Upstart Crow

by Ben Elton

  KATE: Hmm, it is a bit strange when you put it like that.

  WILL: He told me my tights weren’t fashionable enough and that I should wear purple puffling pants, yellow tights and really silly cross garters to the prancing.

  BOTTOM: He’s trying to trick you into looking stupid.

  WILL: Exactly! So must I go clad in sombre garb like a God-prodding Pure-titty and thus filch him of his gulling.

  KATE: Absolutely …

  WILL: And yet … why does this Greene hate me?

  BOTTOM: Because he’s jealous.

  WILL: Exactly, Bottom, because I’m a genius.

  BOTTOM: That’s not actually what I said.

  WILL: And since he knows how clever I am, he must know that if he tells me to wear stupid prancing pants, I will guess his bluffle and come in sombre garb, whilst he besports his dainty leg in finest Italian cross-gartered yellow!

  BOTTOM: You’re overthinking this, master.

  WILL: And so must I practise on him a double-bluffle and go a-prancing in purple pants!

  THE RED LION THEATRE – DAY

  The players be assembled.

  BURBAGE: Where be Will Shakespeare and his Jew play? This is most frustrating!

  KEMPE: Well, bad review, knocks you back. I know the feeling. Except, hang on, I don’t, because I’ve never had one.

  CONDELL: Personally I never read reviews.

  BURBAGE: Ooh.

  CONDELL: Although there was a lovely piece of graffiti about my Fairy Queen scratched on the wall behind the privy at the Red Lion.fn19

  Robert Greene arrives.

  ROBERT GREENE: Master Burbage.

  BURBAGE: Why, Mr Greene, to what do we owe this honour?

  ROBERT GREENE: You know very well. I sent word suggesting a revival of mine own sublime Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay for your next production. You have not replied.

  BURBAGE: Ah yes, well, lovely idea, Bungay and Bacon—

  ROBERT GREENE: Bacon and Bungay.

  BURBAGE: Er, brilliant stuff and all that. It’s just that we await a new piece from Mr Shakespeare.

  ROBERT GREENE: Really? Shakespeare. Shakespeare. Well, you may yet find you come crawling back to me ere long. This crow you speak of is invited to saucy prancings at Lord Southampton’s and methinks he’ll put up so poor a show he’ll n’er be seen in this town again. (Laughs) I’ll await your summons. Good day.

  WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – DAY

  The family be assembled. Will entereth.

  WILL: Unbelievable! It just stopped, stopped dead.

  ANNE: Susanna, your father’s home, help him with his cloak.

  SUSANNA: Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot I’m a slave.

  ANNE: What stopped, doll face?

  WILL: The coach! We were just pulling into Leamington Spa when it stopped. Barely fifty yards from the post house. No explanation. No apology. He just stood there, for a day. I mean why? Just why?

  ANNE: What are you doing home anyway? Did you miss us? I mean, not your mother, obviously. You’re not insane!

  MARY: I can hear you, Anne Shakespeare! And you’re a very common woman!

  WILL: To tell the truth, wife, I’ve had a bad review and must put on a really good show, so—

  MARY: Ooh, we might have just the thing, William. Come on, John. Tell him your idea.

  WILL: Idea? Dad? What? What idea?

  ANNE: Don’t listen to him, love, he’s a nasty, jealous old arsemongle.

  JOHN: It seems to me you’ve made quite a success of yourself with your ready wit and uncanny command of language, but you’re not that bloody clever. I’m as witty as you are, easy!

  WILL: Hmm. I’m wondering where we’re going with this.

  ANNE: He wants to get in on it. Don’t you let him!

  WILL: You wanna write plays, Dad?

  JOHN: No, not plays, I hate your plays. But you’re not just a playwright, are ya? You’re also a poet, a wit and an all-round smart-arse!

  MARY: A raconteur, husband. In Paris they say raconteur, which is French for smart-arse.

  JOHN: And I was thinking we could do it together!

  WILL: Together?

  JOHN: Like a sort of double act. You the famous, witty, successful son, me the grumpy old dad, who’s unimpressed by your success and fashionable ways. The only one who can really point out what a knob you actually are.

  MARY: Because he’s your dad!fn20

  WILL: Maybe? Er, not sure.

  JOHN: You’re ashamed of me cos I’m a convicted criminal.fn21

  WILL: No, no, I just—

  JOHN: Oh, you think you’ve got above us with your bloody London ways! But I fear you’ll never truly be accepted by the cock-snobbled folderols on account of the fact you’re a turnip-chomping country bumshankle.

  WILL: Not so, father! As you well know I’m invited to Lord Southampton’s saucy prancings. And you don’t get more cock-snobbled than that! On which subject, wife, I need new tights. It seems, to fit the fashion, I must come all attired in purple puffling pants, yellow tights and really stupid cross garters. You must stitch them for me.

  ANNE: And how am I to afford the material?

  WILL: Why, from what remains of the shilling I did give thee last time.

  ANNE: Well, I’ve spent it.

  WILL: Spent it? On what?

  ANNE: On what? On what, mate? I’ve got a bloody cottage to run and a family to raise, that’s what! I’m having the roof thatched, the chimneys are being swept, I’ve had the rat catcher round to do the beds. Hamnet’s wooden tooth needs re-varnishing and I’ve bought a ferret for Judith’s hair to eat the nits. I’ve paid off the witch accuser, so he won’t accuse me and Susanna of being witches, even though I think she might actually be a witch.

  SUSANNA: Oh, God, Mum! Thou art so funny!fn22

  ANNE: And I’ve bought the twins lovely new outfits for the May Day stupid dance. Beautiful purple doublet and hose for Hamnet and a lovely yellow dress for Judith.

  The children descendeth the stairs all dressed in purple and yellow.

  HAMNET: Dad, you came back! You’re gonna watch our May Day dance!

  JUDITH: We love our new clothes, and thanks for this wonderful colourful ribbon.

  WILL: Hmm … er, look, kids, it’s bad news.

  HAMNET: You’re not gonna watch us.

  WILL: Actually, it’s a bit worse than that.

  WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – NIGHT

  Bottom and Kate be present. Marlowe entereth.

  KIT MARLOWE: Just thought I’d drop by to check out Will’s tights before the prancings. You know, make sure he’s hanging properly. Showing good bolingbroke contours.

  KATE: He’s already gone, Mr Marlowe.

  BOTTOM: Yeah, he were too excited to wait.

  KIT MARLOWE: Oh, I bet he was. How’d he look? Pretty cool?

  KATE: Hmm … not exactly cool.

  BOTTOM: He looked like a massive futtocking cod-dangle.

  KATE: Robert Greene came round and told him to wear really silly pants, tights and cross garters.fn23

  KIT MARLOWE: Oh, so obviously he realized it was a bluffle to make him look a fool?

  BOTTOM: Yeah. But then he decided it was a double-bluffle.

  KIT MARLOWE: Hang on, hang on. You’re not saying that Will thought that Greene would guess that he would spot his bluff to bluff him into wearing stupid prancing trousers, so thought his actual plan was to twice bluff him into not wearing stupid prancing trousers, so he decided to counter-bluff by wearing stupid prancing trousers?

  KATE: Exactly, it’s that simple.fn24

  LORD SOUTHAMPTON’S HOUSE – NIGHT

  Guests are arriving. Will approaches the footman in his bright yellow tights, foolish cross gartering and purple puffling pants.

  WILL: Yes, er, hello, I’m here for my Lord Southampton’s saucy prancings.

  FOOTMAN: Yes, the artists’ entrance at the back door, please, and hurry up, the other clowns have been here half an hour!

  Now Marlowe approac
heth, all be’cloaked.

  KIT MARLOWE: Will! Will! Will! Thank God I’ve caught you. Greene’s been playing you, mate. Trying to make you look a fool.

  WILL: No!

  KIT MARLOWE: Yes!

  Now Greene arriveth full of pomp.

  ROBERT GREENE: Well, well, well! Our upstart country bumsnot come a-prancing ’mongst the dainties. Ah no, I see now you are come as a jester to amuse the children. The apparel oft proclaims the man, and you, sirrah, are proclaimed a fool.

  WILL: I salute you, Greene. You knew that I would guess that you would guess that I would guess about the stupid pants. And so with fiendish cunning did you triple-gull me.

  ROBERT GREENE: No. I just told you to wear stupid pants, and you did! Happy prancing.

  Greene entereth the ballroom.

  WILL: Well, that’s that then. Thank heavens you got here in time to stop me, Kit. If I’d gone in there dressed like this I would have been laughed out of London. As it is, I must skulk away like a lowly oik and miss my chance amongst the folderols.

  KIT MARLOWE: Skulk away? Skulk away?! Will, mate, have you learnt nothing from what I’ve told you? A gentleman doesn’t skulk. (Removes cloak to reveal he be dressed alike in purple and yellow) He struts!

  WILL: Kit! You’d go to the prancings dressed like that? For me?!

  KIT MARLOWE: Course I would! You’re a mate! Besides, I quite fancied the skit. By the time cool Kit Marlowe’s danced a jig or two dressed like this, the whole of London will be wearing purple pants!

  WILL: How can I ever thank you?

  KIT MARLOWE: I’ll leave it with you.

  WILL: Right.

  The two identically clad friends enter the ball together.

  THE RED LION THEATRE – NIGHT

  The players be assembled.

  BURBAGE: And I hear Shakespeare made a huge success at the prancings after all. Perhaps now he will deign at last to give us his new piece.

  Marlowe entereth.

  KIT MARLOWE: Actually, Burbage, Will has a bit of writer’s block at the moment and he sends his apologies.

  BURBAGE: Oh.

  KIT MARLOWE: I, however, have been on something of a roll.

  BURBAGE: A new play? By you?

  KIT MARLOWE: It’s just a little thing I dashed off. I think you might like it.

  Marlowe produceth a script.

  KIT MARLOWE: The Jew of Malta. By Christopher Marlowe.fn25

  WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – NIGHT

  Will and Anne with their pipes before the fire.

  ANNE: I’m glad you gave that play to Marlowe. Kate was right. There’s enough intolerance in the world without clever dicks like you using it to thrill the mob.

  WILL: Perhaps you’re right.

  ANNE: You’re bigger than that, doll. You know you are.

  WILL: Yes, I think perhaps I am.

  ANNE: You should do another big Jew play some time, but give the Jew some sympathetic traits.

  WILL: A nice Jew? Bloody hell, pretty radical, Anne.

  ANNE: Well, I don’t say he has to be nice, just human. I don’t know any Jews myself.

  WILL: No one does. They were all thrown out of England by Edward the First and none has ever been allowed back in.fn26

  ANNE: But I imagine if you prick ’em, they bleed. If you tickle them, they’ll laugh just like we do.fn27

  WILL: These are bold thoughts, wife, but there may be something in it. I’ll let it gestate.

  John can now be seen, where he doth sit upon the privy pot before the fire.

  JOHN: Gestate? Gestate?! If ya mean ‘think about it’, then why not just say it?

  WILL: I’m not doing a double act with you, Dad. Go to bed!

  EPISODE 4

  LOVE IS NOT LOVE

  This episode from the Crow Folios solves one of the greatest mysteries in all English literature, that is, the identity of the Fair Youth and the Dark Lady of the sonnets. Unfortunately it doesn’t throw much light on any other aspect of the sonnets which are, frankly, pretty comprehensively incomprehensible. Some literary scholars believe Shakespeare must have been pisslingtoned when he wrote them.

  ROBERT GREENE’S OFFICE – NIGHT

  The odious Greene doth sit before his desk.

  ROBERT GREENE: Hmm, this upstart crow is ever more advanced in the world, beautifying himself in the feathers of a gentleman.fn1 In vain have I sought to find some chink in the armour of his propriety, some lewd scandal or base crime with which to dispatch him to the dungeon or the gallows. He claims to lead a blameless life. Married, sober, solvent, dull. But all men have their secrets, and when I find Will Shakespeare’s I will crush him like a walnut betwixt the iron buttocks of a titan.fn2

  WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY

  Will doth write. Bottom cleaneth. Kate doth flit about most daintily.

  WILL: Oh yes! Bloody yes! Nailed it! ‘And this by that I prove, love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.’ Finished! By Jupiter’s hairy armpits, bloody finished!

  KATE: Finished what, Mr Shakespeare?

  WILL: My hundred and fifty-fourth sonnet. The cycle be complete. Result! Oh yeah! Who the bard? Me the bard! Iambic pentameter is my bitch!

  KATE: I thought you were working on your wonderful star-crossed lovers play?

  WILL: I am, Kate, but a sonnet be like the idle wind. When it bubbleth within, you have to let it out. Besides, these verses be my ticket to immortality. Through them will I live for ever.fn3

  KATE: How so, Mr Shakespeare?

  WILL: I’m to have them published. Imagine it! A play is but a puff of air, a player’s stinking breath doth give it life, but no sooner is it spoke than ’tis lost amid the burps and fartle-barfles of the groundlings. But a published poem lives for ever. People love ’em. Particularly now these short and easily digestible sonnets have made the epic verse cycle look so last century.

  KATE: Young people have such short attention spans these days.

  WILL: And with publishing, kids have instant entertainment in the pockets of their puffling pants. You see them hanging around together hunched over a book of fourteen-line iambic pentameter thumbing away, transfixed like zombies. Not talking to each other. Not interacting socially. Lost to the world. ‘Get off your book of sonnets!’ cry parents up and down the land. ‘You’ll develop a hunch.’

  KATE: I do worry about how their brains will develop with so little variation of stimulus to challenge their imagination.

  WILL: Who cares! The point is sonnets are what the kids are digging and ever shall. Which is why I have for a time abandoned drama and switched to churning out poems. Thought I’d never get them finished. I’ve been struggling over this last one all morning. Couldn’t get the final rhyme.

  BOTTOM: So you gave up? Probably best.

  WILL: I didn’t give up at all. I found my final rhyme, and it’s genius. ‘And this by that I prove, love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.’fn4

  KATE: Except ‘prove’ doesn’t actually rhyme with ‘love’.

  WILL: Ah yes, but it nearly does, which is even better.

  KATE: Hmm, not really.

  BOTTOM: Yeah, it’s not even close. For ‘prove’ to rhyme with ‘love’ you’d have to say ‘pruv’, which would be just rubbish.

  KATE: Or you could say ‘loove’. ‘And this by that I prove, love’s fire heats water, water cools not loove.’ I think it could work, at a stretch.

  WILL: I don’t want it to stretch. A proper rhyme is boring.

  KATE: I honestly think people prefer their poems to actually rhyme, Mr Shakespeare.

  BOTTOM: Course they do! Like that brilliant one about the cock that couldn’t cluck.fn5

  WILL: Have you written any poems lately, Bottom? Can we expect to see a collection of a hundred and fifty-four sonnets attributed to the divine Bottom in the foreseeable future?

  BOTTOM: No.

  WILL: No? And why would that be?

  BOTTOM: Cos I can’t write.

  WILL: Exactly. Let all stand in wonder
at the world’s first illiterate literary critic.

  BOTTOM: I thought you said all critics were illiterate.

  WILL: Don’t get clever with me, Bottom.

  BOTTOM: Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I was thick. Which one am I – clever or thick? I’m confused.

  WILL: Thick, because you can’t see how good my rhyme is.

  BOTTOM: Cos it doesn’t futtocking rhyme!

  WILL: Which is the entire futtocking point! Now shut thee that which eateth food but grows not fat, speaketh words but be not wise, and burpeth loud but makes not gas.

  BOTTOM: Bloody hell, master, just say ‘mouth’. People aren’t impressed, you know.

  WILL: Sorry, must try harder. My bad!

  KATE: Come on, boys, let’s not fall out over a rhyme that doesn’t rhyme, even though it’s a rhyme. Have you really written a hundred and fifty-four sonnets, Mr Shakespeare? That’s amazing!

  WILL: Well, I find it therapeutic. They help me deal with my moods.

  BOTTOM: Like being in love with a bloke.

  WILL: I am not in love with a bloke.

  BOTTOM: You’ve written him a lot of poems.

  WILL: Not just him, my sonnets are inspired by twin muses. The mysterious fair youth—

  BOTTOM: Who you fancy.

  WILL: Whom I admire aesthetically. And my other muse, the sultry dark lady.

  BOTTOM: Who you absolutely definitely fancy.

  WILL: Yeah, I absolutely definitely do. Ever since Kit Marlowe introduced us.fn6

  KATE: But, Mr Shakespeare, you are a married man.

  WILL: I know that, Kate, which is why I’ve used my secret passion to create a lengthy series of sonnets, which I will then publish and thus become immortal.

  KATE: So much more satisfying to consummate a passion poetically betwixt pure white sheets of paper, rather than physically in the snowy linen sheets of love.

  WILL: Hmm. At least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself anyway.