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Granta: a Medley

or 

Thoughts Suggested by a College Examination

 

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​Cast

Lord Byron

JC Hobhouse

Edward Noel Long

William Bankes

Magnus, Tyrant of the Exam Hall

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 â€‹Scene 1

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1807, Cambridge - Byron's superexcellent college rooms

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B(gawping from window): Look at Magnus! - how his ample front sublime uprears!

H(squinting): Ah, yes - there he is - high in the midst, the adjudicating Lord surrounded by his peers

B: Regard the Sophs and freshmen trembling at his nod - the luckless fools imagine him a God!

WB: Who now?

B: 'Twould appear to be exam time, Bankes (shrugs) - to judge by the doffing and scurrying for favour - hmph! - such depravity is somewhat akin to the loathsome social dynamics I lately endured at Southwell (shudders)

H: 'Tis well for the pair of you! - some of us require degrees, favours, Livings, fellowships and whatnot - unlike our betters - we have to earn our letters

WB(sneers): Who would that be now? 

H(returns sneer): How very  Corfe Castle' of you, Bankes! - Scrope, for example, shall need his Fellowship if ever his luck at the rattle-box runs out

B: An unlikely circumstance, Hobby - our facetious charmer will marry a dowager - with no living heirs - and a dashed decent stable, have no doubt

H: I must depart (is mightily forlorn) - for I head to the most unroof’d of all old Granta’s halls, thus to proof such unprofitable knowledge for which my Father - and my overly modest allowance - squalls(sighs)

WB: Ah! The middling merchant's scholar (snorts) - sits poring by the midnight lamp - in apartments small and damp - goes late to bed, yet early rises..
B(scowls): Poor sport methinks, Bankes (to H ) he insults yet chastises..

 

H is in need of restraint, WB is occupied with fabric samples

 

B(steers H to exam hall): Now, Hobby - pay no mind to the peacockery of Pedantic exam-hall inmates on full display - 'tis the price of venal votes to pay (slips H a naggin of brandy) to beg a Living from Granta shan't be your lot - n'er a clerical or collegiate life of sub-par tobacco and stultifying brain-rot! 

H: Nay - I certainly do not feel a predilection for Mathematics - or any penchant to bewilder myself in the mazes of Metaphysics - nor Methodism - little of which I've ever apprehended
B: What say ye to a plague-avoidant Grand Tour once such sufferings are ended?!

WB(interrupts): I am mid-decorating Corfe (to B) - perchance I could meet you in Greece where the Marbles are as free as our scholastic diadem

B: Aye, the Marbles well may be - but not the race who made 'em

H(grimacing): Well - gentlemen - I'm off to earn my gown and board - I suspect your choice of sumptuous Batchelors raiments - although unearned - will shame aught but a Lord?

B: Undoubtedly! (laughs) I may choose dark green for my robe? - yes? no? (looks in mirror) - what say you Bankes? (WB is sulking) - anyway, farewell Hobby - thou studious son of Alma Mater (B reaches for the latest Guide to the Milliners of Covent Garden')​

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​​​Scene 2

 

Byron has not set foot outside his superexcellent college rooms - Edward Noel Long, B's companion in sporting matters, knocks  

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​B: What? (to self: must replace my now transported valet, the thieving dog!!)

L: Good eve, Byron

B: Long! - why, how delightful to see you free of metres Attic, problems mathematic (pours brandy) - that barbarous Latin which Magnus dooms all to wrangle..

L: Sink me if I haven't sacrificed hours of rest to puzzle o’er the deep triangle!

B: 'Tis obvious you have been depriv’d of many a wholesome meal (searches unsuccessfully for dry biscuits) - what say you to a swim? 

L: I fear not (consults watch) - I've yet to sit for Authors of Historic Use' - oh, how I prefer the letter’d sage to the square of the Hypothenuse

B: Well, fie and fiddlesticks on't!! (paces) Hobby is in a paroxysm of examination - Matthews requires no such preparation but is somewhat on The Town - of sorts - of late (knits brow) - when alone, Long, I find myself in a perilous state of rumination

L: We shall rejoin our pleasures, Byron - but I must firstly ensure a Living - else I be keel-hauled into the Navy or battered into the Army - such luxury (scans the Covent Garden Guide') - shall have to wait

​B: Luxury indeed! I haven't lived like a German Prince for a damnable two years! Why, I have endured unspeakable horrors (counts on fingers) - I have transported a servant who stole all my best trowsers and small cloathes - quelled varied impertinent inflammations - become a vassal to Mrs. Massingbird's moneylenders - and still my passions, my amiable Mama and my affairs remain tumultuous! 

L: Perhaps a return to the serenity of the Southwell set (B starts) - er, would inspire further volumes of Poesy for the Ladies - and make your fortune yet

B(is astounded): Holy fires, Long - however exalted one may be in the List of Lords - it is to be but very low in the Scale of Human Beings if I were to take profit from my Poesies Erotiques' (clenches perfect teeth, which are so many stationary smiles) - as they are termed in that abode most bleak!

L: I suspect you shall come to regret such Ancien Régime accountancy - however, good eve Byron - class-honours, medals, fellowships - or perchance the declamation prize - await (knocks back his brandy) - how I envy your idleness (frowns) - and your rooms so sedate (sighs)

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Long departs - Byron broods

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​Scene 3

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Morn - the chapel bell has disturbed the sleep of many​ -WB barges in

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WB: What the devil is that barbaric noise?! - damned racket is quaking my decanters

B: The chapel bell (ceases) - oh, now with the soft celestial swell - how it rolls deeply on the listening ear

WB: Are we expected to join’d the sacred song? The royal minstrel’s hallow’d strain?
B: I'd wager he who hears the music long, will never wish to hear again! (glares towards the devout strains) - I once mutilated a perfectly good robe and velvet breeches falling from the window ledge at chapel - made quite the agnostic of me

WB: What think you of yellow for my Batchelors robes?  

B: With a gold tassel??  

WB: My taste rarely fails - vide D'egville's ballarinas - yet you are right on this one

B: Bankes? (is hesitant) - pray, what think you of our sojourn at college? Should we have attended our studies as equitable fellows, intent on letters and knowledge? Should we not admire the efforts of our friends to gain an honest foothold in the Great World?

WB: Why - when they attain to that which we already have?

B: It is resting uneasily on me - although - myself? - a scholar? devil take them - I HATE tasks!​​​​​

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​H and L enter 

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L: I made a right wreckage of Euclid's axioms (is distressed) - oons! I'm no more a scholar than an Astley's clown!

H(biting nails): When did Henry trample on the crest of France?

B: er, not sure - what think you of purple for my gown?

WB: Splendid on a blue-eyed youth! - with silver frogging and silver tassels perchance?

L: Father will conscript me - by all the Saints, I'd rather drown!

H: The luck is yours, Long - a remote, disdainful congregation awaits me (grinds teeth) - oons! what a load of pants!

WB(whispers to B): Dull as the pictures which adorn their halls - they think all learning fix'd within their walls

H(hears well enough)Bankes! - thou ‘Father of all Mischief' - whose daring revels shock the sight, where vice and infamy combine, where drunkenness and dice invite, where every sense is steep’d in wine!

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WB attempts a lunge

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B: Enough! - I shall not second either of you - Bankes, I must agree with Long and Hobby - in fact - after an exacting day's self-examination, I am making scholastic reparations of my own - for I am humbled by your honest toil (bows to H & L)

H: Forsooth Byron! - 'twil be but to the honour and adornment of your ancient name to have lots of little letters after it

L: Your noblesse Byron - goes truly beyond your obligation

WB: I thought you hated tasks? - are they not quite below your station?

B: That is unchanged - to explain - such acclamations perhaps shall not honour my name

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The friends are perplexed

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B: Myself, I bid farewell to old Granta’s spires - for my pen is blunt and my ink is low - my degrees in vice, of course, they are complete - as well you know - nay, I shall surrender my unearned gown and cap to the most worthy and accomplished fellow of my acquaintance (bows to H & L) - one who, for two years, has resided here with such laudable patience

H(thinks): Why, Matthews is currently detained by the Watch in the Town - Edelston is secure in a pre-eminent mercantile House in the City..
B: Welcome your peer and fellow, my friends 

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Door crashes open

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All: Bruin!! (to B) - Byron!!! ​​

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Bruin climbs library stairs and chews through The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' with prodigious insight, and incisors

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WB: For Bruin, green? - most certainly green - yes, Byron? marvellous with that shimmering russet pelt

B: Superb! - and a needle-worked belt? - tied just so? Come, we must hasten to my tailor, Edwards on the Row

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B and WB take a measuring tape to Bruin

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H(whispers to L): In truth, my dear Long - I would rather be of middling stock (Bruin & B wrestle the brandy bottle) - than join our nobility's gene-addled throng (L nods) 

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A dashing, velvet-cloaked Bruin is awarded - and eats - his degree in the Senate House - Magnus assumes him to be a Gaelic-speaking relict of Ivar the Boneless, from the Isle of Sheppey â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹â€‹

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END​

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