Richard V.Hamilton. Betsy's caprice a play in six scenes --------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright © 1996 by Author Email: PnNBr@aol.com --------------------------------------------------------------- THE CHARACTERS: CHRIS, 29, a dramatist. JOANNE COLERIDGE, DUCHESS OF MULBERRY, 40. BETSY COLERIDGE, 17, her daughter. LIONEL COLLINS, 26, an actor. WILLIAM, 29, a dramatist. ANNE, 38, William's wife. THE MAN IN BLACK. THE WOMAN IN BLACK. JULIAN, 35, a theatre manager. ANDRČ DE MAISSE, 40, Henri IV's ambassador. ACT ONE Scene One. Nothing and no one on the stage. Twilight. Stage-right, enter Chris running - a handsome young man, dark, slender, tall, wearing dark clothes. He stops dead center, looks back frantically. He wipes his forehead. His hand reaches reluctantly for the long sword at his hip. With a sudden surge of resolution, he tears the sword out of the sheath and retraces his steps slowly. Before he can reach the exit, a Man In Black In A Mask enters stage-left and calls out softly. THE MAN IN BLACK Christopher. Chris swings rapidly around, pointing his sword at the stranger. Please calm down. There is no danger at this point. A pause. CHRIS No? THE MAN IN BLACK No. CHRIS Swear to me that you're not just mocking me. THE MAN IN BLACK Please sheathe your sword and stop talking nonsense. After some hesitation, Chris sheathes his sword, goes to stage-center, stops. People do go astray once in a while. It's human nature, you know. Stage-left, enter the Woman In Black, wearing a mask, soundlessly. CHRIS I haven't gone astray. I simply want out. THE MAN IN BLACK That, my dear fellow, is quite impossible, I'm afraid. The Service does not recruit people and teach them skills only to let them leave whenever they please and use what they've learned to their advantage. THE WOMAN IN BLACK Loyalty doesn't seem to be one of your strong points, sir. Chris turns around rapidly. CHRIS Huh?! THE WOMAN IN BLACK You knew what you were getting into. (a pause; in a less severe tone) What is it you lack, anyway? You have money. You have excellent lodgings. You've become somewhat famous recently in certain circles. Your poetry has won you the admiration of some connoisseurs. What more can you possibly want? CHRIS I.... I don't know. Peace. Time to write. THE MAN IN BLACK (almost disdainfully) Why stop there? Family. Say it. You want to have a family. CHRIS Not particularly, no. THE MAN IN BLACK At the time of your initiation, you were asked certain questions. You were supposed to answer them truthfully. Did you? CHRIS To the best of my knowledge, yes. THE MAN IN BLACK One of the questions was about affections. You said you didn't love anyone, that you weren't particularly engaged anywhere. Is that true still? CHRIS Er.... THE WOMAN IN BLACK Is it? CHRIS Yes. THE MAN IN BLACK Are you sure? There are secrets and then there are secrets. The secrets you've been entrusted with belong to the Service. CHRIS I've never betrayed anyone's trust, and God alone.... THE MAN IN BLACK God? Since when have you been religious, Christopher? CHRIS I? THE MAN IN BLACK Yes, you. CHRIS I've always.... more or less.... THE MAN IN BLACK Those who are in the Service belong to no one except the Queen. Did you lie to us, Chris? (a pause) It's hopeless. He's not willing to give up anything. THE WOMAN IN BLACK Pardon me, Robert. I think we should give him another chance. He's rendered us quite a few services. (at Chris) It was through him that the two most dangerous conspiracies, one of them Babington's, were discovered, two revolts nipped in the bud. A pause. THE MAN IN BLACK (at Chris) Yes. Poor Anthony, cut off in the twenty-sixth year of his stormy life. Poor Mary. The Scots miss her. (a pause) But I'm warning you, Christopher. This is really your last chance. The next time you try to shield someone, or simply to conceal from us the results of your inquiries, we'll renounce you altogether. Is that understood? A pause. CHRIS Yes. A pause. THE WOMAN IN BLACK (kindly) Now, here's something we'd like you to do. You seem to be on friendly terms with the Earl of Warwick. Correct? CHRIS Yes. THE WOMAN IN BLACK He happens to admire your poetry. I believe he once even financed a publication or two, just to get you started. CHRIS Yes. THE MAN IN BLACK Old Warwick is conspiring against the throne. At least that's what the information you've provided seems to suggest. CHRIS Er.... No. I never.... He's not.... he's not connected with any plot. THE MAN IN BLACK But he is, Chris. The most dangerous plot the Service ever dealt with. We wouldn't want to eliminate him at this point. It's too early. We want to watch his every step, though. He might become suspicious. He might try and make his escape. What we'd like you to do is go to him and do your best assuring him that he'll be perfectly safe for a while. A pause. THE WOMAN IN BLACK You are not answering, sir. CHRIS What do you want me to say? THE MAN IN BLACK Is the assignment clear to you? CHRIS Yes. THE MAN IN BLACK Are you going to do it? A pause. CHRIS Yes. THE MAN IN BLACK Good. (a pause) Remember, this is your last chance, Christopher. For a Service man, the only place of retirement is the grave. The Man In Black crosses the stage, passing Chris and slapping him on the shoulder. The Man In Black joins the Woman In Black and they are gone, stage-right. Chris is staring in front of himself, facing the audience. Stage-left, enter De Maisse - a handsome, if somewhat affected, man clad in bright colors, with a long sword at his hip. He has a French accent. DE MAISSE Pardon me, Monsieur. Is that structure called.... er.... (produces a notebook and consults it) ....the London Bridge? (a pause) Monsieur? (Chris remains motionless) Hm. A deaf Englishman. Well, well. He goes off towards the backdrop and looks intently in all directions consulting his notebook from time to time. He continues doing this throughout Chris' scene with Anne. Stage-left, enter Anne. She approaches Chris tentatively. ANNE Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to know where Lord Chamberlain's Men lodge these days? A pause. Slowly, Chris turns to her. CHRIS Eh? ANNE Lord Chamberlain's Men.... CHRIS (darkly) I remember you. (a pause) Now, let me see. Something trivial. Elizabeth? Nah. Mary Jane? Something like that.... Something mind-bogglingly trivial. Anne! You're Anne, aren't you? Wobbly's wife? ANNE That's my name, sir, but.... He clenches his teeth and with a tremendous effort composes himself, becoming at once gentler and merrier. CHRIS Of course. Lord Chamberlain's - the lousiest, dirties, most disreputable bunch of former choir boys and second-rate merchants calling themselves actors. And you've just arrived here to see one of them, poor creature! You do have the misfortune of being his lawful bride, and I both pity you and commend you on it. I pity you because your position is piteous, and I commend you because I'm generally in the habit of commending anyone doing anything the least bit original. Marrying a person of Wobbly's stamp was a most original move on your part. At least one of you must have been drunk at the time. Kids okay? And Wobbly's dear old father, the decorous Philistine, is he still the same as his son-in-law once described him to me after a particularly grim night we spent over a jug of brackish beer? A stingy, cross, witless monster? ANNE I'm sorry, sir, this is a little bit overwhelming.... You seem to know my husband? CHRIS Know him, Madam? Not true. Only your husband knows your husband, from which it follows that I, not being your husband, know exactly nothing about the man in question. He's somewhat talented, rather silly, very nasty at times, and a bad actor. Anything beyond that is anybody's guess. ANNE A bad actor? CHRIS Atrocious. ANNE Well, sir, on my part, I think he's rather good. CHRIS Oh, yes - in Greek and Roman tragedy, perhaps, where you're supposed to wail and windmill your arms like a madman. But one couldn't find a surer way to ruin a modern piece than to cast your husband for it. He's fit to be a bit player, perhaps, or a stage hand. ANNE (with some hostility) And what may your name be, may I ask? CHRIS Oh. My name. Yes, of course. You don't want to know. I'm one of those dubious fellows who can learn anyone's name without revealing his own. We're the faithful servants of the Great Bitch, my dear Anne, and you'd better not meddle in my affairs. (to the audience, sonorously) Is there anyone here who wishes to say anything against the Great Bitch? Huh? Would you like to conspire against her, perhaps? I dare you, I defy you to say one word! I'm here to make sure that the Wonder Lady is safe and sound! Understand? ANNE I'm sorry. I'd better go. CHRIS Oh, yes. My regards to Wobbly. ANNE Who's Wobbly? CHRIS One of those hapless rascals whom posterity will never forgive for marrying a woman without a sense of humor. Suddenly, Anne laughs. Chris frowns at her. ANNE I think I know who you are. You wrote that piece - what's it called? Something about a German doctor who sold his soul? Chris raises his eyebrows, goggles at her. She smiles triumphantly. CHRIS You've read it? ANNE Yes. CHRIS Did you like it? ANNE Not much. But it shows a lot of promise. You should work on your verse more. It's still very rough around the edges. CHRIS May I walk you to Wobbly's place? ANNE No, thank you. CHRIS This is a dangerous city. You never know whom you may encounter on your way to your husband's dwellings. ANNE Indeed. CHRIS So, why don't you let me.... ANNE I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself, thank you. CHRIS Are you sure? Anne laughs. ANNE Quite sure, thank you. Anne walks, shaking his head and laughing, towards the exit stage-right. Chris waits for her to exit. He shrugs. De Maisse closes his notebook, turns, and approaches Chris. DE MAISSE Pardon me, Monsieur. Your conversation with the lady who just left gives me grounds to suppose that you are not deaf after all. I am a Frenchman, as you've probably been able to gather from my accent. This is my first time in this city. Please, could you tell me where the Queen's palace is? Chris smiles. CHRIS The Queen does not reside in the city, Monsieur. She prefers the outskirts. DE MAISSE Oh, I see. Thank you very much. May I also mention without offending you that I find you rather attractive? No? Well, just a thought. He goes off to the backdrop and resumes sightseeing. CHRIS Wobbly knows how to select a woman. Impeccable taste. If only I had a wife like that! Well, Chris old man. What are we going to do now? What do we tell old Warwick? (thinks, twitches his nose) Well, there is no such thing as chivalry, I suppose. There are only degrees of being a pig. Off-stage, a woman laughs melodiously and drunkenly. A male voice says brightly, "All right, I'll see you later, then." On his way out, stage-left, Chris bumps into Lionel, - a stunningly handsome man, with the velvety well-controlled high baritone of a stage professional whose forte is playing young powerful kings. He is handsomely and artistically drunk. LIONEL Ah, Chris! How you doing, old man! He sways and falls into Chris's arms. CHRIS Lionel, please. I have to run. LIONEL (disengaging) That's all right. Let me just sit here for a while. I'll be fine. Hey, Chris, you look wonderful. Very pale and all. A true artist! CHRIS Are you sure you're going to be all right? Don't you have a performance tonight? LIONEL What, in your lousy play? Nah. I hate that play. Hey, Chris. You're a lousy writer; did you know that? CHRIS Why, thank you. You're a hopeless actor. LIONEL Hey, Chris, I feel so good.... Fucking Joanne will roast me alive for this. CHRIS I hope she does. (turns to go; stops) Hey, and, Lionel? LIONEL Yes? CHRIS Keep your hands off Betsy, all right? LIONEL Why? CHRIS Someone might cut them off for you one day, that's why. Lionel sits down against the backdrop, laughs. Chris shrugs, exits stage-left. LIONEL Come near me, nymph, that I might plant a kiss Upon your gentle instep; join me in The feast of youth.... Or something. Who wrote that? I'm not sure. I feel so good. I.... I'm the greatest actor in the world! Everybody says so. He lowers his head and falls silent. Stage-right, enter the Man In Black and the Woman In Black. THE MAN IN BLACK Now, where is he? You see, I told you. THE WOMAN IN BLACK He must have stopped for a drink someplace. THE MAN IN BLACK His instructions were to go directly to Warwick's. THE WOMAN IN BLACK Don't be so hard on him. THE MAN IN BLACK He's impulsive, shrewd, and completely unreliable. And then there's that other fellow, his friend. Also a playwright of sorts. Warwick might escape while we're dallying with all these reprobates! THE WOMAN IN BLACK However, dear Robert, it seems to me that your hatred for your uncle takes priority over even your sense of duty. THE MAN IN BLACK My uncle! The one who conspires against the throne! The one who has deprived me of my property, taken away my income, and married my bride!... We must do away with Chris. It may be wise to get rid of his friend too - Chris may have conferred some secrets to him. In our business, one must never take any chances. THE WOMAN IN BLACK His friend is perfectly innocent. He's just a poet, amusing himself with playwriting and making a living by acting in vulgar plays. THE MAN IN BLACK Whence this explicit data, may I ask? THE WOMAN IN BLACK (ironically) Do you imagine you're my only source of information? (a pause; seriously) His plays are rather good; his poetry is excellent. I almost feel like helping him. You know, he's much better than all that trash they stage at the playhouses these days. A pause. THE MAN IN BLACK I don't understand. Playhouses? Are they supposed to be amusing or something? THE WOMAN IN BLACK Perhaps if his works were performed at a better place, he'd stand a better chance.... Lord Chamberlain's Men have the worst playhouse in all of Christendom. THE MAN IN BLACK (it dawns on him) Chris! Of course! He must have slipped you some manuscripts to promote his bosom friend.... THE WOMAN IN BLACK Yes, and they were quite good. Not to mention that they told me a great deal about their author's attitude in regard to those who run this country today. Loyalty is hard to come by these days, Robert. I think I'll see to it that he gets a better theatre. THE MAN IN BLACK Need I remind you, Madam, that the Warwick plot is a very real thing. The safety of the throne is at stake. In my opinion, theatres and such should be removed altogether from our agenda. LIONEL Grrrrrrr! The Man In Black clutches his sword. The Woman In Black stops him by touching him on the elbow. De Maisse turns around. THE MAN IN BLACK Drunken swine! LIONEL Drunken swine yourself. The Man In Black rolls his eyes. The Woman In Black laughs. THE WOMAN IN BLACK Looks like it's Lionel. THE MAN IN BLACK (to the Woman In Black) Please excuse me, Madam. I must speak to him. THE WOMAN IN BLACK Sure. Go ahead. She smiles. He approaches Lionel and says quietly, THE MAN IN BLACK Lionel. What are you doing here? LIONEL Oh, just chilling, man. Just hanging out. THE MAN IN BLACK Did you see Chris? LIONEL Yes. He was on his way to your uncle's place. THE MAN IN BLACK You're not making this up, are you? LIONEL That's what I don't like about the spying business. Always suspicious. Never trust anyone. Oops, what's this? He produces a scroll from under his cloak and hands it to the Man In Black. The latter opens and reads it. His face brightens. THE MAN IN BLACK Thank you, Lionel. LIONEL The man's name is Kyd. He's a playwright of sorts, too. Why don't you call on him and see what he says. THE MAN IN BLACK Kyd, eh? He nods. He returns to the Woman In black, speaks to her quietly. There's news, Madam. Old Warwick has been in touch with the King of France. Here. We can't afford to wait any longer. We must send someone immediately to his house; not Chris, but a man of action. He hands her the scroll. She reads it briefly, nods. The two of them, with an air of determination, exit hastily stage-right. Lionel rises slowly. He is completely sober. LIONEL A better theatre, eh? He thinks. Stage-right, enter Betsy. Betsy is a plain-looking blond creature, thin, with small breasts, a high but even voice. She is very much a teenager, and awkward. Yet, there are redeeming qualities in her. While trying to persuade herself and others that she is beautiful in a singular, ineffable way, she can really be so each time she is preoccupied with something other than her looks and the reaction they produce. She attempts to cross the stage and exit stage-left without looking at Lionel. He smiles. Hey, Betsy darling! BETSY (stops; without looking at him) Please don't speak to me. You know I don't like you. LIONEL Mommy at home? BETSY Yes, she is. LIONEL Could you tell her I'll be over soon? BETSY No. LIONEL Are you jealous? BETSY (indignantly) I said, don't speak to me! (a pause) What have I done to deserve this? Why do I have to bump into you no matter where I go? LIONEL You like me. Admit it. BETSY I hate your guts. You're the most treacherous, vicious, obnoxious person I've ever seen. LIONEL I'll tell Chris you were talking to a stranger near the Bridge. You looked at him as though you worshipped him. He's not very good looking, though. A minor author of sorts, I suppose. May I kiss you? BETSY No! He jumps at her. She jumps back. He chases her all over the stage. They exit running stage-left. DE MAISSE How very amusing. Plots, playhouses, and love affairs. London is everything they told me it was, and more. Blackout. Scene Two. At rise, a room in a Bankside house. A table, a number of chairs, a window. On the table, a large pile of manuscripts. Joanne - youthful, energetic, vital, is sitting on the edge of the table. She is vaguely attractive, somewhat overweight, reddish blond. Lionel is standing beside her, his head lowered. JOANNE Really, Lionel, this is the limit. Your behavior has been quite unseemly these past six months. You forget who I am. I am the Duchess of Mulberry. The fact that I allow you to call me Joanne when we are in bed does not mean that we are equals. Could you at least show me some gratitude once in a while? I've made you a famous actor. For you sake alone, I'm now running a theatre company which is operating at a loss. Do you absolutely have to sleep with every seamstress you meet in the street? Is it positively beyond your power to skip a few? LIONEL She isn't a seamstress. JOANNE I'm not discussing her profession right now. She jumps off the table, paces. What do I do with you, Lionel? Why do you have to humiliate me like this? You're a great actor and a very handsome man; you also happen to be a good lover. A little loyalty would make you almost human. LIONEL May I go now? JOANNE Go where? LIONEL Oh, I don't know. Here and there. To the inn. JOANNE And what are you going to do at the inn? LIONEL At the inn? JOANNE Yes. What are you going to do there? LIONEL I don't know. Stuff people usually do at an inn. Drink some beer. Play a game or two. JOANNE There's plenty of beer here, and we could play any game you like. LIONEL Well, you know what I mean. I've been working very hard lately, I have to relax a little bit once in a while. You know that, Duchess. I have a performance tonight. JOANNE Yes, of course. LIONEL Will you come? JOANNE Of course. I always go to your performances. Fool that I am, I just can't resist your talent. When you're performing, you have no equals. You're going to ruin me one of these days. LIONEL Your husband has enough money to by half of London. JOANNE You leave the Duke out of this, do you hear? Insolent wretch! Lionel smiles and turns away from her. JOANNE Why are you smiling? What's so funny? (a pause) Do you think you're the only one in the world? That I couldn't get a different lover if I wished? Huh? LIONEL (suppressing a laugh) I didn't say that. JOANNE Oh, you're so cocky. Well, for your information, some men still take a vivid interest in me. LIONEL Good for you. JOANNE You don't believe me, do you? He shrugs and turns away from her. Oh, yeah? The Earl of Warwick is madly in love with me. He turns to her and smiles skeptically. You don't believe me? Then read this. She reaches into her bodice and produces a tiny scroll. She hands it to him. He takes it, opens it, and scans it. Aloud, if you don't mind. With your skills, you should be able to do that sonnet justice. LIONEL Old Warwick himself wrote this? She sniffs indignantly. Didn't know he was a poet. JOANNE Love can inspire anyone to become a poet. Lionel strikes a pose and reads the sonnet with professional clarity. LIONEL A thousand chances I would gladly miss Glory to gain but for thy love alone, For the opportunity to plant a kiss Upon thy opalescent collar bone. So haughty, yet so exquisitely kind, And so majestic, yet so feminine, Thy charms are such that one must be quite blind Not to give in at once. Alas, my sin Was to allow pretties to have their turn And let my passion in their sham warmth bask; For not until I met thee did I learn The startling truth that youth is but a mask; Like in a painting once for decades sealed, Only by age is true beauty revealed. JOANNE (triumphantly) So there! Do you see now what an ungrateful little shit you are? LIONEL And it was Warwick himself who wrote this, right? JOANNE Why, certainly! LIONEL And he dedicated it to you. JOANNE Yes. He returns the scroll to her. He is suddenly pensive. A pause. LIONEL (absentmindedly) Look, there's a rat. JOANNE (panicking) Where? Ah! She jumps, runs around, and finally hangs from Lionel's neck, lifting her feet off the floor. Oh, I can't stand rats! Lionel! Do something! He laughs, sits her on the table, spreads his arms wide and roars. LIONEL There. It's gone. JOANNE Stupid brute! This city is so full of them. Oh, Lionel, they frighten me so. He laughs, goes up to her. LIONEL It's all right. It's gone. See? JOANNE Let me catch my breath. Goodness gracious. You don't think it'll come back, do you?.... He shrugs, chuckles. All right, go now. He makes for the door stage-right. Lionel. LIONEL What? Oh. He returns, kisses her very gently on the lips. She returns the kiss. For a while, they continue kissing. He runs his hand through her hair, kisses her neck. She closes her eyes. He takes her hand in his and kisses her wrist. There is a knock on the door. They disengage. Joanne quickly straightens her dress and touches her hair. I'm off. He quickly presses her to his chest, kisses her on the lips, breaks away, runs and exits stage-right. JOANNE Ahem.... Come in. Stage-left, enter Julian - a full-bodied, happy man who knows how to enjoy a good meal. Just now, however, he is rather morose. JULIAN My Lady. We have a problem. JOANNE Sit down, Julian. No, not in that chair - you'll break it. This one. Thank you. Well? JULIAN Madam, as your theatre manager, I.... JOANNE Would you like a drink? JULIAN Er.... No, thank you.... Well, in fact.... I could use a beer. He pours himself a mugful. He drinks and grunts appreciatively. He takes out his hanky and wipes his brow. Yes. Well. A messenger from Her Majesty came calling this morning. JOANNE Go on. JULIAN The players have been invited to perform at Court a month from now. JOANNE Excellent. So, where's the problem? JULIAN There's nothing to perform. JOANNE What do you mean? JULIAN You know. I'm not much of an expert in these matters. Were it up to me, I'd just sell it or close it. The company is operating at a huge loss. JOANNE That's none of your business, Julian. Please continue. JULIAN Well, Duchess, I'd rather run your farms for you again. This theatre stuff.... Well, all right. Her Majesty wishes to see a new play. So, all the Romans and Greeks are out. JOANNE We perform modern plays as well. JULIAN Not too many. JOANNE Tamburlaine The Great? JULIAN Oh, come on, Lady Mulberry! The company's been playing that piece three years straight. Everyone at Court knows it by heart. The courtiers themselves could perform it if you asked them. JOANNE But we could give it a new interpretation. Julian shrugs, sips beer. Joanne sits, goes through the stack of manuscripts on the table. There's nothing out there at the moment, really. I've been praying for a new playwright to come along who could give Lionel an opportunity to shine in a new role. But you know how playwrights are. They're either too stupid or too stubborn. They think too highly of themselves, pretending to be men of letters. JULIAN So where's the solution? JOANNE We'll have to go with Tamburlaine this time. JULIAN May I be frank with you, Duchess? JOANNE Please do, Julian. JULIAN There are nine playhouses in this city. Only three of them, including ours, can perform in winter, being as they are indoor establishments. Only one of these hosts a company called Her Majesty's Men. Ours is the only theatre that gets tax breaks. We have the best actors. The best costumes. The best equipment. And yet, ours is the only one operating at a loss. Year after year, you have to.... JOANNE We stand for quality. JULIAN Oh, quality be damned! Pardon me, Madam. What you really want is a few comedies, a few genuine English-spirited side-splitting laugh machines that will get us fans and revenue. Punch and Judy stuff. JOANNE Comedy, my dear Julian, can be, contrary to popular beliefs, an elevated art form. Only Romans could do it justice. An Englishman cannot write a comedy without slipping into slapstick humor, preposterous situations, vulgar gestures, and so on. I wouldn't want Lionel to make a fool of himself out there. It's bad enough that his profession is despised. The last time the Earl of Warwick visited our theatre.... JULIAN Duchess. JOANNE Yes? JULIAN Please, not so loud. JOANNE Not so loud? Why, what did I.... JULIAN The name you just mentioned. JOANNE Oh? (quietly) You mean?... JULIAN Yes. He's been found guilty of something or other, I think. There are rumors.... JOANNE Really? Oh, my. Who could have thought!... He, of all people. If there was a perfectly loyal gentlemen in the whole kingdom.... JULIAN Please, Madam. There is a knock on the door. JOANNE (without turning away from him) Come in! Stage-left, enter William - medium height, thin, somewhat awkward, hair dark, eyes blue. If he wore a beard, it would be reddish. His voice is an unconvincing high baritone. He has a manuscript under his arm. WILLIAM Oh, hello.... I'm sorry. JOANNE Oh, it's you. Let me find your play for you. She goes through the pile of manuscripts. William stands awkwardly in the middle of the stage. Julian sips beer and regards William amiably. JULIAN A young aspiring author, I presume? WILLIAM Er, yes. JULIAN Well, well. Tough out there, isn't it? WILLIAM Yes. Julian rises and walks over to William, places his hand on the other man's shoulder. JULIAN Just keep doing it. Just don't ever give up. WILLIAM I.... have.... a family to support. JULIAN Yes, I understand. It's very tough out there. But, with enough patience, you'll get there, if you have it in you, that is. There's so much competition out there these days. Everyone writes plays, but there are only so many theatres, you know. But, if I were you, I wouldn't despair. You have to believe in yourself. JOANNE Ah, here it is. She hands William the manuscript. William accepts it but drops the other one in the process. Pages scatter about the stage. He stoops to pick them up, placing the returned manuscript on the floor. He gathers the scattered pages hastily, briefly glancing at the text, making certain they are in right order. Presently, he gives this up, embarrassed, and starts lumping them together anyhow. WILLIAM You've read it, then, Madam? JOANNE Yes. WILLIAM Did you.... (stops gathering the pages, looks up at her) ....like it? (a pause; tentatively) Even a little bit? JOANNE It was interesting to read. I'm afraid we won't be able to produce it here. (a pause) To be honest, I found it fairly confusing, and.... if it's meant to be a combination of farce and satirical historical drama, then.... I'm afraid it fails on both accounts. (a pause) I don't know. As a study of decadence and the morality of the rich, there is very little of substance to get hold of. You know what I mean. The structure, for instance, is inevitably faulty, simply because the themes of power and money are - how should I put it? - meandered around rather than.... rather than fully developed and explored. You see, if your piece were to be more succinct, then the writing might be allowed to focus more on.... on character and plot, which would help us find the heart of the drama. As it is, I found it very difficult to.... to find.... in the current draft. A long pause. William resumes gathering the pages. You could try other theatres. WILLIAM Yes, but.... er.... JOANNE At any rate, I wish you luck. WILLIAM May I.... offer you another play? JOANNE Another one? WILLIAM Er.... yes. Another one. JOANNE (shrugs) If you like. He picks it up from the floor and hands it to her. She places it next to the pile on the table. JOANNE I must warn you, though, that it'll be some time before I get to it. We're so busy here. WILLIAM Yeah?... All right.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Er.... Good day, then, Madam. My lord, your servant. He turns, stumbles, walks to the left, bumps into Betsy on his way out. Oh, I'm very sorry. I seem to be despicably clumsy today. BETSY (staring at him) It's all right. WILLIAM Well, if you'd excuse me now. He squeezes by her and exits. She stares after him. JULIAN Funny fellow. JOANNE Yes.... So, do we still have a problem? Sit down, Betsy, don't stand by the window, you'll catch pneumonia. JULIAN Excellent beer! There's nothing like a good sip of beer from time to time. Cheers you up, it does. JOANNE Talk to me, Julian. JULIAN Well, yes, the problem's still there. We wouldn't want to bore Her Majesty, would we? JOANNE So what do you propose? JULIAN I don't know. You're the doctor, I guess. I beg your pardon, Duchess. Well, actually, why not give that guy a chance? JOANNE What guy? JULIAN The one who was here just now. Seems like a good sort. JOANNE Are you going to tell Her Majesty that? That he's a good sort? Surely that will make everything quite all right. JULIAN Why, what's wrong with him? JOANNE He can't write, that's what's wrong. He doesn't know the first thing about theatre. And his verse is simply awful. You know? JULIAN Well, does it scan, at least? JOANNE Scan? What.... What do you mean by scan? JULIAN Well. I'm not sure. I've heard the term used a few times. Seems that good verse is supposed to scan. JOANNE I don't know. I don't remember hearing it. Anyway, what he thinks is blank verse is really street talk. I remember now - that other piece of his. Sounded like common people talking. JULIAN What's wrong with that? JOANNE Well, if one wanted to hear common people talk, one could just as well go out in the street and listen to them. There's no admission fee. And his story is so complicated, no one would be able to follow it. We can't afford people leaving in the middle of a performance. A pause. She opens at random the manuscript William left with her and browses it, turning pages fiercely. JULIAN Well, I suppose you're right. Although we haven't had a full house in years.... JOANNE (browsing) Same thing. He's just no good. Here, read this passage. JULIAN Well, you know, Madam, I'm not much of a reader. Can't read very well, in fact. Reading is not my thing, I guess. JOANNE Oh. Well. Now, Betsy.... BETSY Hi, Mom. JOANNE Julian, you'll have to excuse us. Something important must have happened. She never visits me here during the day. JULIAN About the play, then? JOANNE Drop by later, we'll talk some more. Julian hesitates, then rises and shuffles out. BETSY Is he upset? JOANNE Yes, as usual. A very fussy person. What's up? She looks through the manuscripts on the table. BETSY I'm pregnant. JOANNE What! BETSY Just checking. You're paying attention. Good. JOANNE Don't ever scare me like that! BETSY Give me some money. I want to go to the fair. JOANNE What are you going to do there? BETSY Where, at the fair? JOANNE Yes. What are you going to do there? BETSY Well, I don't know. Look around. Have some fun. Take my mind off things. I really miss going to the fair. Father used to take me to the fair a lot when I was a kid. He doesn't seem to like me anymore. My views are much too advanced for him, I suppose. JOANNE You're a grown-up now, Betsy. Fairs are boring. Besides, now that you're a lady, it wouldn't befit you to mingle with commoners as much as you used to. BETSY Speaking of commoners, I'd like to join a theatre company. JOANNE Will you please be serious? BETSY I am serious. A pause. Joanne rises, walks over, strokes Betsy's hair gently. JOANNE What is it? A tooth ache? When's your period due? Why are you so moody? BETSY Mom - will you please listen? JOANNE Yes. Tell me. BETSY Read my coral lips. I. Want. To. Join. A. Theatre. Company. Got it now? A pause. JOANNE You're mad. BETSY There's no cure for that. Anything else? JOANNE My own daughter. BETSY I can always change my name if it's our family's reputation you're concerned about; don't worry, I'm not as inconsiderat