by Ben Elton
KIT MARLOWE: Yes. And what is your problem?
WILL: Come along now, you two. Let’s not fight. Look, here’s an idea, Kit. I’m off to Stratters to write my new play. While I’m away, why doesn’t Kate teach you Italian? For then, you will have your lessons and she some occupation for her very large but frustratingly female brain.
KIT MARLOWE: Do you speak Italian, Kate?
KATE: Naturalmente che parlo italiano, grande idiota.
KIT MARLOWE: Oh right, that was Italian, was it?
WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – DAY
All the family are present. Will doth enter, muddied from his journey.
WILL: Father is returned.
JUDITH: Did you get us sugar sticks?
WILL: Yes, I got you sugar sticks. The way children eat sugar these days, by the time they are twenty, you’ll scarcely be able to count their ribs.
ANNE: Bad journey was it, love?
WILL: Just a touch, my sweet. There be a dispute twixt coaching management and staff. One side claimeth that a single worker is all that is required to shout ‘Giddy up’ and poke the horse’s arseington with a stick whilst also ensuring that there be sufficient turding straw laid about the carriage, while t’other side insists that two men must needs do the job for the comfort and safety of all. A situation which produces in mine little heart a tortuous duality of emotion. Naturally, of course, I support those who withdraw their labour in order to protect their jobs and maintain standards. And yet I canst not help sort of wishing they burn in hell till the end of time.fn4
SUSANNA: That’s right. Because it’s all about you, isn’t it? None of us ever have any problems. I hate you. Shut up!
WILL: Zounds, daughter, that’s an impressive explosion of random intolerance even by your volcanic standards.
ANNE: Don’t mind her, love. She’s a bit sensitive. It’s a boy.
SUSANNA: Mum!
ANNE: The springtime woodland gadabout approaches. Sue would like to go with this boy, but he’s shy and he won’t ask her.
SUSANNA: And of course I’m not allowed to ask him.
MARY: Well, I should say not. A maid ask a youth to gamble in the greenwood? All order would end. Chaos would be come again.
SUSANNA: Except actually, Gran, it wouldn’t.
WILL: Well, I’m not sure, Sue. Methinks perhaps there is a certain social covenant that prevents a kind of chaos. If girls started to act as boys then would there come a time in Albion where gangs of maids were seen of a Friday night staggering from tavern to tavern? Collapsing in the gutter and passing out in their own vomit?fn5
JOHN: Man must ever be the master of woman, because man is made in God’s image and he sits at the pinnacle of creation.
John Shakespeare doth make this statement while he sitteth upon the privy pot.
SUSANNA: I hate him!
ANNE: Never mind all that. So what are we going to do about Sue and the shy and timorous youth Darren?
WILL: Why, the answer’s obvious. We must invent some stratagem whereby he be persuaded to approach our Sue.
ANNE: Any bright ideas?
WILL: Anne, please, it’s me you’re talking to. Bright ideas are what I do. Susanna must woo this foolish boy by proxy. Dressing as her own cousin Shane, come a-visiting from Solihull. I can’t see how it can possibly go wrong.
JOHN: Funny how many of your ideas involve girls dressing up as boys. I think it’s a pattern.
WILL: It’s not a pattern.
JOHN: It looks like a pattern.
WILL: It is not a pattern. Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got a bloody and vengeful history to write. I’m planning a cheeky little Roman number called Titus Andronicus in which fourteen characters are brutally murdered and a mother forced to eat her own children baked in a pie. Our patron will love it.fn6
ROBERT GREENE’S OFFICE – DAY
Will doth sit before stern Robert Greene, petitioning for his play.
ROBERT GREENE: This will not do!
WILL: What do you mean, it won’t do? You, you told me to write a blood-soaked history.
ROBERT GREENE: Did I? Goodness, so I did. Sorry. My badlington. What I meant to say was don’t write a blood-soaked history. The Lord Chamberlain hates them. Rather, His Grace demands a light romantic comedy set in an exotic location.
WILL: But I’ve never written a play like that in my life. I wouldn’t know where to start.
ROBERT GREENE: Which is why I suggested the idea. You will fail in your commission, lose your new patron and be disgraced. A laughing stock.
WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY
Kate and Marlowe do practise their Italian. Bottom busies himself with his household work.
KIT MARLOWE: Vorrei comprare del pane, per favore.
KATE: Bene, Signor Marlowe. Bene.
KIT MARLOWE: Well, it’s all credit to you, Kate. Couldn’t have had a better teacher.
KATE: Si prega di parlare italiano, Signor Marlowe. You know my rules. We must parlare solo italiano. This house is not in London but Verona. I am not Kate, the landlady’s daughter, but La Contessa Silvia. And Bottom be named in the Latin style, as is the Italian fashion, and thus he is an A-nus.
BOTTOM: That’s been said before.
KATE: What is more, Mr Marlowe, you must be ever proficient in fine phrases. Flirty flourishes, gentle sighs. For Italian society would expect a noble gentleman to be well versed in the sweet words of …
There is a tremble in Kate’s voice as her eyes meet Marlowe’s. He doth sigh likewise.
KIT MARLOWE: Amore?
Marlowe speaketh in the manner of an aside, which by strict convention none can overhear.
KIT MARLOWE: Oh God, I think I’m falling for her, which is just raving tonto. But when she doth speak italiano, so damn saucy it makes me call for a more copious codpiece.
KATE: Aye, sirrah, amore.
Kate speaketh in the manner of an aside, which by strict convention none can overhear.
KATE: How can this be? I feel my pulse quicken and my boobingtons do palpitate most mightily. ’Tis very madness. And yet when he practises the sweet words of romance, I do totally find myself going diddly doodah.
Bottom speaketh in the manner of an aside, which by strict convention none can overhear.
BOTTOM: They’re doing a lot of talking to themselves. Which in my experience means things are going to start going very wrong.
KIT MARLOWE: Kate. Babes. Bambina.
KATE: Sì.
KIT MARLOWE: I love you. Like the wild pig I long to snuffle your truffle. Can I hope that you love me?
KATE: Yes! Yes! I love thee too!
KIT MARLOWE: Result! And yet late tonight I must to Verona. My ship awaits.
KATE: Aye, sirrah. ’Tis against such a day that we have studied here in our little Verona. I, your contessa, with A-nus always at your service.
KIT MARLOWE: Pardon?
BOTTOM: She means me.
KIT MARLOWE: Right, yes. Absolutely. A bit of a leap. Anyway, right now, I must to the tavern, there to meet my sidekick, Valentine. But I shall return tonight for one final farewell.
KATE: Until tonight, gentle Christopher.
KIT MARLOWE: Please call me Kit. I am your Kit. Oh, such irony. I, your Kit, must get off, when all I desire is for you to get your kit off.fn7
Kate doth sigh with love. Marlowe departeth.
KATE: Such a poetic soul.
BOTTOM: Kate, weren’t you listening? He said he wants to get your kit off.
KATE: Yes, but in a nice romantic way.
Will, the master of the house, returneth.
WILL: Clear the decks. Cancel all appointments. Greene has tricked me into writing the wrong play for our new patron. He wants a light romantic comedy set in an exotic location.
BOTTOM: What you gonna do? You’re absolute crap at comedy.
WILL: I am not crap at comedy.
KATE: You are a teeny bit crap at comedy, Mr Shakespeare.
WILL: How can you say that? It’s just
mad. Every single history I’ve ever writ has contained at least one hilarious scene in which poor people of low social status with amusing names like Doll Tearpants and Ned Snatchbutt acted stupidly. So funny. But I’ve only ever done comedy scenes. Never a whole comic play.fn8
KATE: Well, at least all will be peaceful here, Mr Shakespeare. My Italian lessons are done. Brave Kit must away on his country’s service.
WILL: Yes, I passed him on the stair. He seemed different, as if some strange and luminous light shone from within. Possibly he bit on a bad oyster and was struggling to keep his buttocks clenched till he didst make the shitting ditch. Child, there is a blush to your cheek and your boobingtons do palpitate most mightily. Have you been eating maggoty cheese?
KATE: ’Tis not maggoty cheese which doth palpitate my boobingtons.
BOTTOM: No, it’s a cheesy maggot.
KATE: Bottom! ’Tis not so.
BOTTOM: She’s only going diddly doodah over Mr Marlowe.
WILL: Kate, can this be true? Be you diddly doodah over Mr Marlowe?
KATE: Yes! And he is not a cheesy maggot. He’s just a bad boy who needs a good girl. And what’s more, he’s diddly doodah over me.
WILL: Kate, I’m sure he thinks he is but that’s Kit. He’s a gadabout. Like the newly discovered American hummingbird that doth flit from bud to bud, spreading wide the soft damp petals, plunging deep its beak and lapping full fervent at the nectar within using its curiously long and agile tongue.fn9
Kate doth sigh most ardently.
KATE: Gosh, Mr Shakespeare.
BOTTOM: You’re not helping, master!
MISS LUCY’S TAVERN –NIGHT
Marlowe attends Miss Lucy’s tavern in the company of Valentine, a handsome spy.
LUCY: So, you boys be off to Verona.
KIT MARLOWE: Aye, Mistress Lucy, but Valentine here travels separately so the papal spies may ne’er know he’s my sidekick.
VALENTINE: Yeah, except that wouldn’t happen, would it? Because in fact you’re my sidekick.
Valentine doth cuff Marlowe in a manner designed to irritate.
KIT MARLOWE: He’s my sidekick.
Marlowe doth cuff Valentine.
VALENTINE: So, sidey-balls. Got any cool new gear from the boffins at the tower?
KIT MARLOWE: Ooh, just a bit, side-dangle. An innocent ostrich feather? No no no. A lethal throw-dart. Witness buzzy bee on yonder flower.
A bee buzzeth about a flower. Marlowe doth pluck a feather from his cap and with it doth spear insect mid-flight.
VALENTINE: That’s fine. If you’re attacked by a bee. An innocent coddling pouch? No. A dangle-mounted blunder-banger.fn10
Valentine doth point his coddling pouch at the pot in which the plant doth flower and fire a shot which doth cause it to explode.
KIT MARLOWE: Yeah, well, they offered me that, but no room. My coddling pouch is already fully loaded.
LUCY: Boys, boys. Don’t have a dangle-off in my pub. Because, believe me, I will win. And I haven’t even got one.
Will enters all of a hurry.
WILL: Kit, thought I’d find you here. I was just rushing to the theatre but I wanted a quick word.
KIT MARLOWE: Not a problem. Valentine’s just leaving. He’s my sidekick.
VALENTINE: In your dreams, sidekick boy.
Valentine doth flick Marlowe’s nose and depart.
KIT MARLOWE: Such a sidekick. Anyway, Will, what’s up? Make it snappy, I leave for Verona tonight and I would first bid farewell to my true love.
WILL: Yes, that’s what I hurried over to talk to you about. This true love. That would be Kate, right? Our Kate.
KIT MARLOWE: Damn, she’s hot. Do you know, I always thought she was a proper Penny Pure-pants.
WILL: She is a proper Penny Pure-pants.
KIT MARLOWE: But you haven’t heard her speak Italian. Oh! The passion.
LUCY: Pah! If you think Italian be sexy-talk, you should hear a bit of Igbo. Ha! (Speaketh in an African tongue) Which means your chest is broad and your testicles large and hairy.
WILL: Phew. Thoroughly invigorating stuff, I must say. But look here, Kit. This crush on Kate. You know what you’re like. You fancy anything in a farthingale. What happens if while you’re away, you fall for some Italian tottling gobble and come home covered in garlic-flavoured love bites? If you break Kate’s heart, I’ll—fn11
In fury doth Marlowe take a knife to Will’s throat.
KIT MARLOWE: You’ll what?
WILL: I’ll write a pretty stern sonnet about it. You see if I don’t.
KIT MARLOWE: Fear not, Will. No, my roistering days are done. Never more will Marlowe the bonking rodent be. Let all know that he be Kate’s true kissy love gerbil.
LUCY: Ah, why not take her these roses from my garden, eh? All girls love flowers.
Now doth Marlowe sneeze most mightily.
KIT MARLOWE: Sorry, Lucy. No can do. See, I do suffer from the summer snottage. Roses in particular make my eyes water. Wouldn’t want my bird to see me blub now, would I? Thanks anyway. Settle the drinks, will you, mate? Love you loads.
THE RED LION THEATRE – NIGHT
Mr Burbage, Mr Condell and Mr Kempe do confront Will most impatiently.
BURBAGE: Where is your play, Will? Our new patron is impatient for our first production.
CONDELL: How about we bring back Richard for another run? I know the crowds miss my Margaret. I get so many letters.fn12
BURBAGE: I can’t imagine there’d be much public interest in digging up Richard the Third.fn13
WILL: Of course there would, but the Lord Chamberlain wants a comedy.
KEMPE: So play it for laughs. Job done.
BURBAGE: Play Richard the Third for laughs? What comedy is to be found in such an evil and grotesque villain?
KEMPE: Dark comedy, yeah? Edgy comedy, eh? You’ve done the groundwork making Richard a hunchback. Now you got to ramp it up.
CONDELL: Ramp it up, Kempe? How so?
KEMPE: Well, for instance, do a scene where everyone’s trying really hard not to mention his stoop, but they can’t stop themselves.
CONDELL: That would be funny, would it?
KEMPE: Er, yeah. Like, Richard’s with his knights, and Norfolk goes, ‘Oh, fancy a spot of hunch? Oh … sorry, I meant lunch.’ Brave, edgy, challenging taboos.fn14
WILL: You’re not changing a line of my Richard. It’s perfect. All four hours of it.
BURBAGE: Yes. But the Lord Chamberlain demands a new play now, Will.
WILL: I’m trying. He wants a light romantic comedy set in an exotic location and I’ve only ever done histories. Maybe Kempe’s right. Maybe I should do a comical history. Go with what I know. Henry the Sixth Part Four. Henry meets Joan of Arc at her trial and instead of burning her, takes her for a naughty weekend at Lyme Regis. Might work.
WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – NIGHT
Kate and Kit do canoodle most soppily.
KATE: O, how this spring of love resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day, which now shows all the beauty of the sun, and by and by a cloud takes all away.
KIT MARLOWE: You see? You see? Got to dig all that poetry stuff. I mean, so sexy.
KATE: It’s a bit of Mr Shakespeare’s, actually. Isn’t it perfect? Our love is like the bright sun and your leaving be a cloud upon it.fn15
KIT MARLOWE: Is that what that meant? I could never tell. Oh, you’re such a classy bird, Kate. Can’t believe I’ve wasted my life a-roistering and a-rogering when I should have been a-worshipping you. Let us exchange tokens so that, while we are parted, we may always know to whom our hearts belong.
KATE: Oh, Kit. Let’s.
Kate doth present a ring with a maidenly sigh of love.
KATE: My grandmother’s communion ring. She wore it on her finger. Then my mother on hers. And now I on mine. I gladly give it thee.
Now Marlowe reaches into his shirt and also produces a ring.
KIT MARLOWE: My grandfather’s nipple ring. He wore it through his
nipple. My father through his, and now I through mine. I give it to thee.
KATE: Hmm. Thanks. I’ll just put it on a chain around my neck, if that’s all right.
KIT MARLOWE: Well, suit yourself. But you are missing something pretty cool. So erotic when you play with it.
KATE: Really I’m fine.
WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – DAY
John and Mary sit beside the fire. The twins play. Anne doth help Susanna with the raiment of a boy.
SUSANNA: I feel stupid.
ANNE: Well, it’s your dad’s idea and he’s a genius so you’re going to have to give it a go. I can’t take another week of you moping and mooning about.
MARY: It is not proper for a young lady to go about in britches.
JOHN: I think he looks very fetching.
SUSANNA: Don’t be creepy, Granddad.
ANNE: Do you want this lad to invite you to the gadabout or don’t you? Now let’s go through it again.
Susanna doth attempt the deep soulless monotone of a gormless youth.
SUSANNA: ‘Hello, Darren. I’m Sue’s cousin Shane and Sue really likes you and I think you should ask her to the woodland gadabout.’ Mum, this is never going to work.
ANNE: It will, love, honestly. You look really convincing.
SUSANNA: So you think I look like a boy.
JOHN: A very attractive boy.
SUSANNA: Shut up, Granddad!
WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY
Will attempts to work while Kate standeth at the window cloaked in melancholy.
KATE: I just miss my Kit so much. I fear he will forget me. Ah me. Ah me. Oh woe! Ah me!
WILL: Seriously, Kate. You have got to stop pining. It’s very frustrating. Here am I trying to conjure up a brilliant plot involving parted lovers in an exotic foreign location and there you are making it impossible for me to think because you’re parted from your lover who’s gone off to an exotic foreign location. Hang on. Hang the futtock on.
A CONTESSA’S PALAZZO IN VERONA – DAY