The Libertine (NHB Modern Plays) Read online

  SACKVILLE ushers the MERRY GANG out of the firing line.

  BARRY. I wanted to spare you the consequences of embarrassing the King in public.

  ROCHESTER. The whole purpose was to embarrass him. So that he might, for once, be shown the truth about himself.

  BARRY. You have a divine talent. And yet you choose to see only what is base and mean. You are one-eyed. You look at humanity and you see the monkey, but you close your eyes to the angel. When I am on stage, I give wing to the angel, I let her soar over the rowdy Pit creatures until I have silenced them with the flapping of her wings. That is why they have begun to listen to me. Because they leave the theatre with a larger idea of themselves and they become more noble in their daily lives. You show them to be a scrawny monkey in a shabby coat who shits and mounts its mate and they go on their way meaner.

  ROCHESTER. I see them as they are and I portray what I see –

  BARRY. You see differently. I know you do, for I have had you in the two o’clock dark when you have held me and, while we coupled, spoken thoughts richer than I have heard from any other man. I would you had the courage to show the world the man I have seen, for did he but let himself shine, he would guide us all to a new and finer place.

  ROCHESTER. That man is only for you, Lizzie, for only your eyes and voice can raise him from the dust.

  BARRY. I love you, John, but I do not love the part of you that determines always to show the worst of yourself, the worst of ourselves, the worst of everything.

  ROCHESTER. Well, that is the part of me which is available.

  ‘I rise at eleven; I dine about two;

  I get drunk before seven and the next thing I do,

  I send for my whore, when for fear of the clap,

  I spend in her hand and I spew in her lap.

  I storm and I roar and I fall in a rage,

  And missing my lass, (To DOWNS.) I fall on my page;

  Then crop-sick, all morning I rail at my men,

  And in bed I lie yawning till eleven, again.’

  BARRY goes. ROCHESTER is stock-still. DOWNS approaches cautiously, SACKVILLE and ETHEREGE a little behind him.

  DOWNS. All right, Johnny?

  ROCHESTER. What are we doing?

  ETHEREGE. We’re going to get a spot of supper. Charlie’s treating us with his winnings –

  ROCHESTER. I don’t mean that, I mean WHAT ARE WE DOING?

  SACKVILLE. Oh fuck, he’s gone philosophical –

  ETHEREGE. Johnny! I lost ten times what you did today.

  SACKVILLE. Come on, let’s make it an evening.

  DOWNS. Yes, let’s go on a freak and scare Epsom from its wits!

  SACKVILLE (retrieving a scrawled map from his pocket). There is a whore here, gents, personally recommended by Mr Dryden himself, who glories in the name of Molly Noakes.

  DOWNS. I am up her already!

  ROCHESTER. Molly Noakes, the whore of Epsom. Such, gentlemen, is the offer which has been made to us at this point in our lives. All those in favour say ‘Aye’.

  SACKVILLE and DOWNS say ‘Aye’.

  Those against?

  ETHEREGE. Nay.

  SACKVILLE. George, you are becoming an old killjoy.

  ETHEREGE. I want my dinner.

  SACKVILLE. Won’t roger Molly Noakes cos he wants his dinner.

  DOWNS. You’re becoming an OLD MAN, George.

  SACKVILLE. Lead on. To the whorehouse!!

  ALL. To the whorehouse!!

  Quick blackout, then lights up. A door. It’s now quite dark. The GANG look at the door.

  DOWNS. This is it?

  SACKVILLE. According to the Laureate.

  DOWNS hammers the door then pisses against it.

  DOWNS (hammering). MOLL-LY, MOLL-LY, MOLL-LY!!!

  The door opens suddenly. A CONSTABLE stands there. DOWNS sprinkles on, aristocratically unconcerned.

  CONSTABLE. Gentlemen?

  ROCHESTER. Where’s Molly?

  DOWNS. We want Molly and we want her fast.

  CONSTABLE. Young man, you are pissing on my topboots.

  DOWNS finishes and buttons up.

  DOWNS. Yes, fellow, but you are only a common whorehouse doorstepman and we are the cream of the country.

  CONSTABLE. I am the Constable of the Watch.

  SACKVILLE. You are what, sir?

  CONSTABLE. I am the Constable and this is my house.

  SACKVILLE. Dryden! Can’t write a shag-map!

  CONSTABLE. The honestest house in Epsom!

  SACKVILLE. We are informed there is muff-bargain within these portals.

  CONSTABLE. No such thing, sir.

  DOWNS. You are a rogue and a liar!

  DOWNS suddenly thumps the CONSTABLE. ROCHESTER immediately weighs in, followed by SACKVILLE. ETHEREGE dithers. The CONSTABLE hits the floor and the three GENTS give him a kicking.

  ROCHESTER. Sorry, old chap. Did you slip?

  SACKVILLE. Come all this way just to see our Molly!

  ROCHESTER. Keep us from our Molly!

  DOWNS. Cunt pretends he’s a constable! Cunt-stable!

  ALL. Cunt-stable, cunt-stable –

  ETHEREGE. Johnny! Johnny!

  Two GENTLEMEN OF THE WATCH have emerged from the door. One carries a staff, the other a half-pike. They go for DOWNS.

  STAFF. All right, roarers, let’s have you.

  PIKE. Bright boy, start a tussle on our doorstep.

  CONSTABLE. Hold him!

  PIKE. Game gent, aren’t you, sir?

  STAFF. Every race day the same.

  The GANG back off. The CONSTABLE gets to his feet.

  CONSTABLE. Now then, gentlemen. I am the Constable of Epsom, these two fellows are of my watch and we would be pleased with any explanation you care to offer.

  ETHEREGE. Ah! I do believe there has been a species of error.

  CONSTABLE. And what would that error be, sir?

  ROCHESTER wishes to push the confrontation to the limit, but ETHEREGE is determined to make the peace.

  ROCHESTER. There has been no error –

  ETHEREGE. Kind sir, I must protest that we are gentlemen, personal friends of His Majesty. This is the Earl of Dorset. And Middlesex. This, my Lord Rochester. I confess we have today attended the race meeting, and it will be immediately apparent to you that we have imbibed too freely of both grape and hop. Being erroneously persuaded that further entertainment could be encountered behind this door, my companions, perhaps overeagerly, pressed their aristocratic intentions to a point beyond the normal civility of our class. I do most deeply repent of any injury to any participant in this most regrettable interlude.

  ETHEREGE distributes small bribes all round.

  ROCHESTER. Arsehole.

  CONSTABLE. Gentleman, I know how the racing frenzy can take hold of a fellow. Youthful spirits we shall say, youthful spirits.

  DOWNS. Dashed sorry, old fellow. Got borne away on the tide.

  SACKVILLE. Most regrettable. Not too proud to shake hands with an earl, sir?

  CONSTABLE. Be honoured, sir.

  All but ROCHESTER shake the CONSTABLE’s hand.

  SACKVILLE. Here, have a drink with us.

  SACKVILLE produces a flask, has a nip and offers to the CONSTABLE,who also takes one.

  CONSTABLE. All right. On your way, fellows.

  The WATCH hesitate a moment, then go.

  ETHEREGE. I am now seventy pound down on the day, Charlie, and I’ll be glad to take up your previous offer. Shall we wend towards the inn?

  DOWNS. Indeed we shall.

  CONSTABLE. All you do, sir, is follow the road round to the left –

  Suddenly ROCHESTER draws his sword.

  Help, ho!

  ETHEREGE. Johnny, no!

  ROCHESTER. You empty cullions, out of my way, I’ll settle him.

  SACKVILLE. No!

  DOWNS grabs ROCHESTER from behind.

  ROCHESTER. Let me at him, let me at the sniveller!

  DOWNS. Damn it, Johnny, we’re all friends
here!

  SACKVILLE. Look, ho!

  The WATCH return. The STAFFMAN smashes at DOWNS’s skull. DOWNS falls.

  PIKE. Get the one with the sword!

  DOWNS. Help me!

  ROCHESTER, ETHEREGE and SACKVILLE run off pursued by the STAFFMAN. DOWNS screams horribly.

  Where are you? Can’t see, can’t see!

  DOWNS flails. The PIKEMAN turns and runs him through. DOWNS cries out. The STAFFMAN comes back.

  STAFF. Made off. Cowards.

  CONSTABLE. You went for the wrong one. Fellow had his sword out.

  STAFF. I cudgelled him. Only to wound.

  CONSTABLE. It’s a wound all right.

  PIKE. Smashed his skull.

  DOWNS. Spark. Where is the spark? Where is –

  DOWNS is still.

  CONSTABLE. It’s over with him.

  PIKEMAN. Cowards.

  Lights fade… Immediately a spot comes up on MALET.

  MALET. When men are away for a long time, they change, not in themselves but in your mind. I heard first that he had gone to France, then why he had gone to France and I heard the word ‘coward’. I had never thought his courage was in question, knowing he had fought at sea to good account. But with the whisper of ‘coward­’ I saw him differently. Something in the foundations of my love shook. I sat with a Bible on my lap in house too large for my needs and wondered where he was.

  Scene Ten – Attic

  Doubtful morning light through a single attic window picks out ROCHESTER. He lies on a thin mattress in a mean little room in the East End of London. ALCOCK comes in.

  ALCOCK. My lord! (Pause.) How goes it with you? (Pause.) I have haunted the apothecary’s hoping to steal physic, but they are watchful villains.

  ROCHESTER. Where is Jane?

  ALCOCK. Working the East End streets.

  ROCHESTER. She has been absent many hours.

  ALCOCK. Then perhaps we shall eat tonight.

  ROCHESTER. She is a woman and not to be trusted.

  ALCOCK. She has been steadfast in your hour of need.

  ROCHESTER. You know I cannot abide loyalty.

  ALCOCK. If you spit on hers you spit as well on mine.

  ROCHESTER. I do. If this life in hiding gives you no enjoyment, then depart.

  ALCOCK. I shall see my service with you through to the end.

  ROCHESTER. How insufferable. That you should degenerate into the duteous servant… I have failed with you. Do you ever think on our Lord Jesus Christ?

  ALCOCK. My lord?

  ROCHESTER. He was cast like me into the wilderness, he was scorned and reviled, he was, by one of his own followers, betrayed.

  ALCOCK. I believe that in most respects, his life was of a different character from yours.

  ROCHESTER. He would have brought Billy Downs back from the dead, do you not think?

  ALCOCK. These are wandering thoughts, my lord.

  ROCHESTER. I told him he had a dying countenance. Why does nobody listen?

  JANE comes on with bread and wine.

  Where have you been?

  JANE. Turning minge into provender.

  JANE gives him wine. ROCHESTER guzzles. ALCOCK gnashes at the bread.

  Take at least a little bread.

  ROCHESTER. I have now no stomach for food.

  JANE. Take some!

  JANE feeds him bread. ROCHESTER dribbles it out.

  I took a wrong turning with you. I am too much in your company to be your fricatrice but too little in your mind to be more. For it is still full of Lizzie.

  ROCHESTER. My mind will always be full of Lizzie.

  JANE. Then you deserve what you shall receive.

  CHARLES comes in.

  CHARLES. Jane. Go to my coach. There is something there for you.

  JANE and ALCOCK go.

  ROCHESTER. I am unimpressed. It has taken you six weeks to find me.

  CHARLES. Trivial though it may seem, I do have a country to run. Those Parliament bastards are trying to shaft me with a new bill which would exclude my successors from the throne. Subtle. Instead of chopping kings’ heads off, you pick and choose the ones you want. It’s my civil war. So, surprising though it may seem, you’re not the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning.

  ROCHESTER. And why do I merit your attention now?

  CHARLES. I wanted to tell you how well George’s play is doing. The Man of Mode has taken the town.

  ROCHESTER. So George is making money out of me.

  CHARLES. Yes, Mr Etherege is packing out the Dorset Garden with you as the greatest spark on earth. But the town has you branded as a coward who leaves his friend to die in a brawl. People will stand for an awful lot, but they won’t stand for coward.

  ROCHESTER. All men would be cowards if they only had the courage.

  CHARLES. The boy died. And you ran off –

  ROCHESTER. I have to go too far, d’you see? I must always exceed or I don’t feel like I’m alive.

  CHARLES. And that’s why my sundial got smashed and the great epic about my reign turns into a squalid little play about knobbing. And that’s why Downs died. So you can feel alive.

  ROCHESTER drinks.

  ROCHESTER. The thing is this, Charlie, we expected so much of you. We wanted a Sun King. And when, after a few years, we saw it was just the same old caper, you asking Parliament for money, them telling you to piss off, you shutting down their shop. When we brought you back we were saying ‘Yes, kings are divine,’ they have the godly touch. And then we lost two wars to the Dutch, London was decimated with fire and pestilence, we were still living on borrowed money: that wasn’t what we’d signed up for. I can forgive you a great deal but I can’t forgive you for not being a god.

  CHARLES. You talk about your disappointment in me. It ain’t a fraction of my disappointment in you.

  ROCHESTER. I have lived my life in accordance with the values of your reign as my father would have wished.

  CHARLES. Your father was a bigger piss-artist than you.

  ROCHESTER. I never met him because he was constantly in exile trying to put you on the throne.

  CHARLES. The reason why he wasn’t with his family is the same reason you’re not with your family now. He didn’t like it –

  ROCHESTER. That’s not true.

  CHARLES. He was too busy getting pissed somewhere to be bothered with you –

  ROCHESTER. It isn’t true –

  CHARLES. I knew him and you didn’t. I was restored to the throne in spite of his efforts. He was a useless prick.

  ROCHESTER launches himself at CHARLES. CHARLES draws his sword and levels it at ROCHESTER’s chest.

  Some moments. Then CHARLES withdraws his sword.

  I thought about putting you in the Tower again. I even considered putting your head on a spike. But I’ve decided on something worse. I’m going to ignore you. I will no longer encourage in my breast any hope for you. I am condemning you to be you for the rest of your days.

  JANE comes on. She is much better dressed.

  You like your new dress?

  JANE. You are very generous to me, Your Majesty.

  CHARLES. There is to be a ball at Greenwich tonight to celebrate the opening of the Observatory. And you shall be my dancing partner.

  JANE. I shall always do what you command.

  CHARLES. And I shall frequently command you.

  CHARLES and JANE dance off together. ROCHESTER is left alone.

  A moment. Then the lights fade. etherge comes on.

  etherege. It was the summer when everyone walked at the pace I chose. While Dryden strained at his iambs and my Lord Rochester thumped the head of his muse against a wall called Lizzie, I simply wrote down what I saw. And when the Dorset Gardens Theatre put my play on, it became, for a few hot months, the centre of the civilised world.

  Scene Eleven – Backstage with Barry

  Backstage at the Dorset Gardens Theatre during a performance of The Man of Mode. The house is rocking with laughter. LU
SCOMBE stands with the prompt copy. BARRY is coming offstage.

  LUSCOMBE (to offstage). Mr Harris!

  BARRY. Whose idea was it to employ Mr Smith?

  LUSCOMBE. Where is Mr Harris?

  LUSCOMBE exits.

  BARRY. If he lisps much more he’ll bite his tongue off.

  LUSCOMBE returns dragging HARRIS. He holds a small pie. BARRY goes onstage.

  LUSCOMBE. You had four minutes, Mr Harris. That is enough time to buy a pie. It is enough time to eat a pie. But it is not enough time to buy and eat a pie.

  HARRIS. I’m here, ain’t I?

  LUSCOMBE. The fine for nearly missing an entrance is one pie. On you go!

  LUSCOMBE shoves HARRIS onstage. She takes a bite from the pie, a small victory in a day of defeats. Some moments, then ETHEREGE and ROCHESTER come on. ROCHESTER walks with difficulty.

  ETHEREGE. Molly! Brought the Earl in to gawp at me triumph.

  LUSCOMBE. Authors have a place, Mr Etherege. It is in the garret. I do not like them cluttering up my theatre.

  ETHEREGE. It ain’t your theatre –

  LUSCOMBE. While the curtain is up, Mr Etherege, it is my theatre and to anyone who balks at my slightest whim I will take a meat-axe.

  ROCHESTER. Oh, Moll, don’t give us your iron mask, we were ever your chums.

  LUSCOMBE. In my profession there are no chums, there are only degrees of enemy.

  ETHEREGE (whispers). Lizzie won’t see him. Won’t see Johnny. This is the only way.

  ETHEREGE introduces a half-crown coin into the conversation.

  LUSCOMBE. Money don’t buy this, Mr Etherege. Do you not see? This is my life.

  ETHEREGE (withdrawing it). Sorry, Moll. Just five minutes.

  LUSCOMBE (relenting). I don’t want her upset. She comes off in ten lines.

  ROCHESTER. I love theatres. They remind me of ships, great rocking galleons floating into battle. I could have written a splendid play, you know, had it not been beneath me.

  ETHEREGE. Yes.

  An enormous laugh from the house.

  ROCHESTER. Oh, George, you’ve done it. But you know what they’re laughing at? They’re not laughing at your wit, they’re laughing at mine.

  ETHEREGE. Don’t deceive yourself.

  ROCHESTER. What?

  ETHEREGE. You couldn’t have written a splendid play. You don’t have the gift. But I have caught the scent and flavour of our age and set it down for all time. The Man of Mode. You didn’t write it because you couldn’t.