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Cast

Lord Byron

Scrope B Davies

Fletcher

Lord Salisbury

Mrs. Mule

a Porter

Miss Cameron

Cheeks Chester

Tom Moore

Jenny - a Beast

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​Scene 1

 

1814, Byron is lounging by the fire in his Albany rooms

 

F: That Mr. Scrope is here to see you, my lord

B: Ah! - good - the profane jester - heigh ho! do show him in Fletcher - oh, by the way - it is Mr. Davies, if you would

F: humph

S: Evening, Byron (throws hat at F) - good god man! - you are positively supine (circles B) - are you wed to that overly comfortable sopha upon which you recline?

B(shudders): One hopes I am as approximate to yoke-hood as ever I can be, Scrope (sinks further) - truth be told, I am ennui'd to the oxters with balls and bawds and fainting dames (yawns) - this whole week I have not dined out, have heard no music, have seen nobody - I am content to merely sprawl and stare at yon flames

S: Pshaw! - we can cure that, my friend - come, a plunge - high life and low life, what? - we shall feast on a collar of brawn and make merry with the milliners at the Dog & Duck...

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Mrs. Mule, B's withered and frightening housekeeper, barges in

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MM: 'ere you!! (shoves damp mop in S's face) - leave that Lordship be! - 'tis ye and ye'rs 'ave got him crook as a eel - 'e will be stopping in til 'e be well - now - sling ye'r 'ook!

S: What is she saying?

B: Mule is somewhat protective, Scrope

F: 'Taint right Mr. Scrope! - my Lord be throwing all his poems, and unedited scribblings re. his private arrangements into the fire!! (is tearing handkerchief) - why, he does owt but smoke and feed Jenny - that feathered savage with the Devil for a sire!

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Jenny the parrot flies off her perch, insulting Mule on her way

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MM: You too, ye airborne rat!! - I'll 'av ye roast for me tea - and yer tail-feather in me hat!

B: Mule! - mind what you say - my little Jenny is prepotenate in revenge (strokes J's feathers - J smirks)

F: Mrs. Mule - we shall leave the gentlemen (whispers) Mr. Scrope, if you could persuade my Lord to take a turn outdoors, I am sure his spirits would revive

S(winks and nods): To the point of my calling, Byron - Cheeks Chester is taking on Alehouse Abercromby for the Dog & Duck annual Rum-Punch-and-a-Dunk challenge - the Emperor of Pugilism, Jackson, has opened a book 

B(revives, tepidly): Jackson, you say? - why, surely you can foresee - you'll get but very short odds on Cheeks - such a smooth reconnoiterer with a glass is he

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A double knock on the door

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F: Lord Salisbury is here to see you, my Lord

B: Hey day (sighs) - do show him in, Fletcher

LS: My lord (bows) - why, hullo Mr. Davies - pray, are you here about Jackson's book? 'tis my very reason for calling - a bunch of us Lords - and other gentlemen of good family and vanishing fortunes - are headed to the Dock & Duck - smart money is on Abercromby - what say you Byron?

B(bows): How do Salisbury (wryly) - 'twould be wise to defer to Mr. Davies on that or any other sporting matter involving batterings and blows - for myself, I intend no such excursion this or any another eve - for the present I require chastity, claret and some much procrastinated repose

LS: Damned shame, Byron(thinks) - if that be the case, why don't you take my box at Covent Garden for the season? Betwixt drinking challenges, bare-knuckle spectaculars, badger and bear baiting, touring troupes of French ballarinas - why, I shall have no time for the warblings and flummoxings of Mrs. Siddons or Keane

B: Most decent of you, Salisbury (brightens) - indeed, the theatre - of late - is an inordinately quiet scene (yells) - Fletcher?!!

F: Yes?

B: Prepare my evening clothes - I am to venture to the Mausoleum of Light Entertainment

F: Very well, my lord (smiles radiantly at S)

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S and LS depart for some gruesome action at the Dog & Duck

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​Scene 2

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Covent Garden, and the theatre is indeed bereft of gentlemen

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B(to self): Deuced if this isn't just the thing - fine roomy box - good viewing - hmm - I could pull that banquette up and have a decent doze - altogether, a quieter scenario than my rooms at the moment, what with Polly lamping Mule at every opportunity, Mule attempting to biscuit me when she thinks me asleep - och! - the single and doubling knocking, the masques, the villainous company - which hath been the spoil of me! - the potential for yet more crim.con - no, here I can hide from the Great World and ogle at leisure

 

B sets about making himself at home, orders champagne and cigars - sends his opera glasses to the lobby to be polished

 

Yea, if I must fritter away my life - I would rather - and happily - do it alone

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A rustle is heard

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C: My Lord Salisbury? I have your glasses

B: What? (turns to see CC) Miss Cameron? Caroline, as was? - of course (snickers) - my dear girl, his Lordship is taking the season at the Dog & Duck - I shall be occupying this box - solus!

C: My Lord Byron! (is flustered) - why, I still have my page's uniform downstairs, I....

B: Solus, Caroline! - please inform your associates in the Lobby of same - I carry no ready money or gold chains and my days on the Pearson's Remedy are over, more's the shame

C: Humph! - my Lord Salisbury would never refuse some - er - amusement - d'you know, on the spot

B: Well then, my dear, you had better high-tail it to said hostelry, had you not?

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C flounces, B feels a passing pang as he watches her familiar fairy ankle trip over the disarranged divan

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E'en the memory of that wench is exhausting - ah! Caroline - mmm, yet - one of the more enjoyable Carolines, it has to be said - got a damn fine shine on my glasses too (focuses on top-tier boxes) is that? must be - a sister of Fanny WW? - Lady M believes though but 15, a girl can quite know her own mind - she certainly has the finest eyes in the world - out of which she pretends not to see, the rogue! (brow darkens) - well, blast the sensible women in my life to hell! - for they are quite right - a wife would be my salvation - I am sure the wives of my acquaintances have hitherto done me little good (decisively) - nay! - she has much beauty but is, I think, méchante - so, I'll pass

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B gasps in shock 

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Well! even I  have delicacy enough to feel a little nauseous at seeing Admiral Spooney’s mistress - who, to my certain knowledge, was actually educated from her birth for her profession - sitting with her mother - a three-piled bawd - Bawd-Major to the army! -  in a private box!

 

An indignant B casts his eyes round the house

 

Oons and be damned! (bursts out a-laughing) - so - to count - in the next box to me, and the next, and the next, are the most distinguished old and young Babylonians of quality - 'tis no wonder Salisbury prefers the casual manly violence of the Dog & Duck (rings for hard liquor) - it is really odd, to think on't - there is Lady Blank-Blanque divorced - Lady Bumble and her daughter, Lady Babble  - both divorceable - Mrs. FitzTrollope, in the next the like - and still nearer - oops - may have had a hand in that situation

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The brandy is delivered

 

B: Thank you (hands porter a crown) - I'll be requiring another bottle presently, if you would (to self) - what an assemblage - to me - who know all their histories (is warming to his theme) - it is as if the house has been divided between your public and your understood courtesans - but the Intriguantes much outnumber the regular mercenaries - oh! there is the ever available and charmant Madam Pauline and - her mother! - in the next box to her? (cranes neck) - tsk! but three of inferior note (lights cigar and ponders) - now, where lies the difference between Pauline and mamma, and Lady Bumble and daughter? The two last may enter Carlton and any other House, and the two first are limited to the opera - and the bawdy house! (chuckles, with affection) 

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B reclines and attempts an alphabetical reckoning of  the attendees most ardent investors

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​Scene 3

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An thundering conniption of menfolk is heard on the stairs - the porter tries his best

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P: So sorry, my lord - but he says this is his box!
LS: HE? it is my box, you oaf! - I am Lord Salisbury - now - out of it! (porter scurries) - why, Byron - I do like what you've done with the place

S: Hallo, Byron! - my, how revived you look! - oons - is that white brandy?

B: Go at it Scrope - and be damned if the sight of our negligibly-clad Paphians has not completely recovered my essentials! (catches glimpse of a tweedy arm) - Cheeks? is that you? - pray - did Abercromby overcome? or did you plant his face quite handy?

CC: Neither, my dear man - at this very moment he lies untouched yet comatose - in truth, I ever thought the milksop far from brave  

M(wags finger): Mock not the afflicted, Cheeks! - he is as peaceful as the sleeping angels in heaven - as quiet as daisies nodding on a moonlit grave
B: Tom! - they never told me you would be at the Dog & Duck? (glowers at S)

M: Sure - where else would I be? Look around you - who would find entertainment here? none but dowagers and brutes

B(scowls): Humph! - our man Kean has yet to take the stage - and he is quite the dasher in leggings and strappy boots

LS: Anyway - Mr. Kean's costuming aside - we are not just here to drink your brandy, my dear Byron - your man Fletcher has set us on foot of a somewhat hostile situation

M(rubbing hands with delight): Did he not come yowling into the Dog & Duck - pin-holed with blood - and sure, wasn't it then that poor Abercromby fainted stone dead before the punch was poured! (shakes head) - ah! - 'twil be his ruination

S: I believe Jackson was correct in calling a TKO...

CC: ...I believe he was - d'you know (smirks)

LS: Never mind the fate of Abercromby!(to B) - 'twould seem your intemperate parrot - yclept Jenny - was scrapping vigorously with your old woman, Fletcher and your decanters of claret (B gasps) - whence the doughty Nottsman besought ambulatory assistance for Mule in a paroxysm of distress

M:The bird has flown, Byron - what air she now inhabits - 'tis no man's to guess...

B: Oh, my little Jenny (slumps onto banquette)

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An ear-splitting squall rattles the theatre chandeliers

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LS: Holy fires! - why is Lady Blank-Blanque attempting to trapeze onto Mrs. FitzTrollope's balcony?

M: La! (points) - my Lady Bumble has heroically launched herself upon the curtain - ouch! she falls - there'll be slaughter - oh! - all is not lost - she has landed upon her comfortable daughter

S: Why are all the ladies tearing at their hair and feathered ribands?

M(to B): Is this pre-Kean delirium common amongst the fair ones? - they whirl like mice trapped in a larder

B(perplexed): Not by any means, Tom - why, I've yet to see such violence and phrenzy outside of Mrs. Byron's parlour

LS(takes glasses): heh heh - such public indecorum will certainly take Buonaparte off the front pages - zounds! (zooms) - the modest laces and fripperies covering immodest bosoms have been ripped to shreds

B(roars): Modesty?! pfft - that mass of concubinage has not much modesty left to lose - in, or out, of beds

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The top tiers empty - the stage is crammed with semi-naked and injured Paphians seeking sanctuary

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B(squints): Well, sap my vitals! - is that? (stands) - no! my proprietorial, pursuing little Jenny? - the cause of all?!

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Said rampaging Fury - perched on the corpse of Lady Bumble's head-dress - starts and flies across the room to B

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B: Ah now Jenny, was this well done? (J attacks B's ear - the sporting gentlemen shriek like schoolgirls) - tsk! rest easy, ye pusillanimous poltroons! - though I must avoid egotism, which just now would be no vanity - the plumed hoyden has murderous intent towards all females within my ken - yet, she shall surrender to her chain and perch - furthermore, to Mule, she will make amends (feeds J cigar flakes)

M: Ah! sure God love the little one (J preens) - applaud - my friends - the entertainment fair Jenny has conferred (raises glass to J) - behold the Pantomime! - better yet than Grimaldi the Divine - or the Dog & Duck deferred!

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The pit is in uproar as the ladies fight for scraps of clothing - Lady Bumble falls onto the lights and sets the orchestra on fire - Kean is dragged out and his strappy boots are set upon - a resigned Mrs. FitzTrollope joins the crowd in a unhinged rendition of  ‘The Virgin and the Bull'

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B(is wistfully content): Ah! - how I do delight in observing life as it really is - the many (scans stage) and myself, after all, the worst of any!​​​​​​​​​​​

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