Byron & Bob 1/3 | Jed Pumblechook

SEMINAL DIFFERENCES:

the Sorry History oF

Lord Byron & Dry Bob Southey

part 1 of 3

Cast

Lord Byron

JC Hobhouse

Fletcher

Holland Housers

Keswickians

Diodatians

SCENE 1

1813, Holland House - an intimidating drawing room

H(whispering): Sunburn me! - we are indispensable to the Ton now Byron - look! is that R.B. Sheridan?

B: Stop pointing! you're making a holy show of us! (scrutinises mirror) I'm trying to perfect my pale and interesting persona

H: Once my Journeys are published - and I am the new Lion - I will need a persona of my own - perhaps petite yet potent (muses)

B(irritated): Why do those overheated maids whisper my name whenever I stand by the fireplace? 'tis like the buzzing of mosquitoes in the more fetid regions of The East

H: They want to be lay'ed

B: Devil be in it, Hobby - if I'm not surreptitiously enjoying the Ton - this excess of attention and flattery is deuced seductive (underlooks at passing heiresses)

H: You must take care Byron, 'ere you're trapped in a blue-stockinged web

B: Hobby - look it's the laureate, Robert Southey (points to S) - oons! if he's not the best-looking bard I have seen for some time - his appearance is Epic!! - to have that poet’s head and shoulders, I would almost have written his Sapphics (both chuckle) - admittedly, his “Life of Nelson” is beautiful

H: He is certainly a prepossessing person to look on - and a man of talent - and all that, and - there is his eulogy! (more chuckling)

B: Master S.’s poems are, in fact, what parallel lines might be - viz., prolonged ad infinitum without meeting any thing half so absurd as themselves

S(eyeing B - to Lord H): Why are those young men laughing so immoderately next to the brandy cellar?

LordH: One you surely know - it is the Lion du Jour - Lord Byron (Southey's eye is trained all evening, with utmost discretion, upon the upstart)

Lord Holland attends to the new Lion and his little friend

LordH: Very welcome you are, my dear young gentlemen (bows) - my Lord, our young ladies are energetically demanding of their booksellers when your next volume of Harrys or Larrys - nay, Pilgrims or Pirates - will be hitting the shelves

B: Indeed? - if I have time between 2.30 and 3am - I shall attempt a bowel-rinsing tale of Oriental pulchritude and perfidity - (thinks) of 180 pages - give or take

LordH: No pressure - but we need to see where the Childe ventures next - perhaps to Notts ha ha what! - I have many introductions to effect - (notions to a lady) Byron, Hobhouse - I would like to present Sarah, the Countess of Jersey

The lads bow

J: Hothouse? - Lord Byron - how good of you to condescend to join our somewhat dreary and stale company

H & B: Our pleasure

J: My Lord - never in my recollection has any work since the Letter of Burke to the Duke of Bedford excited such a ferment

LordH: A ferment which, I am happy to say, will subside into lasting fame

B bows, resists puffing out of his waistcoat

J: And Mr. Hothouse - the companion of his Lordship's adventures - what can we expect from you?

H: I, too, have a volume due of our journeys in Albania - complete with detailed information re. public works and customs, with accompanying detailed illustrations - watercolours - by myself

J: How marvellously versatile you are Mr. Hothouse - I shall look forward to a casual peruse

H: I thank you

LH: Now, Countess - we must leave the young men to the admiration of ladies - it is certainly excessive

J: Anon gentlemen (throws B the eye - departs)

H: There's no escape now Byron - unless you write a comedy and/or marry - your audience is hooked - yea, to the very gills

B: hmm - I will need scrapes - scrapes sir! - if the fascination is to be maintained

H and B enjoy the evening - although half-frozen by Lady Holland's stinginess with the sea-coal

SCENE 2

Things are tumultuous in Keswick

STC: Have ye read “Childe Harold”? humph - all the world is talking of it - I have not, but from what I hear it is exactly on the plan that I myself had not only conceived six years ago but have the whole scheme drawn out in one of my old memorandum books!

WW: aye - who is this wicked whelp of Fame? - forsooth the varmint has also plagiarised my Tintern Abbey! (frustrated and pacing) - mmm - the true way of dealing with him is to shew that he wants genuine power - talents he has, but they are of a mean order

STC: I met him once - a more beautiful countenance scare could I imagine - his teeth so many stationary smiles - his green-room banter, however, is enough to make one’s hair bristle (shivers)

WW: Sam? - I do wonder sometimes - what with your unintentional hilarity, bizarre observations and adorable eccentricities - that you wouldn't be better served in friendship by his Lordship

STC: ahh! (sighs) - the excessive whoring would exhaust all my resources

S: His Lordship! pfft! - it is all a comet-ish flashy thing - in the sky - you know what I mean - aided and abetted by ladies of neglectful, boorish husbands (rises, in a somewhat military manner) - never fear my fellow Keswickians - the Immortal Hill is ours!

WW: Indeed - besides, the man is insane, and will probably end his career in a mad-house. I never thought of him anything else since the first fiend-like, wretched productions appeared in public

S(loud and smugly): Lord Byron had amused himself with lampooning me - it is a safe game, and he may go on till he is tired. Every apprentice in satire and scandal for the last dozen years has tried his hand on me - when he attacks me again, let it be in rhyme (sneers) - for one who has so little command of himself, it will be a great advantage that his temper should be obliged to keep tune!

STC bites his nails - yea, even WW is uneasy

SCENE 3

1816 - as a result of the absurd marriage promptings of Augusta and Lady Melbourne - B is now separated, living in Geneva and best pals with a married atheist, his teenaged girlfriend, their child, and her step-sister, expectant with Byron's impetuously conceived offspring

B: Hobby will arrive shortly, my dear Snake - you should like him - he is a sound fellow of dry wit and learning

PBS(sighs): We may just miss your Piccadilly crew Byron - our business requires us to prance back to London with some urgency (uneasily) - and there is the question of confinement, nay concealment

B: Oy! What ten minutes of pleasure costs us, Shelley! (laughs and puffs cigar)

PBS: We're trusting to your honour, my Lord

B(frowns re. Shelley's mention of honour): I agreed, did I not my dear man, that I shall raise said spawn as my own?

S: Indeed, yes - ah! (gazes forlornly) - we shall miss our moonlights on the lake - the chirping of crickets - the relief of Polidori's comic boasts - shall we ever know such beauty and productive peace again?

B: A blue sky bends over us all my friend (pats S's back) - although it has been a marked absence this particular summer

Mary rushes in

M: Shelley - my Lord - there are telescopes trained upon us! See yonder! (points across lake)

B: I’ll work those dogs - Fletcher!!!

F: Yes

B: How many below-stairs maids have we?
F: Seven, that I know of (reddens)

B: ha - you rampant Notts goat - order them to hang every undergarment they possess - esp. those of fine Swiss lace - on the clothes-line - (laughs immoderately) - they shall believe our crew to be in the estrum and agonies of incestuous intrigues

ALL: Byron!!!

PBS: Why must you always play with fire? This will reach the ears of every drawing room and publishing house in England!

M: We shall be ruined - even more!

B: In truth, my dear Mary, things just cannot get any worse - for any of us

Polidori limps with speed onto the balcony

P: My Lord - George (B pales) - everyone! I have just heard reports all over town - there are Englishmen claiming all here to be living in a League of Incest - over-indulgence in Laudanum - Orgies - or was that orangutans? - sordid nocturnal ramblings - I will lose my license!

B(with resignation): Of course - just as I lay down in the sun and dared to write down in my pocketbook that I was happy

PBS: Mary - we cannot be associated with more scandal - Sir Timothy will put me to work on the farm! (M gasps)

B: Polly - whisht awhile - have you a notion from whence these admirable rumours issued?

P: A gentleman of the law - in a carriage I've not yet seen - quite an innovative design - carrying a passenger with a handsome poet's head - albeit with a nose indescribable and quite approaching a medical condition

PBS: Er - in light of these developments - which may well inhibit my ability to raise any more post-obits on my father's fortune - we shall bid you adieu, my dear Byron (bows) - perchance we shall see you in six to seven month's time? - we have plans to rent a mildewy cottage with easy access to water-rats and the Hunt family

B: Adieu my friends - mayhap in Italy (shakes head) - good god

The company bows and departs, P empties the bin on his way out

B: Such ravings are the inventions of that execrable villain Southey, of course (hisses) - believes complaining of present days is the certain path to future praise - my fame he envies, yea, my skill he needs (waves to the charming maids hanging up their unmentionables) - I'll make the fool wish he'd changed his Lakes for an ocean (exhales fine Turkish tobacco)

END

Part 1 of 3...

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