Upstart Crow

by Ben Elton

  WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – NIGHT

  Will and Anne sit in comfort before the fire with their pipes.

  WILL: Kate saved my sweet, white, country arseington and no mistake. If the judge hadn’t turned out to be another woman I’d be a couple of giblets short of a playwright.

  ANNE: Yeah, well, it’s lucky you didn’t have to rely on her stupid pound-of-flesh argument. It’s bloody obvious flesh contains blood! If the end of one of your plays hinged on such a half-baked notion all would boo and jeer and call thee a total wankington.

  WILL: Mm, yes. Absolutely. Although it might work, you know, if I buried it in a lot of iambic pentameter.

  ANNE: Well, it’s your call, love. You’re the genius.

  WILL: Yes, wife, I absolutely am.fn39

  EPISODE 1

  THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER

  This episode in Shakespeare’s life was undoubtedly the inspiration for the Bard’s immortal Othello, which is generally considered to be one of his better efforts. These days thankfully the leading role is always played by actors of colour. If this long-overdue social advance had occurred fifty years earlier, Sir Laurence Olivier might have avoided making an absolute twatlington of himself with his exaggerated deep voice, made-up accent and weird walk, which he claimed was ‘how black people walk’.

  WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – DAY

  Will be staying home with his family. He taketh up his quill.

  WILL: So, here we go again. Application to the ancient College of Heralds for a Shakespeare coat of arms.

  MARY: I don’t know why you’re bothering. We tried this years ago and got nowhere then.fn1

  JOHN: Ah, but I was broke then and I’m not any more. Well, Will ain’t. Money talks and it’s gonna say – John Shakespeare, gentleman.

  WILL: Glaring contradiction in terms though that may be.

  MARY: If you really want to be a gentleman, you could start by not constantly fossicking about with your dangling tackle.

  SUSANNA: He hangs on to it while he’s talking to people. I’m like, please, just die!

  JOHN: Only having a bit of a fossick. It’s not a crime!

  WILL: One of the few things you do which isn’t.fn2

  ANNE: Why waste our money on trying to make that dirty old goat posh?

  Will doth ever confront his father.

  WILL: Because his shame reflects on me, wife. I am the most divinely gifted poet in Christendom and yet, because I’m also the son of the dodgiest geezer in south Warwickshire, all the other snootish poets do laugh at me and call me the oik of Avon.

  JOHN: Ha ha ha, brilliant!

  Will turneth away in great disgust.

  WILL: But this is England and so spurious, unearned social status will polish even the most stinksome turdington. By which of course I mean you, Dad. (Sits down) Thus must I bribe the odious Robert Greene that the Shakespeares may be gentlemen – or in Dad’s case, genitalman.

  ROBERT GREENE’S OFFICE – NIGHT

  Will doth visit the loathsome Robert Greene, who doth hate his gutlings.

  ROBERT GREENE: Give it up, Mr Shakespeare. You will never win a coat of arms. Your family be turnip-chewing country bumshankles without influence or connection. I doubt if you have so much as dined with a single person of rank or education in your entire life.

  WILL: It is true, Master Greene. Never did I dine with folderols nor ever sup with pamperloins, but I do have five pounds.

  Will placeth monies on the table.

  ROBERT GREENE: Mr Shakespeare, attempting to bribe an official of the crown is a criminal offence.

  WILL: Bribe, sirrah? ’Tis but a gift. A token of my esteem. A very generous token of my esteem.

  And so the Bard doth push the money closer to Greene.

  ROBERT GREENE: In which case, I accept it with thanks.

  Greene puts the money in his desk.

  ROBERT GREENE: Application denied. The door is behind you. Good day.

  WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY

  Will enters in high fury.

  WILL: Unbelievable! The lickspittle nincombunion kept my money and gave me nothing.

  BOTTOM: And him a gentleman. Who’d have thought it?

  WILL: Such corruption. To cheat a man offering an honest bribe.fn3 But I can scarce credit it. Can you credit it, Kate?

  Kate be buried in a book.

  KATE: What? Sorry, wasn’t listening. Caught up in my new book. Sir Walter Raleigh’s latest biggie, ‘The Discovery of the Large, Rich and Beautiful Empire of Guyana, With the Relation of the Great and Golden City of Minoa, brackets, Which the Spaniards Call El Dorado, closed brackets’.

  BOTTOM: Catchy title.fn4

  KATE: Isn’t it?! I just can’t get enough of these thrilling accounts of adventure and discovery. Queued all night for this one. Got it signed, too. Which, incidentally, Sir Walter charged for, which I thought was a bit off considering without us he’d be nothing.

  WILL: S … sorry, without who, Kate?

  KATE: Us. His fanaticals. We made him.

  WILL: This would be a man who, among other things, established the first English colony in North America, named Virginia for the Queen and brought potatoes to these shores?

  KATE: Yes, that’s right.

  WILL: And you made him?

  KATE: Absolutely.

  WILL: Kate, it be a man’s achievements that raise him up. Fame itself is ephemeral. It be like the tasty snack that a fond mother packs for the eager schoolboy against the hunger of the long afternoon.

  KATE: What?

  WILL: Gone by lunchtime.fn5

  BOTTOM: But you wanna be famous, don’t ya?

  WILL: As a poet, Bottom. If fame itself be more important than the means by which it be got, then will there dawn a day in Albion where we simply watch a gaggle of inadequates sitting about in a house and call them famous?

  KATE: I think that could actually be quite an interesting social experiment.

  WILL: It might start out that way, Kate, but it would soon degenerate into a fatuous game of who bonketh whom.fn6

  BOTTOM: Basically what he’s saying is if anyone ever wants his signature he’s gonna charge them for it.

  WILL: Yes, I am! And in fact I’m already laying the groundwork, signing my name only occasionally and spelling it differently each time to increase the rarity value.fn7

  Marlowe enters full merry.

  KIT MARLOWE: Morning all! I ascendeth the stairs, so best thee get this party starteth.fn8

  They laugh.

  WILL: Kit, splendid! Bottom, bring ale and pie!

  BOTTOM: Funny, after all your vast and innovative vocabulary, you still haven’t heard the word ‘please’. Manners maketh man, you know.

  WILL: Very clever, Bottom. Shaming me with my own phrase.

  KATE: ‘Manners maketh man’ is not your phrase, Mr Shakespeare.

  WILL: Isn’t it? I think it is.

  KATE: No, it isn’t. It was first quoted by William Horman in his Latin textbook Vulgaria, published in 1519, forty-five years before you were born.

  WILL: Well, perchance some naughty sprite didst pluck it from my brain, dance back through time to 1519 and whisper it in William Horman’s ear at the very moment he was writing his Vulgaria.

  Kate and Bottom look incredulous.

  WILL: Could happen.

  Bottom bringeth ale and pie.

  KIT MARLOWE: Actually I won’t bother with the ale and pie, Botsky.

  WILL: No quaffing or gorging? How so? Feel you like that which though it be not brandy doth burn the throat, though it be not stew doth contain bits of carrot, and though it be not a costermonger’s cap doth get thrown up in the street at New Year.

  KIT MARLOWE: Pardon?

  WILL: Sick, Kit. Are you feeling sick?fn9

  KIT MARLOWE: Oh right! No, no, not a bit of it. No, I’ve been quaffing and gorging all night. Out with my new best mate.

  Marlowe doth place his boots upon the table most arrogantly.

  WILL: New best mate? Surely I
be not usurped?

  KIT MARLOWE: Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Will.

  WILL: Phew!

  KIT MARLOWE: You’re not my best mate. I mean, you’re a mate, definitely. You know, good mate, not my best mate.

  WILL: Right, yeah, k-kind of how I like to play it too. (Attempteth the same casual pose as Marlowe but his legs be too squat and ungainly to do so with convincing swagger) Don’t wanna get in too deep. But tell us about this new friend of yours. Perhaps I might meet him and then we could be best mates together.

  KIT MARLOWE: Well, I don’t know, Will, I mean, the guy is pretty cool. Real player. You know, soldier, statesman, bona fide Moorish prince.

  WILL: No? Really? Actual African royalty?

  KATE: How fascinating! I am obsessed with stories of travel and adventure.

  KIT MARLOWE: Ah, well, this guy’s got loads of them. Name’s General Otello. Docked yesterday and me being the coolest doodle in town he sought me out.

  WILL: Oh, how I envy thee, Kit. You have all of London at your feet and I cantst not even style myself a gentleman.

  KIT MARLOWE: I thought you were gonna buy your family a coat of arms?

  WILL: Yes, but Robert Greene be Chief Herald and says my lack of connection amongst the dainties doth preclude all advancement.

  KIT MARLOWE: Gah, damnable snob. How about this – a snootish pamperloin like Greene be dying to meet the Moorish prince. Why not host a dinner, hm? I can bring Otello, you can invite Greene.fn10

  WILL: What a brilliant notion, Kit. If I host a dinner for foreign royalty, Greene could ne’er deny my status.

  Kate be most excited.

  KATE: Oh my God! An African prince? Coming here? Oh, please let me attend, Mr Shakespeare, please.

  WILL: Kate, sorry but no. This is a party to impress Robert Greene and you be but a landlady’s daughter. Although that is a point, Kit – what of girls? No dainty dinner be fit without the gentle sex and I know no posh birds at all.

  KATE: Oh, I think you do.

  WILL: No, don’t think so.

  Kate takes up a blanket and wraps it round her shoulders.

  KATE: (Putting on a posh voice) Why, sirrah, do you deny the Duchess of Northington? Then I think foul scorn upon thee. For though I have the body of a weak and timorous girly, I have the heart and stomach of a proper posh bird.fn11

  WILL: Gosh, Kate, that is so good. You really do sound to the manner born.fn12 What a brilliant performance.

  KATE: (Quickly) Well, as you know, performance is my passion because I really, really want to be an actress and it’s my dream.

  WILL: Stop it, Kate. Lady acting is illegal, but for one night only you will play the duchess.

  Bottom doth attempt to act as if to the manner born.

  BOTTOM: And I can act like a lord. What what what!

  WILL: Mm, except we’ll also need someone to wait at table, so perhaps you could break the habit of a lifetime and act like a servant?

  WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – NIGHT

  Dinner is laid. Kate doth enter resplendent in a beautiful gown.

  KATE: How do I look in my gown?

  WILL: Wonderful, Kate. The very image of an alluring young posh bird. Better even than when Mr Condell wore it as Margaret in my Henrys.

  KATE: Which is amazing really. What with him being a middle-aged man and me being only a real girl, you’d think he’d have the edge.

  WILL: I can’t change the law, Kate.

  KATE: But thou darest not even try, despite all of the false promises you have made to me. ’Tis certain you will never play a female role yourself.

  WILL: Well, I dunno. I have been deemed a goodly actor in my day.

  KATE: Ah, but the law states that to play a girl one must have bolingbrokes and you have yet to grow a pair.

  WILL: I will not quarrel on this special e’en, Kate. Soon we are to meet Prince Otello. I’ve been thinking I might use him in a play. I feel sure I could build a most wonderful drama around such a wild and passionate figure.fn13

  KATE: Why do you presume Prince Otello will be wild and passionate?

  WILL: Because he is African, obviously! Thus will he be primal, organic … I mean, lovely, of course. Just more …

  KATE: Organic?

  WILL: Exactly. In England we trace our culture back to the classical models of Greece and Rome, but the Moor is untouched by the example of ancient civilizations. Like the Scots.fn14

  KATE: Well, if we’re talking ancient civilizations there’s Carthage, obviously.

  WILL: What?

  KATE: Carthage, where the Carthaginians came from.

  WILL: Yes, Kate, I imagined that Carthaginians came from Carthage. They’re not gonna hail from Stockton-on-Tees, are they? But … what about them?

  KATE: Well, they were an ancient African civilization who led the world in dyes and textiles and their general Hannibal terrorized Rome.

  WILL: Oh right, those Carthaginians? Well, obviously there are exceptions.

  KATE: Or the Numidians. Carthage’s greatest rival, who sided with the Roman republic in the second Punic war. They were Africans too.

  WILL: Really? Numidians, you say?

  KATE: And then of course there’s the Egyptians.

  WILL: Well yes, but the ancient Egyptians weren’t Africans, obviously.

  KATE: You are aware that Egypt is in Africa, Mr Shakespeare? I mean, I only ask since I happen to know you think Verona is a port and Bohemia has a coast.fn15

  WILL: Ah no, methinks you overstate your case. Egypt may be in Africa, but the ancient Egyptians weren’t African.

  KATE: You mean, they were white?

  WILL: Well … perhaps lightly tanned.

  KATE: But when their civilization stopped being so glorious they suddenly started getting darker?

  WILL: Kate, the ancient world played by different rules. Christ himself hailed from Judea and yet, as everybody knows, he was blond with blue eyes.

  KATE: The only blond and blue-eyed man in the whole of the Middle East?

  WILL: Don’t be ridiculous! Of course not. His disciples were blond and blue-eyed too. Except Judas who was dark and swarthy. Look at any painting.fn16

  BOTTOM: The Virgin Mary in our church is a ginge.

  The odious Robert Greene doth enter, all strutting pride.

  ROBERT GREENE: I am come as bidden, Mr Shakespeare. Full surprised though I be for we are not friends.

  WILL: Come now, Greene, I know we have fought in the past, but like the sweet-nosed maid who doth follow the fully loaded turding cart, I would put all that behind me.

  Greene spies Kate in her expensive gown.

  ROBERT GREENE: And who, pray, is this?

  WILL: Why, the noble Duchess of Northington, Mr Greene.

  ROBERT GREENE: Charmed, I’m sure. (Now speaketh in the manner of an aside) Step aside will I a moment and speak my innermost thoughts, which by strict convention cannot be heard. Does the crow think me a fool? Why this duchess is none but the landlady’s daughter, no doubt so attired as to make a show for the Moor. I’ll not expose the sluttage yet. Knowledge is power! (Turneth once more to the maid Kate) Do you know Prince Otello, your grace?

  KATE: I have not had the pleasure but do long to. What proper posh bird does not go diddly doodah over the prospect of a prince?

  ROBERT GREENE: Yes, of course. (Once more speaketh in the manner of an aside) So this unworthy girl would set her cap towards the Moor. Well, she is passing pretty and he just returned from war and longing no doubt for honeyed words and soft caresses. ’Tis clear, ’tis certain, a soldier’s blood will run hot in sight of this ripe peach, and where there is passion there is always jealousy.

  Marlowe entereth, followed by Otello the Moorish prince.

  KIT MARLOWE: Pray, bid welcome to General Otello, Prince of Morocco.

  OTELLO: Greetings! Men who share the blood of beasts are brothers. My assegai will kill your enemies. (Waveth his spear) My shield will protect your women. My wildebeest will give you milk and fertilize your h
erb gardens.

  WILL: Wow! Thanks!

  Will and Kate engage in conversation in the manner of an aside, which by strict convention none can overhear.

  WILL: So not wild and passionate at all then?

  KATE: Oh goodness, Mr Shakespeare! Otello? More like Hotello! He really is orgasmic!

  WILL: You mean organic?

  KATE: I kinda think I know what I mean.

  Will turns once more to Otello.

  WILL: General, allow me to introduce you to Mr Greene, a great and renowned poet, whose sublime play Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay is, I imagine, in constant repertory at the Marrakesh Grand.

  OTELLO: A poet. I am honoured. Rude am I in my speech and little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.

  KIT MARLOWE: Ha, don’t believe a word of it! This bloke’s got more gob than a Cheapside renting knave.

  ROBERT GREENE: Well then, perhaps the prince would regale us with a tale or two. (Once more speaketh in the manner of an aside) And so do I tempt the Moor to speak of his alarums and adventures. For such romantic stuff will no doubt turn the strumpet’s head.

  OTELLO: You wish to hear of my alarums and my adventures?

  KIT MARLOWE: Well, you know, maybe another time?

  OTELLO: The battles, fortunes, sieges that I have passed?

  KIT MARLOWE: (Turneth to Will) Grab a drink, mate, this could go on all day.

  OTELLO: Wherein I’ll speak of most disastrous chances, of moving accidents by flood and field, of hairbreadth ’scapes in the imminent deadly breach.fn17

  WILL: Grab a drink, Kit? Grab my quill! This is blooming good stuff. I need to get some of it down.fn18

  KATE: (Speaketh to Bottom in an aside. Full lusty is her manner) Have I gone all red? Tell me if I go all red.

  OTELLO: Of the cannibals that each other eat. The anthropophagi, and men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders.

  WILL: This is brilliant. How do you spell ‘anthropophagi’?

  OTELLO: But perhaps I speak too much?

  KIT MARLOWE: Well, you know, less is more.

  KATE: Oh no, General, do go on.

  Otello spies Kate for the first time and full smitten is he.