1817, Venice is in the estro of her carnival - Byron is resting at his lodgings, the draper's shop ‘Il Corno’

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F(knocks): My lord? - are you awake, my Lord?

B: Why do you ask Fletcher?

F: The candles are unlit - you are unshaven - unshorn - and uncloathed - and I see no black-eyed Venetian girl before you reading Boccaccio

B(yawns): I have been up these last two nights at the ridotto and the opera, and all that kind of thing (scans room) - mio caro Marianna is, I believe, at Mass with her marito - (snorts) - said cuckold of these premises, heh

F(is shocked): Lord above! - Is a new amica reason to neglect your toilette? - I must draw t’bath (shakes head) - if I may take leave, my Lord, such slovenliness was unknown in Bennet Street - aye, nor Newstead neither - my lord was so very particular

B: We’re more relaxed here in Italy, Fletcher - I forsee no unexpected callers and feel quite free to lounge in my dressing-gown, which cost more than a decent post horse, and slippers - and smoke my pipe - and twirl my mustachios - ‘til the next masque (yawns again)

F: Humph! - shall I be bothering with bath salts, oils and exfoliants? - or would a sponge and carbolic sulphur suffice?

B: Now, Fletcher - relaxed I may be - your Lord and Master, I still am - look to it!

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F sulks about his duties - B slides into bath - a knock at the door is heard

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F: My Lord! A visitor, my Lord! You are still not drest!!

B: I am scrubbed as yet only to my elbows (knocks continue) - send the inopportune rascal on his way

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​F is heard muttering with a gondolier

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​F: ‘Twas but a note for your Lordship - I do not know the seal - but ‘tis certes the urgent scrawl of a lady

B: Just so? - heigh ho! - read it, Fletcher - and pass me the loofah

F: “My Lord - I should very much wish to offer you my acquaintance. I propose we meet tomorrow either in my gondola, the island of San Lazzaro or a third rendezvous, whichever pleaseth thee, yours ‘til midnight, at either one of these places, E.S. xxxx”

B: Sink me! ha! - how well this country’s disposition I know! - they let Heaven and the island-bound monks of Lazzaro see those tricks they dare not show! - heh heh - write Fletcher - and take care with your spelling - have you a pen? - good - “Neither of the three places suits me; but that I shall be at home at ten at night alone, or at the ridotto at midnight, where Signorita E.S. might meet me masked”

F: er - how do I spell ‘neither’ in Italian?

B: Buon Dio, stupido! - speak to her gondolier and be done with it

F: Si, my Lord

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​B relaxes even further in the bath and runs the initials ‘E.S.’ through his head - is delighted to find they are an unfamiliar combination

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Scene 2

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Next evening - it’s ten o’clock and B is alone - a knock on the door goes unanswered

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​B: Fletcher!! (a void is apparent) - damn his eyes and ears! Shall I have to button up my own waistcoat as well?! How would an Italian valet de chambre fare, I wonder? They are a well-turned-out race, perhaps too much Macassar - incomparable though it be

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​​The knocks get louder

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​B(speaks in a Notts accent through grate): I regret t’owners be gone to a conversazione - good eve to you, bonna sierra, aye

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​The door of the apartment crashes open - in walks a well-looking and (for an Italian) bionda girl of about nineteen

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B: Mi scusi signorita! Have we met? Are you selling corn plasters and/or tooth powder?

ES: None of the same Milord (smiles winningly) - you said you should be here at 10 - so - here I am too

B(maintains polite indifference): E.S.? Yes? My, well - please, do sit - will you take Champagne - port-wine - lemon granita?

ES: I require no refreshment, Milord Byron - dolce Madre! - how easily I gained entry! - what an added bonus that you have such unheeding servants

B: Indeed - I am at present contemplating a recruitment drive (grinds teeth) - however, as you say, so very convenient at this particular juncture (pours two glasses) ‘twould seem you have something to discuss with me, yes?

ES: Si, milord - I have noticed you often in masque - the hideousness of which could not disguise your teeth, which are so many stationary smiles - and your eyes, which are portals of the sun

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​B sighs

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ES: My name, milord, is Elena Segati (B gasps) and I am married to the brother of your amorosa - and I wish to have some conversation with you, you understand?

B: The sister-in-law of Marianna? (rubs chin in amazement) - well, that is certainly a new one on me - is that - no, it’s perfectly legal, is it? mmm - yes, I do believe it is, yes? (is perplexed) - two husbands - and two sisters-in-law? - oons, my arithmetic is fundamentally unsound

ES(laughs at this semblance of compunction): Milord - shall we commence our rendezvous here? - ‘twould appear we have the draper’s salon to ourselves

B: Unwise mia ragazza - there are no locks or bolts in this country - and be damned to them! (frowns) Elena? - is your name Greek? Wonderful place Greece - made me a poet, you know

ES: My mother was a Greek of Corfu - we can make small talk in Romaic if that would get things moving

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B unwisely attempts to calculate Mass times during Carnevale

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B: Is Father Spoonelli reading the sermon this eve, I wonder? (to self: if so, we’ve a good two hours yet)

ES: Oddio! What do I know? - my only Sin is an over-beating of the heart (proffers same)

B: My, such disarming forwardness - come - let me take your cloak - and stays...

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​The door gently opens

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​B & ES: Marianna!!!

B: In propriâ personâ!

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M makes a most polite curtsey to her sister-in-law and to B

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M: Buonasera

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​M seizes her sister-in-law by the hair, and bestows upon her some sixteen slaps

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B: Marianna! - by all the saints, stop it! - you are making my ear ache with the echo of such violent wallops!!

 

Indescribable screaming ensues - ES takes flight - blows as many kisses as possible with a swollen cheek

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Scene 3

 

​B seizes M - who - after several vain efforts to get away in pursuit of the enemy, fairly goes into fits in B’s arms

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​M: The fire is extinguished in your bosom milord? I shall die! - also, my husband has sold all the jewellery you gave me!! I shall drown myself in the canal - and take poison - my shattered heart will become the gristle of local legend!

B: My little antelope - be assured, I too am in love - fathomless love - enough to furnish a new Chapter for Solomon’s Song (kisses hand) I meant to have given up gallivanting altogether but - (ties dressing-gown) - I know not how it is - my health growing better? - my spirits not worse? - your great black Oriental eyes - well, whatever it is - the “besoin d’aimer” came right back upon my heart again

M: What? What do you say? Why do your thoughts always wander off in the middle of amorous declarations?

B(to self - mem. must mend that): I swear eternal constancy, my treasure (M swoons) - how could I be tempted by an intruder who baulks not at a gentleman dressed only in a loosely tied dressing-gown? (M faints) - Fletcher!!

F: Yes, my Lord

B: Where the devil have you been! I may have been spared this conniption were you mindful of your duties, instead of debauching with any willing washerwomen you stumble upon (F is drunk and cares not) - fetch me half a pint of water - and some vinegar - and eau de Cologne and God knows what other waters beside that will calm her (starts) but not my pale Champagne or Ginswizzle

F: Yes, my Lord (mumbles to self: too much of t’other my Lord, too much)

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​M continues with the fainting and hysterics till past midnight

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​M(between sobs): After the Mass, Father Spoonelli - laughing, mio Byron! - laughing told me he saw the gondolier of that puttana bugiarda (spits) - on our stairs - and he just after hectoring us re. the Whore of Babylon..

B: Ah! - the Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth (is lost in admiration)

M: Si, that puttana! - she has a penchant for moving in on my amanti, my maids are required to report any invasion to me at the Conversazione (weeps) and - tonight - by the ghost of the Holy Virgin - she has her victory! (weeps and pummels cushions)

B: She was here but a minute, mio tesoro - you observed she was still cloaked did you not? (chuckles to self) - though, I must say, that was a very pretty piece of pugilism, my love - and I have seen fits before, and also some small scenery of the same genus in and out of my own island - but, my little songstress, between the screaming, slapping and slamming of doors - tonight the prize money is yours! (laughs)

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​M is just beginning to calm down - when in walks Signor Segati, her lord and husband - M screams and faints, again

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SS: What is all this? Why is my wife fainting upon a sofa? What is all this apparatus of confusion - dishevelled hair, hats, handkerchiefs, salts, smelling bottles? Why is my lady as pale as ashes, without sense or motion?

B(airily): The explanation is the easiest thing in the world, Signor - but in the mean time it would be as well to recover Signora Segati - at least, her senses - with all due suspiration and respiration

SS: You appear under-dressed, milord - very much in the rustic Anglo fashion (circles B) - It is as well for you, milord, that jealousy is not the order of the day in Venice and daggers are out of fashion, while duels, on love matters, are also unknown - at least, with us husbands

B: It would be best to let her explain this pantomime as she chooses - a woman being never at a loss for the simplest of explanations - forsooth, the devil always sticks by them, does he not? (SS laughs)

SS: Milord - almost all the married women here have a lover - but it is usual to keep up the forms, as in other nations, when one is caught - er - in flagrante, er - Inglese? - ah! -on the spot

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​B bows

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​SS: My never-to-be-sufficiently-confounded sister will be much discomposed with the shame of the failed conquest of the famed milord - and will tell of the affair to half of Venice - and your servants, they will tell the other half (shrugs as sighs as per a veteran cuckold) but here - in truth - nobody, nay even our clergy - mind such trifles, except to be amused by them (Marianna stirs on sopha) - as for Elena, bene dio, she will either laugh, or lie or jump into the Grand Canal like any native-born Veneziana - either way (bows again) - milord, there has been no harm

B: Aye, therein lies their greatest charm (gazes at M, who is busy counting her teeth) - by the by, Signor, I meant to inform you that I’ve lately had a notion of moving to a larger premises - I require peace and quiet - and unmolested distilled liquor - to scribble my poesy - and my rascally, drunken valet is on the outs - could you recommend an old and indelectable crone who could keep such a house - and cellar - and my affairs - in order?

SS(thinks): Da Dio, I do! (smirks, with malice) - Signor Cogni, a baker, has an extremely docile, plain wife - albeit bred from a race of gladiators - whom I shall be only too delighted to recommend (bows) - ‘tis but the least favour I can rend

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​​​Door slams - Marianna is heard screaming and splashing in the canal - F throws B’s loofah into the water for use as a floating device - M makes like a Fury towards her sister-in-law’s, and, along with Milord Inglese, does indeed enter into local legend - and great applause

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END