Upstart Crow

by Ben Elton

  Marlowe sits in an antechamber with quill and pen, writing a letter.

  KIT MARLOWE: My dearest snugglebunny, I write from a contessa’s antechamber where I await her presence. I wish she’d get a move on, as I long to return only to you.

  Enters a servant.

  SERVANT: La Contessa di Verona.

  The Contessa Silvia enters. She is very beautiful. Instantly Marlowe forgets his letter, screws up the parchment and tosses it away.

  SILVIA: Welcome, Signor Marlowe. I hope you will allow me to practise my English on you.

  KIT MARLOWE: You can do anything to me you like, you captivating little pomodoro.

  SILVIA: My secretary is preparing a list of the Pope’s assassins, which I think will be of interest to Signor Walsingham. You will deliver it to him.

  KIT MARLOWE: Never mind the secret list. Will you have dinner with me tonight?

  SILVIA: Oh, Signor Marlowe. Well, that would be so nice, except I have already agreed to have dinner with another English visitor, Signor Valentine.

  Valentine enters. Marlowe’s visage be most furious.

  A CONTESSA’S PALAZZO IN VERONA – DAY

  Will and Bottom arrive in the garden of the contessa’s home.

  WILL: Unbelievable. When you buy a boat ticket to Verona, you expect to be taken to Verona. Not a tiny fishing village on the channel coast which, outrageously, the shipping line have renamed ‘Verona north’, with coaches laid on to cover the 750-mile transfer to ‘Verona actual’.

  BOTTOM: That’s what you get if you sail budget.

  WILL: Which actually turned out to be not very budget at all once you factor in the extras, like the outrageous indulgence of actually wanting to travel with a bag.fn16

  BOTTOM: Which they lost.

  WILL: I mean, how? Just how? They load the bag on, they take the bag off. Where is the window of opportunity to futtock that up?

  BOTTOM: Put on the wrong boat.

  WILL: Exactly. Even as we speak, my brand-new holiday puffling pants, which I was really looking forward to wearing on the piazza, are off to North Virginia where they will no doubt end up adorning the bottom of a scabby-arsed beaver trapper.

  Kate hurries into the garden dressed as a handsome youth in the finest raiment.

  KATE: Sorry, got distracted. So many amazing shops. Is this the contessa’s garden?

  WILL: Yes, Kate, it is. And here you are, as I instructed, in guise of gadsome youth. Good effort, by the way.

  KATE: Thanks. Knocked it up out of two curtains and a carpet.

  WILL: And now let us hide ourselves behind this small tree, which by strict convention will render us invisible. No doubt shortly Kit will come a-strolling and, when he does, you must approach him and become his servant. Thus not only will you be close to your love, but also should his gladsome eyes start to stray, you’ll be in the position to plead your own cause. Ever reminding him of his devoted Kate.

  KATE: Oh my God, it’s brilliant.

  WILL: It’s double brilliant because I’m going to take it all down and use it for my play.

  BOTTOM: But, master, Mr Marlowe’s known Kate for years. He’s going to recognize her the second he sees her.

  WILL: Of course he won’t, Bottom. She’s wearing puffling pants and a boy’s hat. He’s not clairvoyant. Shh, come on, quick.fn17

  Will, Kate and Bottom hide behind the small tree and are thus rendered invisible. Marlowe emerges into the garden, sighing most sadly,

  KIT MARLOWE: Oh, my lady love. Canst thou e’er be mine? Oh bugger, roses. That’s all I need.

  Now doth Marlowe begin to sneeze for he doth suffer most vexingly from the summer snottage.

  KATE: He weeps, he pines. He longs to get my kit off.

  WILL: Now’s your chance to get near him and pledge your own troth. Off you go.fn18

  Kate, all in boy’s garb, doth approach Marlowe.

  KATE: Ho, sirrah!

  KIT MARLOWE: Who comes? Sorry, bit blurry. These damn roses have made my eyes water. I do suffer from the summer snottage.

  KATE: (In the manner of an aside) Sweet. He doth seek to hide his love from me with the old summer snottage excuse.

  WILL: See? He didst not recognize her.

  BOTTOM: His eyes are watering. He’s got the summer snottage.

  WILL: It is not the bloody summer snottage. It’s because she’s wearing puffling pants and a boy’s hat.fn19

  KIT MARLOWE: Tell me, what is your business here?

  KATE: Why, only to serve you, my lord. I am but a poor English boy, far from home.

  KIT MARLOWE: (In the manner of an aside) Gadzooks, here’s a happy chance. A servant will be useful in my pursuit of the divine contessa. (To Kate) Very well, boy, you may enter my service and know straight away that I do love.

  KATE: Joy. (In the manner of an aside) He thinks only of me.

  KIT MARLOWE: See, my love comes.

  The contessa comes now a-strolling, looking hotter than fresh baked pie.

  KATE: What?

  KIT MARLOWE: Now hide we must, behind this small tree, which by strict convention will render us invisible.

  Marlowe doth hurry Kate behind a second tree while Shakespeare and Bottom still hide behind the first.

  WILL: I thought this might happen. Kit’s eye has lit upon another. Brilliant. That’s the Act Two opener right there.

  BOTTOM: Poor Kate. Her heart will be broken.

  WILL: Not for long. Soon will she reveal herself as a girl and Marlowe’s love will be rekindled.

  BOTTOM: Or not. Marlowe and Kate observe the contessa from behind their own small tree.

  KIT MARLOWE: ’Tis mine own Silvia. Be she not radiant?

  KATE: Aye, sirrah. Radiant indeed. And yet, be there no sweet English girl at home whom you hold in your heart?

  KIT MARLOWE: Well, there was one. A bookish Polly Pure-pants whom I thought I did love but I am so over her. La bella Silvia be my love now. So far have I plighted my troth in vain. Therefore I will send you in my stead. You are a charming, pleasant-voiced youth and ’tis certain Silvia will lend you her ear. Here. Give her this token of my love.

  Marlowe doth take out the very ring that Kate gave him and bids her take it to the contessa. Kate’s eyes do fill with tears.

  KATE: Oh, this ring, sir. But surely ’tis most precious to you.

  KIT MARLOWE: No, not really. Got it off a landlady’s daughter. Can’t really see her having anything valuable to give away.

  Kate be devastated.

  KATE: (In the manner of an aside) Save perhaps her heart.

  Will and Bottom do still observe the scene from their hiding place.

  WILL: Kit sends Kate to plead on his behalf with the very love token she gave him. Boom. Act Three just wrote itself.

  BOTTOM: What a total bastable.

  WILL: Don’t worry. When she reveals herself, all will be well and I’ll have my finale.

  BOTTOM: Or not.

  Sad Kate do as Marlowe has bidden and approacheth the contessa.

  KATE: Madame, forgive my intrusion but I bring word from my master, Christopher Marlowe.

  SILVIA: Signor Marlowe? What says he, girl?

  KATE: Boy. I am a boy.

  SILVIA: I see you are confused with your gender. Or perhaps just curious. It’s more common than people think. Well then, boy trapped in a girl’s body, what message have you for me?fn20

  KATE: Only that my master does love you, full well. And as a token of his love does offer you … this nipple ring, which didst pierce the nipples of his forebears.

  Now doth Kate offer the contessa not her grandmother’s ring but the ring Marlowe had given her. Marlowe doth observe this from behind the tree.

  KIT MARLOWE: Zounds. This lad doth have the very gift I gave Kate … It is Kate! Come in disguise, the better to be near me. And I’ve just sent her to declare my love for Silvia. Awkward.

  SILVIA: You will tell your master that both of my nipples be already pierced with finer jewels than this. Besides, I do love
another. My Valentine.

  Valentine entereth the garden.

  VALENTINE: And I love thee.

  Will, still observing from behind his tree, doth almost dance for joy.

  WILL: A second lover! Brilliant. I’ll certainly use that. And now will Kate reveal herself.

  KATE: You were right to spurn Marlowe, Contessa. For once he did love me.

  Kate removeth her hat and her hair doth fall about her shoulders most prettily.

  WILL: See how she doth shake out her hair most ravishingly. Now will Marlowe love her once again.

  KIT MARLOWE: Kate! I’ve been a fool. Forgive me.

  WILL: Boom, textbook stuff. I predict a double marriage.

  BOTTOM: Or not.

  VALENTINE: Silvia, will you give me your hand?

  SILVIA: Yes!

  KIT MARLOWE: Kate, will you give me your hand?

  KATE: Yes.

  WILL: What did I tell you?

  Kate puncheth Marlowe full in the face.

  SILVIA: Ah, the English foreplay. I’ve heard of this. Summon the priest. Bring the candles. Burn the incense. Let the twin wedding begin.

  Marlowe appears about to speak. Kate doth punch him again.

  WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY

  Will, Marlowe, Bottom and Kate are gathered in London once more.

  WILL: Back in Blighty at last with my play as good as writ. I shall use it all. The only tiny change is that in my play I’ll have both couples marry at the end, instead of only one while the other lover gets punched unconscious.

  KIT MARLOWE: To be honest, I think I kind of dodged a bit of a musketball. I mean, you’re a cracking-looking bird, Kate, but a little bit scary.

  KATE: I think I dodged a musketball too, Mr Marlowe. You’re a handsome chap but a shallow, cheating bastable.

  KIT MARLOWE: Guilty as charged. I want to thank you, Kate, for making me one of Walsingham’s favourites.

  WILL: Yes, it was clever of you, Kate, to notice that the contessa called for a priest and all the trappings of a Catholic wedding despite claiming to be a Protestant.

  KIT MARLOWE: Turned out she was a papist double-agent and a secret assassinist – a total plant.

  KATE: I still think you should have told your sidekick Valentine that he was marrying a mortal enemy of the crown.

  KIT MARLOWE: Yeah, right, got to do that.

  KATE: But really, Mr Shakespeare, are you seriously going to write a story where the heroine, having been completely cheated on and actually sent by her false boyfriend to woo another girl with the very ring she gave him, just takes the bastable back and marries him?

  WILL: Absolutely. That is how The Two Gentlemen of Verona will end.

  KATE: Honestly, it is not going to be one of your best.fn21

  WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – NIGHT

  Will and Anne do sit before the fire with their pipes.

  ANNE: Well done, Kate. I wouldn’t have taken Marlowe back either.

  WILL: Can’t put that in the play, though, wife. The Lord Chamberlain wants escapist romance, not gritty realism. What’s more, so do the punters. I’ve writ my first comedy. Now I plan to write a shed-load more.

  ANNE: Really, love? Do you think that’s a good idea?fn22

  WILL: Absolutely. Anyway, enough of my doings. How did Sue get on with the shy youth? Did my stratagem work?

  ANNE: Well, it sort of worked.

  Susanna doth enter, still in the attire of a youth.

  SUSANNA: Darren fell in love with me … as Shane.

  EPISODE 4

  FOOD OF LOVE

  Of all the revelations contained within the Crow Folios, this episode of the Bard’s life is perhaps the most stunning. Will Shakespeare invented the jukebox musical. It seems that had there been no Bard there would have been no Mamma Mia, no We Will Rock You, and no Jersey Boys. Who’d have thought? The producers of outrageously overpriced ‘souvenir’ programmes and merchandised mugs and t-shirts have much to thank Shakespeare for.

  WILL’S STRATFORD HOME – DAY

  Will and his family are at their ease.

  JOHN: I want to be a gentleman. I want to be posh. You promised.

  WILL: All right, Dad. I’ll petition the College of Heralds again.

  MARY: He’s been on about that coat of arms for years. As if they’d give one to him. He’s been before the courts and shamed us all.

  JOHN: It was only a bit of fiddling. They should go after the real criminals. The dodgy financial dealers.

  WILL: Dad, it is a matter of public record that you manipulated wool prices, fixed interest rates and reneged on personal debt. Exactly what part of dodgy financial dealer is it that you are not?

  MARY: He’s a common thief.

  WILL: Which I admit is not normally considered an impediment to ennoblement in England.fn1 But in this case, it is, because Robert Greene, who doth hate my gutlings, has made Master Herald. And Robert Greene would rather be personal hairdresser to a snake-headed gorgon than do me a good turn.

  JOHN: I want a coat of arms.

  WILL: And I’ll do my best, Dad. But I am quite busy, you know? The public’s demand for new plays is insatiable. And I have not a single solitary second to spare. I be like the springtime lark, who must needs build her nest, feed her young, tend her delicate plumage, whilst all the while singing merry songs that the fairies may dance in the greenwood glades.

  ANNE: Is that you making the point that you haven’t got a second to spare?

  WILL: Yes, absolutely. Underlining, so to speak. I’m so pushed that I barely have a moment to illustrate my observations with extended metaphor and fantastical whimsy. Theatre is booming and its demands are insatiable. My Two Gentlemen of Verona filled a gap but already Burbage needs another, and out is it stressing me most vexingly.

  ANNE: Well, I know you’re busy, love, but you absolutely cannot miss Hamnet’s school Latin recitation.

  WILL: Latin? Still? At eleven? In my day, we were on to Greek by then. The whole curriculum’s been completely dumbled down.fn2

  ANNE: The other dads come. ‘Where’s your Bill?’ the other mums say, and I have to make excuses.

  WILL: What … like, I have a life? That I exist independently of my children? How weird. How selfish. What is it with modern youth that they canst not kick an inflated pig’s bladder the wrong way up a sporting field but that both parents must be standing on the sidelines shouting, ‘Goodling job, poppet. Goodling job’?

  ANNE: A father should take an interest in his children.

  WILL: Why? Mine never did. That wicked old bastable didn’t so much as glance at me till I was fourteen and he could put me to work.

  JOHN: I wasn’t bloody interested.

  MARY: He wasn’t interested. Look to your son, I’d say. And he’d say, ‘Who?’

  JOHN: ‘Who?’ I’d say. Wasn’t interested.

  ANNE: All I’m asking is for you to get involved sometimes. It’s healthy for their emotional development.

  WILL: I don’t think it is. I think it’s corrupting. A whole generation is growing up who on reaching adult estate will scarce be able to let loose a fartle-barfle without their parents shouting encouragement and promising to bottle it for Grandma.fn3

  Susanna enters singing merrily.

  SUSANNA: ‘April is in my mistress’ face, and July in her eyes hath place.’

  WILL: Susanna, will you please stop singing ‘April Is in My Mistress’ Face’. Sing something else.

  SUSANNA: ‘Now is the month of Maying, when merry lads are playing.’

  WILL: But not ‘Now Is the Month of Maying’ or any other madrigal by Thomas bloody Morley.

  SUSANNA: Thomas Morley is the best madrigal writer of the English Renaissance. He is God. I would die for him. I’m a Thomatic.fn4

  WILL: He is not God, daughter. He is a sugar-coated ditty guffer, whose every song be two-thirds fa-lala-la-la, and the other third some arsing porridge about merry maids in May, naughty nymphs in November or juicy jugs in July.

  JOHN
: Never mind Thomas blooming Morley. What about my coat of arms?

  WILL: I’m working on it. Establishing a noble lineage is a process. You can’t fake four hundred years of family history overnight.

  ROBERT GREENE’S OFFICE – DAY

  Shakespeare doth sit before Robert Greene.

  ROBERT GREENE: Mr Shakespeare, heraldry is a complex discipline. You can’t fake four hundred years of family history overnight.

  WILL: Well, how long might it take, do you think?

  ROBERT GREENE: How long? Well now, let me see. In your case, hmm, well, give or take a week or two, I’d say eternity. The Shakespeares will never be gentlemen.

  WILL: But we could be tomorrow, if you’d just grant us that family coat of arms.

  ROBERT GREENE: Yes, if – such a tiny mewling word and ever the lament of the turnip-chewing country bumshank. If only I were higher born. If only I’d been to Cambridge University instead of leaving the town duncing school at fourteen to work in my dad’s glove shop.

  WILL: There is no terror in your threats, Greene, for I am armed so strong in honesty that they pass by me like the idle wind of a small … somewhat constipated squirrel.

  ROBERT GREENE: Hmm. Tails off a bit at the end, don’t you think?

  WILL: It will get there. Probably just needs a couple hundred more syllables.fn5

  WILL’S LONDON LODGINGS – DAY

  Kate doth read a book, Marlowe quaffs, Bottom sweeps. Will doth enter.

  WILL: Bottom, bring ale and pie. Ah, I see it is laid. Hello, Kit. You’re here.

  KIT MARLOWE: Yeah, I heard you were back. Thought I’d drop in for a quaff and a gorge.

  KATE: ’Tis apple season, Mr Shakespeare. Have a little fruit.

  Kate doth juggle apples most amusingly.

  KATE: Ale-up, ale-hazzah! Ale-diddly-doo. Juggling and such tricks are, as I’m sure you are aware, key skills for any theatre professional.

  WILL: Kate, please, I know you want to be an actor but I’m not in the mood to watch juggling. In fact, I’m never in the mood to watch juggling, an activity which I consider to be second only to mime in its somnambulistic tedium.fn6