by Ben Elton
CONDELL: Be gone, you foul sluttage, and find yourself a husband!
Defeated, Kate retreateth.
BURBAGE: So … theatre design complete. Now, if you want to be in on this venture, Will, you’ve got to invest. Four quid minimum shares. Are you in or out?
WILL: In, Burbage. I journey to Stratford this very e’en to get the cash. For there is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.fn23
All are most bemused at the Bard’s verbosity.
BURBAGE: Meaning?
WILL: Well … I’m j-just reiterating really that I’m going to Stratford to get the cash.
All return to their repast embarrassed.
KEMPE: His stuff’s too long.
CONDELL: Very long.
BURBAGE: Very, very long.
WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – NIGHT
All the family are gathered. Will doth enter.
WILL: God, what a journey! Lost a whole half day stuck behind a seriously unhelpful shepherd, who simply refused to pull his sheep over to the side of the lane. Let me tell you, when we finally did edge alongside, we all made some seriously rude gestures out of the carriage window. Which was satisfying, but considering it took three hours to pass him, rather tiring on the arm.
ANNE: Well, I’m glad you’re back, love. Your dad-job list is getting longer than a Pure-titty’s sermon.fn24
WILL: Aye, mistress, such was the longing I felt for thee, so fervently did tug the bonds of love, that I must needs forswear all other thoughts and hasten to thy side.
ANNE: What do you want?
WILL: The family savings.
ANNE: Our savings?
WILL: Yep. All of them. The whole four quid.
ANNE: But what about our plans to buy New Place? And Susanna’s dowry? She be thirteen and thus fast approaching marrying age. And she’s such a gobby little bitchington I really don’t think we’re gonna offload her for less than ten bob.
SUSANNA: Shut up! God, you’re so weird! Everything I do is wrong! Shut up!
ANNE: And I’ve told you ten times to move your cup and plate and tidy away your clothes.
SUSANNA: I’m busy! Why is it always me? Ask the twins. Shut up!
WILL: ’Tis true, wife. Unless we can happen upon a youth who finds selfish lethargy and impenetrable self-righteousness attractive, we may be stuck with her for quite a while.
SUSANNA: I did not ask to be brought forth into the world!fn25
ANNE: What do you mean, you want our savings?
WILL: I want them in order to double them. Treble them! Burbage and I intend to build a theatre on the South Bank.
Will taketh the family money box and looketh within.
WILL: Wife … nearly all the money’s gone!
ANNE: Our savings … stolen?!
WILL: Yes! We, we had four pounds and now there’s only one!
John sits shamefaced by the fire.
MARY: Oh, the shame of it. Your own son!
WILL: Mum?
MARY: He took it, your father. To think, me, an Arden married to a thief.
JOHN: Oh yeah, cos it’s all about you, isn’t it?
MARY: He’s been fined again. Illegal wool trading. He bought and sold sheepskin without paying the excise. Oh, the shame of it. The very shame!fn26
WILL: Dad, be this true? Are you become a criminal?
JOHN: Criminal? Oh well, depends how you define ‘criminal’.
WILL: Somebody who has broken the law.
JOHN: But which law? Real law or natural law?
WILL: Real law.
JOHN: What about all the bankers and traders who’ve tempted thousands to lose everything in a fruitless search for mythical El Dorados? They’re the real criminals.
WILL: Yes, if by ‘the real’ you mean ‘also’. None of this makes it all right for you to steal my life savings!
JOHN: Look, I was desperate. When you turned down my idea for a dad–son double act, it was the last straw.
WILL: This is my fault?
MARY: Well, I do think you might have considered the idea, William.
JOHN: I still think we can make it work.
WILL: I have to find three pounds in the next week, and shameless, self-indulgent, cross-generational fame-whoring ain’t gonna do the job!
ROBERT GREENE’S OFFICE – DAY
Will sits before Robert Greene.
ROBERT GREENE: So, Mr Shakespeare, you wish to invest, after all?
WILL: Yes, I … I have a pound and would hope for a great return, as you promised.
ROBERT GREENE: I also said you should hurry, sir. All the investments are made – the potatoes, the tobacco, the spices.
WILL: But what about those cases of syphilis whatnot you mentioned? You said there might be some of those left?
Greene turneth away and speaketh to himself in the manner of an aside, which by strict convention none can overhear.
ROBERT GREENE: And so does this upstart crow’s lack of education condemn him. I have him in my clutches. (Turns back to Will) Hmm … well now, let me see. (Produceth a ledger and studieth it) Yes, it seems in fact there are a number of cases of syphilis reported on a ship just docked.
WILL: Then I would beg you, let me invest in one.
ROBERT GREENE: By all means. Although, caveat emptor, for the purposes of my duty of care, you are aware of the nature of that in which you would invest?
WILL: Who cares? It’s been imported from America. We in England will instantly adopt anything from America. What is a potato but a starchy tuber? What is tobacco but a dried weed? What is a corn cob but a big yellow bobbly dildo? I would invest in the very next case of syphilis that be brought ashore.fn27 I have a pound.
ROBERT GREENE: I fear the minimum stake would be two.
WILL: I have but one.
Greene turneth away and speaketh to himself in the manner of an aside, which by strict convention none can overhear.
ROBERT GREENE: The trap shuts. (Turns back to Will) Why, sir, let me lend you another.
WILL: Really? You … you’d do that for me?
ROBERT GREENE: And for surety on the capital?
WILL: Name it, my house, my wife …
ROBERT GREENE: No, sir, nothing so onerous. Let us just say that for my one pound, I would want merely one pound back.
WILL: Well, that seems very reasonable.
ROBERT GREENE: Of your flesh.
WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY
Will prepares to depart for the theatre. Kate and Bottom be at hand.
WILL: So, the investment’s sorted, I’m off to the Red Lion. Burbage is conducting preliminary auditions for my Juliet and if I’m not careful he’ll choose the wrong boy.
Kate puts down her needlework.
KATE: Oh, Mr Shakespeare, let me try again. Please!
WILL: Kate, I’ve told you. In order to be a girl you must first be a boy.
KATE: Give me another go. Give me some hints. I … I just need to get deeper into character.
WILL: Well … all right. Supposing we go to the tavern where the new American potato tuber be served – diced into batons and fried.fn28
BOTTOM: Oh God, I love them!
WILL: Aye, all men do. Women also. And here, Kate, lies the rub, for without care you will be exposed.
KATE: How so, Mr Shakespeare?
WILL: When the diced potato tuber be offered, do not refuse to order your own, only then to steal it from another’s plate.
KATE: Oh my God, I so do that.
WILL: For then will all at table know you are a girl.
KATE: I’ll be so careful. Will you also lend me another suit of clothes so they don’t recognize me from last time?
WILL: All right. But we have to hurry!
Will, Kate and Bottom do depart for Will’s chamber most urgently.
WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY
Will, Kate and Bottom be in the bedchamber. There be a pile of garments hurled upon the bed. Bottom holds up further raiment. Wi
ll sitteth in frustration and despair. Kate be in an agony of indecision.
WILL: Kate, you must decide!
KATE: I can’t! I can’t!
WILL: Every garment from the wardrobe hath been hurled upon the bed and yet you still claim that you have not a single thing with which to robe yourself!
KATE: Full, round and plumpish all do make me look.
WILL: But, Kate, can’t you see, this is a case in point. As with the diced fried tuber batons, girls can’t stop being girly. ’Tis at the very core of their nature. A man would simply grab the first pair of puffling pants to hand, give them the sniff test and if they be not actually rotted with his dung, shove ’em on!
BOTTOM: I’ve only ever owned a single pair. I’ve had these on for fifteen years.
WILL: You must decide.
KATE: All right. Which do you think? These or these?
WILL: Er, those.
KATE: So you hate these? You think I look full round and plumpish in these?
WILL: No, you asked me, by Jehovah’s nostrils! You, you forced a choice upon me and then you turned that choice into a slight! Was ever there a thing so girly? This is impossible!fn29
KATE: All right! (Indicates the puffling pants she has on) I’ll go with these.
WILL: Finally! And actually, for what it’s worth, I think you look very nice in those puffling pants.
KATE: Yeah, right, as if. I do not. You’re obviously lying.
WILL: Oh God, look, Kate, I’m sorry but I’m not doing this. It’s quite clear that you can never convince as a man. And therefore there is no possibility of your ever earning the opportunity to convince as a woman. Now I have far more pressing concerns.
KATE: You wait, Mr Shakespeare. I will find a way to prove my worth.
WILL: Kate, gentle Kate, thou provest thy worth every day with thy joyous smile, thy girlish laugh and the soft tender grace that all Eve’s daughters bring to the rough world of men.
KATE: Oh, Mr Shakespeare, you are like he who gives support. Like that which sweetens all that it covers. You are a great poet and are like the heavens.
WILL: Kate, your words move me, but I would fain know their meaning.
KATE: Why, he who gives support is a patron. That which sweetens all that it covers be but icing. A great poet is a bard. And the heavens of course be starred. Put them together and you get …
WILL: Patron-icing bard-starred.fn30
KATE: I’ll leave it with you.
Kate does ever depart with her head held high.
BOTTOM: God! Her and her women’s emancipation stuff.
WILL: Mm, yeah. Talk about having a diced fried tuber baton on her shoulder.fn31
THE RED LION THEATRE – DAY
It be the auditions for a boy player to perform the role of Juliet. Will, with Burgage, Condell and Kempe, doth sit in judgement.
BOY ACTOR: I think I’m outward-going and with a great personality. It’s my dream to play Juliet and I really, really want it.
BURBAGE: Thank you. Next.
BOY ACTOR: But you haven’t heard my back story. My mum’s just got the plague! I was bullied at dame school! I’m bringing up my sister’s son!
BURBAGE: I said next!
BOY ACTOR: You’ll see. I’ll be a futtocking star and then you’ll look like dicks!fn32
Boy actor departeth in high dudgeon.
BURBAGE: Crappage! Crappage! They all be crappage! (Casteth aside his audition call sheet in high fury) At this rate our theatre will be built before we find our Juliet.
Condell can contain his resentment no longer.
CONDELL: But you’ve got your bloody Juliet. Me! Except, oh, that’s right, once an actor who plays women reaches a certain age, the roles dry up.
WILL: My dear Condell, Juliet be but a maid of thirteen.
CONDELL: And Romeo be fourteen, yet no doubt Burbage here will be playing him. Oh yes, it’s all right for actors who play men. They can be geriatric and still get romantic leads. We actors who play women are tossed away in favour of younger actors who play women.
BURBAGE: Enough of this carping. We’ve a play to cast and a theatre to build. Speaking of which, Will, have you your four pounds’ investment?
WILL: At any moment, Burbage. I expect news of my investment on the hour.
The servant Bottom arriveth.
BOTTOM: Mr Shakespeare, we’ve just got a note from the Board of Trade.
WILL: Ah, brilliant! (Taketh the note and openeth it) Not brilliant. I’m ruined. My investment was in twice-poxed sailors.
Robert Greene enters in triumph, accompanied by armed men.
ROBERT GREENE: Your ignorance condemns you, sirrah. Syphilis sive morbi gallici is but the recently coined term for the ‘French disease’, but since the name be conjured by the poet and astronomer Hieronymus Fracastorius in his Latin lyrical verse cycle, an oikish country bumsnot like you knows not of it.fn33
WILL: I’m sorry, Burbage. I’m broke and cannot invest in your theatre.
ROBERT GREENE: Oh, I think your problems are a little more urgent than that, sirrah. I would have my pound back and if it be not in monies then let it be in flesh!
WILL: But I have no monies.
ROBERT GREENE: Then these officers of the law will keep you safe until a court of law orders that my debt be paid.
BURBAGE: But, Greene, a pound of flesh cut from a man means certain death.
ROBERT GREENE: Hmm. Yes.
WILL: I’ll get a lawyer. I’ll fight this case.
ROBERT GREENE: Your case is hopeless, sirrah. I have my signed bond. There is not a man in London who will represent you. Take him away.
A COURTROOM – DAY
A full public court is in session. The clerk calls order.
CLERK: All rise for his honour Sir Robert Roberts, judge presiding.
All stand as the judge entereth.
JUDGE: Be seated.
All sit, save Will, who be the accused.
JUDGE: Who will speak for the prosecution?
ROBERT GREENE: I, my lord, will prosecute. Being a Cambridge graduate, I am of course a qualified lawyer.fn34
JUDGE: And who will speak for the defence?
ROBERT GREENE: I fear none, my lord, for this case is so hopeless that there be not a single man in London who will speak for this wretch.
Kate steppeth forwards, disguised as a male lawyer.
KATE: Not so, sir. I am a man and a lawyer. And I will defend this wronged man.
JUDGE: You, sirrah, who are you?
KATE: I am Cuthbert Capulet, your honour.
JUDGE: Do you wish to argue that Master Greene should not take his bond?
Will recovers from his surprise at seeing Kate so attired and does speak to her in the manner of an aside, which by strict convention none can overhear.
WILL: Go for it, good Kate. Nail him with some brilliant Latin stuff.fn35
KATE: On the contrary, my lord. If Mr Greene wishes to cut a pound of flesh from my client then he must, for it is his legal right.
WILL: What?!
JUDGE: Master Greene, you may extract your bond.
ROBERT GREENE: Oh, how sweet will be this unkindest cut of all.
Greene doth produce a terrifying knife and approach Will most sinisterly.
WILL: Please, Master Greene, the quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the earth beneath.fn36
ROBERT GREENE: Not even iambic pentameter can save you now!
KATE: Tarry a little. There is something else.
Greene’s knife is at Will’s throat.
KATE: This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood.
ROBERT GREENE: (Removeth the knife) I beg your pardon?
KATE: Take then thy bond. Take thou thy pound of flesh, but in the cutting it, if thou doth shed one drop of Christian blood—
ROBERT GREENE: No blood? How can I avoid it?
KATE: Exactly, sirrah. If you must take your flesh, you must needs also steal blood, and thus would my
client die.
JUDGE: Well, I must say, this does alter things a bit. Will you still take your bond, Master Greene? I shall be happy enough to try you straight away after for murder.
ROBERT GREENE: But, my lord, this Capulet’s argument is utterly spurious. Why, flesh contains blood. Flesh be not flesh without it. You do not visit the butcher and say, ‘A pound of beef and don’t forget to leave the blood in,’ do you?
JUDGE: Actually, that’s very true. Master Greene is entirely and absolutely right. Your whole pound-of-flesh argument is in fact wafer-thin rubbish. I’m sorry, Mr Shakespeare. You’re gonna have to let him carve a steak off.fn37
WILL: But I’ll die.
JUDGE: Mm, sorry. Right, lunch recess.
Will doth quake with terror as Greene approacheth with his knife. Meanwhile the judge produces a lunch box in which is contained … a salad. Kate does spy this abnormality.
KATE: A … a moment, Mr Greene!
Greene pauseth, his knife at Will’s throat.
KATE: Your honour, may I approach the bench?
JUDGE: Come.
KATE: Just wanted to say, nice gown. Really loving it.
JUDGE: Thanks so much. I thought it might make me look a bit full, round and plumpish.
KATE: So, a salad-eater who thinks a perfectly nice gown makes him look fat. Or should I say, makes her look fat. You’re a girl.
JUDGE: It’s true!
Judge Roberts takes off her beard to reveal the smooth round face of a gorgeous girly.
JUDGE: Ever since I first came to London as a young girl, I’ve known that it’s a man’s world. And to prosper I must needs become one. Please, do not expose me!
KATE: Don’t worry, I get it, I really do. Just let my client walk and your secret’s safe.
The judge puts her beard back on and bangeth her gavel.
JUDGE: Case dismissed!
ROBERT GREENE: What?!
JUDGE: Costs awarded against the plaintiff. Set at …
WILL: I need four quid.
JUDGE: Four pounds! (Now turning to Kate once more) I love your shoes.
KATE: Thanks, Judge Robert.
JUDGE: Please, call me Bob.fn38