchemy is a pretty kind of game, somewhat like tricks of cards, to cheat a man with charming.

Bacon – Indeed, it is hard to decide whether the alchemist is deserving of laughter or tears.

Donne – Ah, when the Limbeck's warm womb doth inspire a soul of gold into the earth's worthless dirt

Bacon – But the eternal, cherished hope fails as eternally, and yet the alchemist brings himself to task, not the words or the art of the authors – he turns his gaze then to tradition and underground reports.

Jonson – It this not as we do? We do inspire into the weight of circumstance the eternal weight of words.

Donne – And yet those who look to the art of the author find nothing of value.

Bacon – But their belief that within are riches is the primary cause of their poverty.

Jonson – They know not whom to believe?

Donne – They know whom, and what, to believe.

Bacon – But their belief alone cannot make something true.

Jonson – And what of ourselves? Are we to settle our studies?

Donne – At the round earth's imagined corners.

Bacon – But where once we worked behind a veil, enfolding the secrets and mysteries of religion, policy and philosophy in parabolic poesy …

Jonson – Are not the choicest fables of the poets wrapped in perplexed allegories?

Bacon – Yes, Ben, yes. But our new king is not the old.

Donne – True. He insists on talking directly with his subjects. It is unwise.

Bacon – He needs must bite with his friends' teeth.

Jonson – Talking and eloquence are not the same.

Bacon – Indeed not. The glory of a god is to conceal a thing, the glory of a king is to find it out. Our king seems to think his glory resides in promulgating that which he hath yet to discover.

Jonson – And we are as flies to the gods, they kill us for their sport.

Donne – Yet for those we give life, we are as first mover.

Bacon – We are clear, then?

Jonson – Plays speak plaine, where counsellors blanch

Enter James.

James – Gentlemen. It has come to our attention that one of the works of that notorious, if elusive, and most definitely deceased playwright Marlowe has been publish'd in quarto. It worries us muchly that within the leaves of this piece the work of divinity is much traduced.

Bacon – Your Majesty?

James – And I hereby serve notice to you, the royal playwrights, that we are determined to act to restrain these abuses by players.

Donne – Your Majesty.

James – I shall decree that any person who should, in play or interval, jestingly or profanely speak or use the name of God, shall be fined £10.

Jonson – choking on ale Your Majesty!

James – And so it will be

Bacon – A move, your Majesty, worthy of Solomon himself: che sera, sera

Donne – Aside What doctrine you call this? What will be, shall be? Free speech, adieu!

Bacon – An we perform in your name, yet we are content.

James – It is becoming that we are recognised as what we are. We take our leave.

Exit James

Jonson – Aside See power to flattery bow.

Donne – Does any here know me? This is not Will

Bacon – Does Will walk thus? Speak thus? Where are his eyes?

Jonson - Either his notion weakens, or’s discernings are lethargied. Ha! Waking?

Donne – 'Tis not so? Who is it that can tell me what I am?

Bacon – Will’s shadow.

Act 4 sc 2

1612. The sharp report of a gavel silences the chatter in the smoky upstairs room in the inn

Jonson - Oh, here we go.

The man at the table's head pulls back his hood to reveal himself as King James of England and Scotland.

James - Gentlemen. We have called you here today to make an announcement, and to make a request.

He coughs. Pauses.

We are to be a father-in-law

Donne – aside Must be she-who-must-be-admired has a suitable admirer at last.

Bacon – aside Well, it's hardly going to be Charles, that sickly whelp.

Jonson – aside Let's hope he's more of a looker than Carlisle.

Donne – aside It won't be hard to improve on that camel-faced drone …

Bacon – aside … And young enough not to be her father.

James coughs again

James - I can hear you, you know …

There are general apologies in the air

James – The Royal Princess Eliza is to marry. And to coincide with the wedding …

All - wearily another play.

James - Yes, but not just any play

Donne - A tragedy!

James - This is to celebrate a wedding …

Donne - aside Exactly ...

Jonson - A history!

James - No, no, a comedy, a phantasy. It must delight the senses, it must be exotic, it must have a masque ...

All - Your Majesty?

Jonson - I'm already knee deep in one, for heaven's sake …

James - And this will be an end to it ... the time is upon us, this will be Shakespeare's last play.

Jonson stands up

Jonson - Three cheers for dear old Will, hip hip …

James - Pray be seated, master Jonson, there's work yet to be done.

Bacon - Burbage will not be best pleased.

James - Burbage will be easily assuaged … this final play will be performed at Blackfriars.

Bacon - The privy council will not be best pleased.

James - The privy council will keep their counsel.

Bacon - Shall I begin proceedings?

James - Yes. And brooke no complaints. Onto the play. It is to be a celebration of the marriage of two unspotted souls.

Jonson - An encomium – let us order a butt of sack

Donne - Bring us celestial liquor!

Jonson - And who's the lucky lad?

James - The Palatine

All - hushed An elector?

Bacon - For Eliza? But he is several degrees beneath her, your majesty … Elizabeth is a royal princess, anointed by God … he does not even command the title Prince as will Maurice, and what title he boasts, he merely inherits …

James - We believe Frederick will be Bohemia yet … he is of suitable age, and lacks a stable of bastards, unlike Maurice. And he shall be refered to as the Prince Palatine.

Jonson - interposing a hint of levity Didn't we have a Bohemia already?

Bacon - Ferdinand, yes. In the romance the young Princess herself penned ... but if Frederick takes the crown of Bohemia the Emperor will not be pleased – his reign will like as not be but a winter's tale also.

Donne - She-who-must-be-admired and Bohemia.

Jonson - I needs must be drunk an I write a comedy.

Bacon - changing tone Miranda and Ferdinand.

Donne - Brought together by the power of books.

Jonson - Who was her last suitor?

Bacon - Maurice of Nassau, who will be Prince of Orange.

Donne - The setting must be an isle in the Bahamas.

Jonson - You and your bloody islands, John. I prefer Bermuda.

Donne - This Isle of Orange I acknowledge mine.

Bacon - This Isle is full of noises off …

Jonson - What Brave New Isle that has such people in it.

James - nonplussed Gentlemen. We've taken the liberty of penning some few lines for you to include. The Virginia colony needs some support.

James stands and turns to leave the room, hesitates in the doorway. Stops

James - Oh, and we want a tempest, but a gentle one. No-one must suffer. we cannot abide pain … and we wish to wish it to be …

He starts again and calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room

James - And there must be music, and dancing. exit

The room turns quiet. On the table there is a bundle of paper.

Jonson - A tempest? He wishes to wish it? What cares these roarers for the name of the king?

Bacon - Nature cannot be controlled but that we obey her

Donne - Of course, Francis … C'mon Ben, you know you want to.

Jonson - mimicking James 'Tis time, Eliza,

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

And pluck my magic garment from me.

Donne - mimicking Elizabeth I will fetch my monkeys. calls Somerset, Caliban …

Jonson - So, lie there, my art

Donne - Father, you must allow me to fashion you a new cloak, beset with pearls, rubies … can I, can I?

General laughter which fades as they view the table and its offering

Jonson - Oh good god, what delights have we here?

Donne - We made him learned in our languages.

Jonson - And all we learn from him is how to curse our misfortune … still, just one to go. But the king's words ... I think this is more Francis territory, don't you, John?

The two men watch as Bacon unravels the bundle. He reads intently …

Donne - Francis …

Bacon - reading from the MS Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, And were the king on't, what would I do? I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things. For no kind of traffic would I admit, no name of magistrate he coughs

Jonson - Haply this doth ring a bell, eh John?

Bacon - And so it should, for it is largely cribb'd from that Frenchman believes he can write.

Donne - James ever desires to rule with the pen and not the pikestaff – it becometh him not to lower himself to make conversation with the people.

Bacon - Did not Solomon write a Natural History?

Donne - So you would have us believe. But 'twas likely not his pen that had the potency to turn pregnant prose into fecund folio, but that of his servant … It is surely a matter for a king or pope, such a venture, but not for them as anything but prime mover. For a king's words are as law, and we must protect our craft from such an imputation.

Bacon - It be one thing for a king to write in private, yet another to write in public, in the hearing of others … but his majesty intends publishing a volume of his works presently.

Donne - Those that were anonymous?

Bacon - The same, though no-one thought them written by anyone but he.

Jonson - But to claim authorship …

Bacon - He is currently insisting those more contentious pieces continue to be marked as written by Anonymous.

Donne - Within the folio marked 'King James'? He is no stranger to the stage … but soft, more of that anon

Jonson - to himself  To collect one's works is to claim the title of author … aloud what think you on authors, Francis? mutters to self under the answer authorship itself is a new departure. A volume of works. Intriguing …

Bacon - Time, Ben, time is the author of authors … but James? He would be happy to be set adrift in a boat with but his books for company if only he wasn't king.

Jonson - Mayhap we set merely his books adrift, Francis?

Donne - None of his subjects ought object … if this is to be Shakespeare's last hurrah, perhaps we ought set his Majesty an example … dispense with the books. An exiled ruler returns to his rightful place but sans the books which sustained his spirits ...

Bacon - Books are ever children, to be left to future ages, to sustain one in the later years. But on the island we must have witches, demons, tobacco …

Jonson - And a charming, handsome young sprite as an assistant

Bacon - ... as handsome as they come, great legs, dances a pretty gavotte … exceptionally white skin,  on whom 'tis said he washes as if by the book of hours.

Donne - We can have an onstage retirement … declaims Now my charms are all o'erthrown, what strength I have's mine own.

Bacon - Your charms will never be overthrown, John.

Donne - You are too kind, Francis. But now this virgin princess is to be deflowered …

Jonson - drunkenly My stomach is not constant … fetch me more sack ...

Bacon - The heat is upon him, John, we'll get no more out of him tonight … loudly, into Jonson's ear come, thou tortoise, there's other business for thee …

Jonson - I will hide in my shell lies down and pulls a sheet over himself and intones quietly, over and over 'I am Ben Jonson …'

Donne - Such a sly fox, but when the thirst takes him … Jonson commences snoring

The two men walk slowly offstage

Bacon - A strange fish indeed

Donne - neither fish nor flesh

Bacon - a mooncalf

Donne - No, a prince of cats … sleeps most all the time …

Bacon - Perchance?