d

Cast

Lord Byron

Fletcher

Alexander Scott

Richard Hoppner

John Cam Hobhouse

Contessa Teresa Guiccioli

Count Guiccioli

Count Rasponi

Count Mosti

d​

Scene 1

​

1819, Byron is packing up the Palazzo Mocenigo for his move to Ravenna - three jealous comrades, Hobhouse, Scott, and Richard Hoppner are blocking the fireplace

​

H: If you would oblige us by sitting down, Byron
B: Indeed, Hobby? - Fletcher!

F: Yes, my lord

B: Don't forget to pack my monkeys

F: I'll never catch them, they are sleeping in the chandeliers!

B: Mmm, we shall leave the simian rascals to Madame Mocenigo - mercifully that aged she is somewhat deaf -and may mistake their shriekings for seagulls

S: Byron - milord - we have urgent business!

B: Look to it, Fletcher - by the looks of this convocation, I may be detained some time (smirks)

​

F grunts and frowns at the gentlemen

 

B: I own, gentlemen, I have not been called to attention suchaways since my days of rebellion and conflagration at Harrow School

S(clears throat): We are all agreed (all nod) - my Lord - that you have become a dull fellow since you imagined you fell in love with that Romagnuola Countess

RH: Well said, Scott - quite dull - and although I rejoice that you have found the wherewithal to amuse yourself with a girl of nineteen (to self: pfft! - she's 21 if she's a day) - she is married to a Count of fifty who is shrewdly suspected of two assassinations already

H: Aye - and this affair may yet terminate likewise, for they are liberal with the knife in that primitive principality

S: Do you not remember at Ferrara, Byron? The two women who stabbed one another in the guts and all for jealousy of your horse and saddle!

​​​

B is vastly amused

​

H: Byron! (stamps foot) Are you aware that the Buxom Vixen is considered the most ridiculous scalp-hunter in Venice? - good god! - When I think of your better feelings being thrown away on such an unworthy object (bites knuckles) - it brings to mind Seaham, January 1816 - and your departing coach - by all the Hindoo saints!, it's quite the head-wreck! (weeps into hanky)

RH: Mr. Hobhouse - pull yourself together! If such devotion doesn't bring you to sense, my lord, I'll have you know that Countess Albrizzi told her entire Conversazione last eve that the wench entangled you in her nets merely from vanity

H: Humph! - 'tis a common ruse of females devoid of humanity (wags finger) - just when she thinks herself sure of you, the strumpet will leave you in the lurch and make a boast of betrayal

S(mops brow): And if she should plant you? - and you should make a fiasco? - why, never again could you show your face on the Piazza, and you shall have to emigrate to India - or to Moscow!

​​

F is struggling with Moretto the bulldog who senses danger to his master

​​​

​B(puffs smoke): Oh - I see - ye are here to frighten me with some prophecies of plantation, of betrayal and humiliation? If there is any fool-making on this occasion, I humbly suspect that two can play at that - and if the lady takes another caprice (shrugs shoulders) - can’t we match her in that too? - what think you?

​​

The three comrades are becoming irate at B's continued nonchalance

​​

S: Well, be damned! - who am I meant to go swimming and drinking - and whoring - with?

RH: Who shall daily fill my gossip fount?

H: You shall not get out of that backwater alive if you're caught by that redheaded Count! I hope you have your Mantons - and your broadswords - and boxing gloves - well oiled and primed (weeps into wet hanky)

B(laughs): Ye scoundrels are making a sad hand at goading me into such violence that I should be expelled from the province - if not the country! (the men shift) However - my friends - be assured that I never supposed that the G. was to be a despairing Shepherdess - all I know is that she sought me and that we consummated our unlawful union with all the proper rites four days and daily previously to her leaving Venice - gentlemen (rises) - I am in love with with that callow Countess! 

​H: In love?! 

B: Lord above, Hobby! - You hardly thought me more interested in viewing the antiquities of Ravenna than my lady's chamber? (guffaws)

S(dons coat): The die is cast, my friends - he shall “pass the Rubicon” whether the Conversaziones gossip or not (looks at B in his best pelisse) - as for the Contessa, in truth, who could blame her!

B(decides to twist the knife): More so, my friends, for I wish to marry again - is it possible in Scotland, I wonder?

​​

H wobbles into the sopha

​​​

H: There is nothing you love so much as running counter to counsel, and not to abscond! We should have the consolation at least of doing our duty by you - you vagabond!​​

​​​​​​​

B leaps into his gondola - makes hand gestures towards his three comrades, which Hobhouse presumes to be farewell salutes​

​​​

d

Scene 2

​

The Ton of Ravenna is gathered at the Opera House - all are a-twitter re. the Inglese milord

​​

Signora 1: I saw Milord Byron on horseback today - ah Dio! - how beautiful he was! - truly, the men should agree to exile him

Signora 2: They say he murdered a man in Florence, the marito of his amica

Signora 1: Which amica? They say in Venice he had the Tarruscelli - the Da Mosto - the Spineda - the Lotti - the Rizzato -  the Zambieri..

Count Mosti: .. the Glettenheim & her Sister - the Luigia & her mother - the Fornaretta - the Bolognese figurante - the Tentora and her sister..

Signora 2: Why! - he has had them all and thrice as many to boot since 1817!

Count Rasponi: They say in France, he drank from the skulls of his dead mistresses

Signora 1: Oibò! (chuckles) - the common opinion is that the Guiccioli palace has impressed him more than the Rotonda of Dante and the remains of Theodoric (all chuckle)

Count Mosti: Police Chief Spoonelli tells that he had incarcerated his wife in his castle in England out of revenge for starching his collars

Signora 2(raises fan): In equità, amici - he has recovered the Contessa with the aid of Dr. Aglietti - that Venetian miracle of medicinal scholars

​

All nod in approval - B enters the Guiccioli box at the opera - gasps and sundry faintings ensue from the audience

​​

B: Most Esteemed Signora Contessina, Conte (bows) - Count Rasponi (bows)

G: Milord - please, do sit here - behind my wife

B: Grazie - and who do we have warbling for us this evening?

T: Milord - I do believe we have Rossini fiddling for us this evening

B: Oh - fiddling? - just so (glares at T's back) 

​

The fiddling commences - B ponders T's glowing curls

​​

T(extravagantly): Why, Count Rasponi - I have been looking forward to sitting next to you, most especially, since my recovery (adjusts his cravat) - how robust and ruddy you look by candlelight!

CR: Grazie, milady (kisses hand) - and how well you look when not exposed to broad daylight

T: Milord Byron?

B: What?

T: I require an ice - would you mind trotting down to the lobby - lemon, if you would

G: Teresa! We have servants for that - my apologies, milord Byron - we shall blame that affront to etiquette on the Peruvian bark (clicks fingers)

T: Count Rasponi - are you musical, like myself? I have a great talent for the lute, when it's in fashion  - and the pianoforte - I can see by your long, elegant fingers you could wield any instrument of your choosing with great passion

CR: Why I...

​​

B rises and rips the velvet curtains from their pole

​​​

d

Scene 3

​​​

​​Momentarily, a meeting in the lobby occurs

​​

T: Mio husband Alessandro has sent me down to get my own ice, mio Byron - I hope you are happy! (coughs)

B(is pacing): Teresa, mi amore - never again shall sorrow be a Vampire at my heart for thee - drop by drop and beat by beat ye have wrung my bosom’s blood!! (a scoop of lemon granita cools him down a bit) - my treasure! That head of yours is an enigma, and you have no heart to be happy with! (kicks ornamental fern) 

T: Oh? You seem troubled (flutters fan) - your thoughts, they cannot find rest in you? 

B: What?! My thoughts cannot find rest in me?! Are you surprised? What is that man doing every evening for so long beside you in your box?

T(to self: dio - such jealousy!!): Man, what man?

B: Every time I turned my head towards the stage, you turned your eyes to look at him - nay, to - flirt! - with him

T: Who? Oh, you mean Count Rasponi - ah, he is but an old friend of mine from my convent days, a French instructor, or something - anyway, we agreed not to indulge in jealous scenes, did we not? - we are agreed in our love, are we not?

B: “Agreed” - fine words! - “You are agreed”

T: Pfft! - I cannot ignore everyone else just to aid your comfort, mio amico

B: Do not fear, for tomorrow I shall leave the field clear for him! I have no strength to bear a fresh torment every day (bites lip violently) - you have made me despicable in my own eyes, in Ravenna's, in your father's and brother's - you are now free to use your black arts on others!

T: My arts - but what arts have I ever used with you?

B: Have you not seen my torments, my fears?

T: Does il maestro Rossini make you want to block your ears?

B: To the devil with you! My comrades were right - you have won me and now you have planted me! I can never forgive myself the weakness of heart which has prevented me from taking the only honourable step - that of bidding you good-bye - for ever! Farewell, my dearest Evil - Farewell, my torment - Farewell, my all!

T: Good night, mio Byron (smirks)

​​​​

B gathers cape and accouterments and heads out into the night

​​​​​

d

Scene 4

​​​​​

Next evening at the Opera House

​​

B: Most Esteemed Signora Contessina, Conte (bows)

G: Evening, Byron

T: Milord

B: I presume it is no imposition, Conte, I have invited some new friends of mine (G bows) - you know the Count Mosti of course, and Count Rangone, they have bought some ravishing friends, I surmise - Geltruda Vicari in particular - oh! what great black eyes!

​

T starts

​​

G: Ah, yes - the Vicaris are noted beauties - why, they even make the most charming corpses

B: Just so? (is momentarily disturbed) - How very pretty she is by candlelight, so very pleasing in her manners and very lady-like - or thoroughbred as we call it in England - elegant withal, like a racer - an Antelope - or an Italian greyhound

G(gawps): Si, her sister, a Countess Somebody - I forget what - for they are both Maffei by birth, also sings like my little nightingale Teresa - when not bedbound

​B: Well, that is indeed a relief - your musical soirées have been somewhat tuneless of late (death-stares into T's back) - we have the honour too, of hosting the fair Ursula Broncolino this evening - fresh out of her convent (buffs nails) - I find the Society much younger and better here than at Venice (waves to girls) - oh! - and Laura - such a pretty creature, why I was quite overawed - made of the very stuff which inspired Dante - “I did but see her passing by. And yet I'll love her till I die" - or was that Ford? (underlooks in maiden's direction)

​

A dead silence reigns

​​​

G: Er, marvellous, my lord (whispers) - although I presumed with your acceptance of our more formal custom of serventi, you meant to give up these things altogether (glares daggers at T) - or was it just a maybe?​

​B: Ah! Geltruda - come, sit on my knee - ha ha - just an ultramontane joke - Countess - would you shove over and make room for the Lady?

 

T detects a brazen squeezing of hands

​

T: Alessandro, mio devoted husband - I feel a recurrence of my life-threatening illness looms - would you carry me in your fine, strong arms to our coach and six - fear not! - I'm now as light as a pair of chopsticks

​​

The couple depart

​​​

d

Scene 5

​​​

Next evening in the Opera lobby, Mosti runs frantically to B​​

​​​

​​Count Mosti: Milord - please, before you enter the Guiccioli's box - you must know that all of Ravenna is up in alarms (mumbles) - milord, you are not fulfilling your duties

B: Duties!!

Mosti: In Italy, a man must be a Cicisbeo and a Singer in duets, and a connoisseur of Operas - or nothing!

B: Humph! The lady is troublesome, imperious, exigeant - and she hates all flirting but her own - there is nothing further worth discussing!

Mosti: Pay no mind to such “Gelosie” - it is but the fault of the climate and the conjunction of two such capricious races as the Italiano and the Inglese (hesitates) - er, but here hath been no stabbing nor drugging of possets, as yet, no?

B: No - and there shan't be - I feel sure of it

​​

​B and Mosti take their seats behind the G's

​

B: Conte, where is the fair Ursula this evening?  

G: Santa Maria! Of all the things, her barbarous mother suddenly rushed her to a convent! 'Twould seem she was informed that a cloaked man was courting her from her window - she returned his smile, so will be married off in September and locked up in a turnstile

B: Married? (mutters loudly) - so there are no hopes! - be damned!

G: They say she was well disposed and could easily have been obtained​, milord

​​B: Just so? And what of her friend - il molto bello Gertrude Vicari?

Mosti: Her husband..

B: Husband!

Mosti: Why, he is the most jealous centaur - and her mother-in-law! - a dragon of the most fiery order - had heard that she was volleying those black eyes all evening at a visiting nobleman - the consequence of which is that she has been dragged off to Bologna

B: Bologna? (smirks quite uncontrollably) Well, sink me! - and the inspirational Laura? - what has become of that most succulenta of females?

Mosti: Ah! - her fate is worse! - a rumour came to her ears that unless she left town immediately, her face would be set upon with a cactus and her jewelry be given to the Carbonari for pistol practice

​​​​​

T's shawl slowly slips from her bare shoulder, B leans forward

​​​​

B: Contessa, permit me

G: Mosti, I have some matters to discuss with you - milord Byron (bows) - I commend the Contessa to your service 

​

The deal being formally sealed, B & T lose no further time

​​

B: My treasure! My witch! My evil! - I love you - and how well you know it, thou thundering demon! 

​​T: What a fool I should consider myself if so great a man would have slipped through a badly-made web of deceit and made you a freeman!

B: Oh, the fiddler is on his last scherzo - quick, Teresa - we shall be rejoined shortly! Tell me, mio tesoro, are we to spite all the Conversaziones of Venice? My interfering - somewhat frustrated - friends? The heckles of my bulldog? Are we to be together - separate palazzos - separate spouses - and Count Rasponi notwithstanding - forever?

T: Si, mio Byron - even in Hell - where I have prayed your amicae to be hurled forthwith - you would be my love!

​​​​B: Such sounds are uttered, and such charms displayed, so sweet a language from so fair a mouth - ah! to what effort would it not persuade? (kisses T's hand)

​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The audience - long since deaf to the scrapings of Rossini - discreetly acknowledge Byron's new place in their society - and swear a blood oath to repeat no more unfounded gossip - or any other impropriety

​​​​