The Libertine (NHB Modern Plays) Read online

  BARRY. ‘The serving you, my happiness secures,

  I’m only somthing by my being yours;

  Since equally with yours, my hopes were crost,

  When in your Lover I a Brother lost;’

  JANE. The Pit went for her like a dog to a raw throat.

  KEDGEO. Dog!

  VIZARD. Bitch!!

  ALCOCK. Dragon!!!

  JANE. She stood and took it, but then, had she scuttled off there would have been no wages.

  All but ROCHESTER hoot and jeer. Suddenly the sound cuts out and we see BARRY through his eyes.

  BARRY. ‘Then like an Orphan destitute and bare

  Of all but misery and sad despair,

  Your Kindness gave my yeelding spirits rest,

  And rais’d me to a dwelling in your breast:

  Then ought I not in all my soul resign,

  To ease her griefs that kindly pitty’d mine?’

  ROCHESTER. ‘Then ought I not in all my soul resign…’

  The AUDIENCE chant ‘Off! Off! Off!’

  JANE. I almost felt sorry for the stuck-up bitch.

  The tiring house. BARRY comes, sits down, and looks at herself in the mirror. She wipes angrily at her face. LUSCOMBE comes in, holding a note.

  BARRY. Yes, I know!

  LUSCOMBE. No, you do not know.

  BARRY. I know!

  LUSCOMBE. Well, if you know, why do you persist in doing the opposite?

  BARRY. Because –

  LUSCOMBE. Because you are a sort I have met before. You are a sort who thinks they are above it. Well, they are not above it, what they are above is themselves. If girls like you do not do what they’re told, it is all up with our sex on the stage. You cannot ignore the advice of them that know. Them that know know because them that went before told them. And if them that come after don’t heed, then there will be others that will and here is a note from Mr Betterton which I suspect says as much.

  LUSCOMBE gives her the note. She does not open it rightaway. HARRIS comes in, towelling himself.

  Teach her something, Mr Harris, she will take nothing from me.

  HARRIS. Lizzie, the work we did beforehead –

  LUSCOMBE. Tell her –

  HARRIS. Did it mean nothing to you?

  BARRY. That is correct, Mr Harris.

  ETHEREGE and DOWNS come in.They have come backstage to ogle the actresses.

  HARRIS. Molly, I cannot teach those who are not disposed to learn. Mr Etherege, how do you do, sir?

  BARRY opens the note, reads it, crumples it.

  ETHEREGE. Well, Mr Harris, well.

  HARRIS. Did you not care for the play?

  ETHEREGE. Oh, the play, the play was well enough.

  DOWNS. And most of the acting too was fine, Mr Harris –

  At once ROCHESTER sweeps in followed by ALCOCK.

  ROCHESTER. Molly. Ah. Mrs Barry.

  LUSCOMBE. On your feet, Lizzie.

  BARRY stands and curtsies, the ordeal unending.

  ROCHESTER. I am the Earl of Rochester and I bring communication from Mr Betterton.

  BARRY. I have had such already.

  LUSCOMBE (to ETHEREGE). She has been dismissed.

  ROCHESTER hands her a note.

  ROCHESTER. This is quite another.

  BARRY reads the note. She looks at ROCHESTER.

  BARRY. You have obtained a reprieve for me.

  ROCHESTER. Yes, madam, but there is a price.

  BARRY. What price?

  ROCHESTER. This is your first season on the London stage?

  BARRY. It is, my lord.

  ROCHESTER. And the work is pleasing to you?

  BARRY. I do not please the house and you know it. They goad me worse each day.

  ROCHESTER. What is the use in pleasing apes? You pleased me. What need have you of pleasing others? Speak me that speech again.

  BARRY. What speech?

  ROCHESTER. ‘The serving you.’ I would hear it again, now. That is the price of your reprieve.

  BARRY settles herself and plays the speech.

  BARRY.‘The serving you, my happiness secures,

  I’m only somthing by my being yours;

  Since equally with yours, my hopes were crost,

  When in your Lover I a Brother lost;

  Then like an Orphan destitute and bare

  Of all but misery and sad despair,

  Your Kindness gave my yeelding spirits rest,

  And rais’d me to a dwelling in your breast:

  Then ought I not in all my soul resign,

  To ease her griefs that kindly pitty’d mine?’

  ROCHESTER. You perform that speech with such a sense of truth.

  BARRY. Thank you, sir.

  ROCHESTER. But I would have conversation with you.

  BARRY. Yes, my lord.

  ROCHESTER. I mean on the subject of your acting. I have much to impart to you.

  BARRY. I shall be thankful for it.

  ROCHESTER. First of all, Mrs Barry, you must acquire the trick of ignoring those who do not like you. In my experience, those who do not like you fall into two categories: the stupid, and the envious. The stupid will like you in five years’ time, the envious never. You are already the most fascinating actress on the London stage. With my training you will become the best. I shall come to the theatre tomorrow.

  BARRY. Come as you wish, I am always here.

  BARRY goes. LUSCOMBE follows.

  ETHEREGE. What are you up to, Johnny? She can’t act.

  DOWNS. She has neither the cadence of the heroic nor the posture.

  ROCHESTER. Oh, you beat your critical clappers on the bell of your self-importance, do you, gentlemen?

  ETHEREGE. She does everything too early or too late, sometimes both at once.

  ROCHESTER. I will wager you a hundred guineas she will become the finest actress on our stage.

  ETHEREGE. This is the prick talking, not the head, knob her and have done.

  ROCHESTER. Is it a wager?

  ETHEREGE. My dear friend, you do not have a hundred guineas.

  ROCHESTER. Is it a wager?

  ETHEREGE extends his hand.

  HARRIS. He does not have to share a stage with her.

  HARRIS flounces out.

  ETHEREGE. Well, Billy, there ain’t much to be had here.

  DOWNS. Let’s tope a quart at Oxford Kate’s and sniff the traffic.

  ETHEREGE. Tope’s the word. Johnny, we’ll keep a glass for you.

  ETHEREGE and DOWNS go.

  ROCHESTER. Alcock.

  ALCOCK. My lord.

  ROCHESTER. Something rotten has got into my guts.

  ALCOCK. I trust it is not me, my lord.

  ROCHESTER. No, Alcock, it is not.

  ROCHESTER goes. Lights fade quickly around ALCOCK.

  Scene Three – Pall-Mall

  ALCOCK. The name of the game Pall-Mall is derived from two Italian words: palla meaning ball and maglio meaning mallet. See, I may look like a bit of an arsehole but I graze on scraps of erudition and regurgitate them at surprising moments. It’s a marvellous recreation for the mornings, Pall-Mall, tip-top. In fact, it’s the poxiest game ever invented. But it keeps the nobs out in the air long enough to raise an appetite for the dinner that will be plonked in front of them an hour later.

  ELIZABETH MALET comes on. ALCOCK bows and hands her a mallet.

  Uno maglio, signora.

  MALET. Alcock. That is your name, is it not?

  ALCOCK. It is, my lady.

  MALET. Have you seen my husband?

  ALCOCK. He is drinking, madam, with Mr Etherege and young Mr Downs.

  MALET. I am unused to my husband’s London habits. Is it not too early to be drinking?

  ALCOCK. No, madam. In my short employment with his lordship I have already observed that when it comes to drinking it is never too early and never too late.

  MALET. In the country…

  ALCOCK. Yes, my lady?

  MALET. In the country he behaves dif
ferently.

  Immediately, ROCHESTER, ETHEREGE, DOWNS and JANE arrive on one side of the stage, while KING CHARLES and SACKVILLE arrive on the other.

  SACKVILLE. The King!!

  ROCHESTER and CHARLES now indulge in a passage which is staged for the ONLOOKERS – a kind of press conference to show that ROCHESTER is back in favour.

  CHARLES. My Lord Rochester. I believe the English are the most intractable people upon earth. You would find them so were you in my place and obliged to govern.

  ROCHESTER. In Your Majesty’s place I would not govern at all. I would send for my good Lord Rochester and command him to govern.

  CHARLES. But the singular modesty of that nobleman!

  ROCHESTER. He would certainly follow Your Majesty’s bright example! How gloriously would the two grand social virtues flourish under his auspices!

  CHARLES. Oh, prisca fides! What can these be?

  ROCHESTER. The love of wine and women.

  CHARLES. God bless Your Majesty!

  ROCHESTER. These attachments keep the world in good humour, and therefore I say they are social virtues. Let the Bishop of Salisbury deny it if he can –

  CHARLES. He died last night; have you a mind to succeed him?

  ROCHESTER. On condition that I shall never be called upon to preach on the thirtieth of January nor on the twenty-ninth of May.

  CHARLES. You object to the first, it being the anniversary of my father’s martyrdom and therefore a melancholy subject, but the other is the anniversary of my Restoration –

  ROCHESTER. And therefore a melancholy subject too.

  A pause. ROCHESTER has gone too far.

  CHARLES. That is too much –

  ROCHESTER. Nay, I only mean that a sermon would be a little too grave for the day. Nothing but the indulgence of the two grand social virtues could be a proper testimony of my joy upon that occasion.

  CHARLES. Thou art the happiest fellow in my dominions! Let me perish if I do not envy thee thy impudence.

  ROCHESTER bows. The ONLOOKERS,relieved, applaud.

  Lord Buckhurst. Pick the teams. By your rank, you must be the other captain. I will have her – (Points to JANE.) on my side.

  SACKVILLE organises teams. They toss up, commence play and follow the first hits off the stage. CHARLES takes ROCHESTER aside to speak privately.

  The verbal gymnastics are still up to snuff.

  ROCHESTER. A bottle of claret either side of breakfast is ever a spur to a man’s wit.

  CHARLES. I’d like to explain something, Johnny. When you first came to Court, you were a boy of eighteen and I was only five years into the reign. A certain flippancy, a little whiff of impertinence, this was acceptable. But we’re ten years further down the road and the view is different, d’y’see?

  ROCHESTER. You’re not going to offer me a job, are you?

  CHARLES. No, I’m not. I could have ignored your pornographic poem but I made a fuss about it for a specific reason. The tone has to change. The way the reign appears. I’ve got another fight coming up with those Parliament bastards. Money. You know I can’t keep the country going on what they give me, but I don’t want to lock antlers with them head-on the way my father did.

  ROCHESTER. Head-on, that’s quite a good –

  CHARLES. I want you with me. I want you to take a new role.

  ROCHESTER. At the Playhouse?

  CHARLES. No, the House of Lords. Between our families there have always been duties and rewards. Your father spirited me out of England when my life was at stake. So I looked after him and after you.

  ROCHESTER. You put me in the Tower –

  CHARLES. And I let you out.

  The PLAYERS cross the stage.

  The time has come to pay your dues. You can scribble your lampoons, you can shag your whores but keep it in the background. People listen to you. I want you on my side. Anyone can oppose, it’s fun to be against things, but there comes a time when you have to start being for things as well.

  ROCHESTER. What do you want?

  CHARLES. I want a poem, a play, something of substance. You’re better than all of them, Dryden, Sedley, the whole gang. I’ll give you five hundred guineas and you will give me a major work of literature, something profound that will stand as a monument to my reign.

  ROCHESTER. When would you like it, Friday?

  CHARLES. Don’t fuck it up, John, I love you.

  CHARLES joins the game. ROCHESTER stands alone, MALET runs on, holding a mallet.

  MALET. We should mark the front lawn at Adderbury for Pall-Mall. I had always thought it a foolish game.

  ROCHESTER. Depends who you play it with.

  MALET. But is it not irregular? That the King plays with a common prostitute but not his wife.

  ROCHESTER. The Portuguese have little flair for outdoor pursuits. Except navigating, of course.

  MALET. I mean that the etiquette of it is singular.

  ROCHESTER. i know what you mean!

  Pause.

  MALET. You must always be Ace, King and Jack, my dear. But Heaven has not dispos’d your cards so. You are not happy when I am with you in London.

  ROCHESTER. I am happier than I know. But the circumstances of this visit –

  MALET. The Playhouse. Something passed at the Playhouse.

  ROCHESTER. The Playhouse made me melancholy.

  MALET. Your eyes shone on your return.

  ROCHESTER. Only because I had seen my friends.

  MALET. Well then. You must make the pleasures you have do and not be yearning for pleasures that are past.

  ROCHESTER. I hate the thought that any pleasure may be past.

  MALET. It is not for you to love or hate, but for you to know and accept. The loves of eight and twenty cannot compare with the loves of seventeen. You must love what is near to hand and not hanker after what is distant.

  ROCHESTER. Yes. Yes, I must.

  A moment. Then a shout from the PLAYERS.

  ETHEREGE. My Lord Rochester. It is your shot, you know.

  ROCHESTER. I’m not playing, George.

  CHARLES. Oh, but you are, John. You are if I say.

  MALET hands the mallet to ROCHESTER. He goes off to play. Lighting narrows around her.

  MALET. He had gathered a party of armed men at Charing Cross to ambush me. I was eighteen and worth two and a half thousand pound a year. His underlings bundled me from my own coach and six into another and rattled me away on the road to Uxbridge. ‘We take you to my Lord of Rochester,’ one of them said and at once I was filled with a warm content. This was not a rape or a bid to abduct me for my fortune. It was a personal message. Of all the rich young lords who sniffed at my hand and my estate, he was the only one who thought to circumvent my guardians and address me in person. And so I dug in my heels and would not marry the others but held out for the one who had written me such a hot-headed note and been committed to the Tower for it. I married my lord because he was a romantic.

  Lights fade to blackout.

  Scene Four – Training Barry

  Dorset Gardens Theatre, late morning. ROCHESTER is led onto the stage by LUSCOMBE, jangling her keys.

  BARRY is there.

  LUSCOMBE. I can’t let you have long on stage, I must see to the preparation of Tamburlaine for this afternoon. I do not take much to Tamburlaine. It is a deal of setting up, three hours of rant and kettledrums and then a deal of taking down. I shall not dip my beak in my dinnerbowl till past eight o’clock.

  LUSCOMBE goes. BARRY and ROCHESTER stand on either side of the stage, a big distance between them.

  ROCHESTER. Mrs Barry.

  BARRY. My Lord Rochester.

  ROCHESTER. I am come, as I said I would.

  BARRY. I thank you for speaking to Mr Betterton yesterday.

  ROCHESTER. I am a patron of this theatre, it was my duty.

  BARRY. No, my lord, I am indebted to you. (Pause.) Are you not sad to be returned to London? The country must be very fine now it is the spring.

  ROCHEST
ER. It has many irritations as well. Now, Lizzie, I come to further your training and I would make a start.

  BARRY. Will you have me lift my skirt or do you have a mind to raise it by your own endeavours?

  ROCHESTER. I am come to train you in your acting.

  BARRY. So you said when first we met. Your reputation being what it is, I thought you meant something else.

  ROCHESTER. I have, I hope, many reputations. I am come, I say, to train you.

  BARRY. Well, I am indebted to you, sir, but I never in my life heard you spoken of as an actor.

  ROCHESTER. That does not deter me from spreading my insights to others.

  BARRY. I thought it would not.

  ROCHESTER. Then we shall begin?

  BARRY. It seems we shall.

  ROCHESTER. You are familiar with the plays of Mr Etherege?

  BARRY. There are but two, my lord.

  ROCHESTER. Not for long, I fear. The Comical Revenge; or, Love in a Tub. You have seen Mrs Betterton playing Graciana?

  BARRY. Yes, I am her understudy.

  ROCHESTER. And… you have an opinion of her performance?

  BARRY. Mrs Betterton has a very pleasant speaking voice.

  ROCHESTER. Indeed. Act Two, Scene Two. I shall play Beaufort.

  Conversationally, ROCHESTER slips into the scene, so that we barely notice the change. BARRY, however, immediately hits a more declamatory register and a tone of sweet innocence.

  ‘Graciana, why do you condemn your love?

  Your beauty without that, alas! would prove

  But my destruction, an unlucky star

  Prognosticating ruin and despair.’

  BARRY. ‘Sir, you mistake; ’tis not my love I blame,

  But my discretion: here the active flame

  Should yet a longer time have been concealed;

  Too soon, too soon I fear it was revealed.

  Our weaker sex glories in surprise,

  We boast the sudden conquests of our eyes:

  But men esteem a foe that dares contend,

  One that with noble courage does defend

  A wounded heart; the victories men gain

  They prize by their own hazard and their pain.’

  ROCHESTER stares at BARRY.

  ROCHESTER. That wasn’t Elizabeth Barry, it was Mrs Betterton.

  BARRY. An understudy must imitate, not create.