Cast

Lord Byron

John Cam Hobhouse

Scrope Berdmore Davies

Major Cooper

Lord Devlin

Count Mauvais

Caroline Cameron

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SCENE 1 

 

1808, The Cocoa Tree - a gentlemen's club in St. James

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SBD: Hobby - shall we raise our glasses to our dear recover'd Lord? - to you Byron (glasses clink) - and to the heav'n-sent miracle that is Dr. Pearson's ‘ Restoration'...

H: ... and laudanum
SBD: Aye - and that - both of which eased the inflammations acquired in that of that Abyss of Sensuality - Brompton Cottage

B: Vastly kind of you, my friends - I must say, it is a blessèd relief to be able to rummage around below the waist and button my nankeens with speed (wobbles on feet) - the past month has been somewhat akin to a drowsy numbness - as though of hemlock I had quaffed..  

H: Sit down, Byron - you're babbling onanistic nonsense (takes temperature)

B: On the upside - I have sweated off a sufficient quantity of flesh to enable me to slip into an Eelskin and vie with the slim Beau’s of modern times

SBD(scoffs): Why, have you not noticed? (motions to the room) - during the length of your medical confinement, it became the mode amongst Gentlemen to grow fat - that you have decreased instead of enlarging will be remarked upon (shakes head) - excepting Jackson and Angelo's sporting studios, violent exercise in London is impracticable!

B(grabs a jellied partridge pie - a Cocoa Tree specialty): I shall attribute the phenomenon to our evening squeezes at public and private parties - and not to a near-fatal - so the woeful visage of Pearson informed me - contagion occasioned by “too frequent connection" - heh heh

H: I think we need a complete break from London 

B: Damned if we do! - last eve I almost purchased some of  D’egville’s ballarinas - they would fill a glorious Harem (ponders and smirks) - the ‘ Harem of Hannibal Higgins' - I shall hire it out to an Elite house of Fornication - let those impertinent duns know their station!! (bites fingernails)

H: Pray, Byron - sit down awhile! you've enough of the Pearson's for today - now, Scrope, harken to my proposal - it being high summer, the Town begins to disgorge its contents (glances at B) - to further Byron's recovery, shall we three spend a week in Brighton? - increase our fortunes at the Hibernian Sporting Club, if we dare? rinse the brainboxes and nethers with enervating gusts of sea air? - what say ye?

SBD(sighs): I would most certainly welcome such diversion - I have spent the last fortnight but meandering about - feeding upon Leg of Beef Soup - frequenting the British Forum (slumps) - I have even given up Newmarket (gasps) 

B: To Brighthelmstone! (seems pleased) - the rattle and dash of the box and dice! - the glorious uncertainty, not only of good luck or bad luck, but of any luck at all

H: Yes, well (frowns) - friends, let us assess our pockets - and plan accordingly

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A total of 20 guineas is gathered - other pocket detritus, though curious, yea, actionable - is of little monetary value

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H: Our worldly affairs are not over flourishing - we are possest amongst us but twenty guineas of ready cash, with which we have to maintain as many of your whorson horses and servants, besides house-hold and whore-hold expenditure for a week!

B: Twenty! - good Lord! - however, we do have Scrope's mastery of Hazard to multiply our hoard

SBD(is revived): Oh, the winsome rattle of sevens! (paces) We can stay at old Lord Devlin's - he keeps a fine table - has the gout - fine cellar and even finer serving-wenches (is itching for the road) - come, we shall make Brighton by evening (rubs hands) - time to stack the decks!

B: We can take my superb Barouche Rex

H(sneering): I presume Miss Cameron will not accompany us this time, Byron?

B: Mon pauvre Caroline! - Pearson forbade her duties for another fortnight (clenches jaw) - moreover - she is making deuced outrageous threats re. learning to read whilst she's laid up! - yet still, she wasn't born for death, my immortal bird..

H: Again, that's the Pearson's talking

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The friends hie into B's coach and hit the road

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X

SCENE 2

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Brighton - après dinner at Lord Devlin's

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LD: Oy! gentlemen - that plaguy duck has left me as bloated as a baboon (rings for maid)

B: My dear Devlin, I must compliment your cellar - exceptional, what with you being this far south of Berry Bros. - why, your Champagnes are quite, quite stellar!

SBD(pats tummy): Duck agrees with me mightily - sets one up tidily (is impatient) - what numbers have we for Hazard? Do you play Count, er.. (whispers to B: I forget the French Emigrant nomenclature)

B: Why Scrope - certainly Count Mauvais plays, when he's able - and Major Cooper? - Devlin? - shall we all partake of the table?

MC: Lamentably, I am in a pecunilarily embarrassed situation on account of my Hussar's uniform and pony almost bankrupting poor Papa

CM: Et moi - 'tis le middle of la nuit! I musts to bed - not to shake the dice - non! - I have a charmant young lady awaiting - a Mademoiselle Camerone, late of Brompton

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B pales - lunges violently towards the Champagne

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SBD: And you, Lord Devlin? yes? - we shall rattle that Confit from your innards!

LD(is yellow): Euch! - if only I were an ostrich and dieted on fire irons - anything that would soothe my gizzards! - as it is, I shall get me to bed and smoke two cigars

H: As ‘ us youth' are dressed to sprucery - and not digestively compromised - we shall proceed to the Hibernian Sporting Club - where - one hopes - our twenty guineas shall be optimized!

SBD(smirks): Perchance our winnings shall restore said ‘ Mademoiselle Camerone' to her rightful Spouse of the Bawdy-House, heh heh (B glares titanically)

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The lads depart - two hours later and tempers are strained

 

H: How much of the twenty have we left, Scrope?
SBD(sweating): Sweet Joseph and his Donkey!! I have but three - what have you, Byron?

B: In sooth (shakes head) - while I do consider myself a devilish clever fellow - how I could lose could eight straight runs, I've no way of ascertaining - I've but five - no! - but four guineas remaining

SBD: Four?! - and you, Hobhouse?

H: Mmm - this House must be as crookèd as an Irishman's gun - why, at Whites, I have oft carried off all the cash upon the table and yet - here! - I appear to have none

B: It was your old-womanny idea to thus aid my health, Hobby! -  and it hath bought nowt but mayhem! - worse - our whore-hold - you feckless poltroon - why, we have not a single sous for 'em

SBD: All is not lost, my friends - I have been watching the dice rattle thither and yon - we shall roll our seven guineas on double sevens - you see, my seventh cousin was the seventh son of a seventh son (is triumphant with logic) 

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SBD strolls with well-earned confidence to the table - strolls back in well-earned despair​

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H(in a fury): How preposterous you are, Davies! What shall we do now, our Man of the Table? - you have but made our embarrassments worse

B(merrily): Let's away to Devlin - to his cellar and his charming housemaids who care not a whit for the size of our purse!

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​​SBD & H leave in a fierce bad humour​​

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X

 

SCENE 3

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Two a.m. - the beachfront near Lord Delvin's. Despite being infinitely intoxicated, the lads strip and plunge into the sea

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B: Hobby, I've noticed you cannot swim - will you fetch our dressing-gowns - and get a bottle or two of Champagne? Hurry on, my friend (guffaws) - thee so sharp of tongue and swift of limb

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H grumbles his way to and from LD's

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SBD: Give me a hoist to shore, Hobby - you must have a good hand for something other than losing all our ready money

H(fuming): Certainly, Scrope (hoists S from water) - my, there's a fine tummy! (S reddens) - incidentally - and somewhat irrelevantly - I have lately heard whispers at the Cocoa Tree that your genealogy was ennobled by a collateral tie with Beardmore, Chirurgeon and Dentist to Royalty (to B) - a Southwell inmate, Byron - tell me Davies, why conceal a lineage so noble?

B: My dear H! (jumps from the sea-foam) - that was cruel - it was insulting - it was unnecessary! 'Tis not for you his ancestral tree to ogle! 

H: Perchance it is the unlucky blood of the Davies' - is it not? - losing rattling teeth is much like losing at rattling dice, what?

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Scrope seizes H by the throat - H seizes a bottle in self-defence - stabs Scrope in the shoulder to avoid being throttled

 

B: Hellas! - mind the champagne, thou vinous varlets!!

 

Scrope falls, bathed in blood and wine - B bravely salvages the remains of the Champagne

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B: Good god, gentlemen! (inspects wound) - no, tis but long and broad - not deep or dangerous 

SBD: You ******** Hobhouse, son of a ********* - the milliners fright - the ********* delight - fight me ***** like a gentleman (raises fists as per John Jackson's instructions) - go ****** you ****** zoophyte!

H: Do remember you're a south-paw, Davies - protect your fine teeth with your left - t'would not do to be disfigured before the ladies 

SBD: Call me a post-chaise Byron! - I'm away to shoot myself with your trusty iron

B: I cannot lend my Mantons, dear Scrope - in case of suicide, they would become a deodand to the King - you understand, I hope​

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SBD runs up the hill to LD's - cursing extravagantly 

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X

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SCENE 4

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Morning at Lord Devlin's

 

LD: What was that surgeon doing here, Major Cooper? My duck has been effectively evacuated

MC: Oh, well done(winces) - seemingly, there was a minor incident between a champagne bottle and Mr. Davies' sensitivities re. his dental origin

LD: Mmm - just so? The way he struts and preens - why, I fancied him like Buonaparte - a little Corsican

CM: Oui - this insult - it caused a tout-puissante quarrel between Mr. Hobhouse and himself

MC: 'Twould seem cool reflection prevailed and, by dint of loss of blood, and a sticking plaister - all is healed - along with the wound

CM(flourishes hands in a Frankish manner): All le noise and ruckus frightened off mon pauvre Mademoiselle Camerone - tsk!pfft! - our night of love was doomed!

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SBD and H enter

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SBD: Morning all - apologies, gentlemen for my manners last eve (sheepishly) - for I was devoured with Chagrin - raging with the fumes of the evening’s wine to an insane degree - that the pernicious exercise of midnight gambling soundly unmanned me

H: For myself - the number of my friends is but small, and I can but ill afford to lose one of them (to SBD), especially if that one be yourself

SBD: It is poor sport methinks, Hobby - what is twenty guineas to waste on but what we choose? There shall always be fresh guineas for us to lose (whips out The Racing Post and his accounting book)

H: My lord - we shall have to abbreviate our holiday, many th...

​SBD: ...by the larkins! (consults book) - I count 9, 3, 7 - why we're a guinea short! Where is Byron? 

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B saunters in 

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B: Heigh ho, saucy Tom!

H: Byron - you shameless swindler!

SBD: Audacious scoundrel!

CM: Mademoiselle Camerone!

B: Morning all - I have been assisting Miss Cameron's reading, arithmetic, and geo-political understanding of our Commonwealth - and am delighted to inform you that I have perfectly recovered my heart - and my health

CC: Yeah, he 'as

SBD: Our entire guinea - to Miss Cameron?! (stares, somewhat admiringly)

B: Some fellow-feeling, if you would Scrope - one guinea for one month's very long and painful continence!

CM: I will take that guinea Mademoiselle Camerone - you cannot gaily deceive two of us! Tricheuse strumpette! (flounces out, with guinea)

H: I do not much wonder at the expense, considering the state in which Miss Cameron left you a month ago (CC smirks) and that verily costing more than my quarterly allowance (growls) - yea, to the very last tuppence

SBD: We shall not begrudge it, Byron - a more severe saint than yourself could not forgo the caresses of Miss Cameron(bows) - no matter how Pearson may misjudge it

​​B: Hobby - Scrope - I shall repay you both with either dedications or fairly-borrowed quips in my future rhymes - now, shall we shake hands on our dearly recover'd friendship - and return to the smog and soot of more profitable climes?​​​

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The skirmish is forgotten - the three lads continue as friends as before and for years after - CC rides shotgun whilst reading ‘ The Dunciad' and swigging the dregs of Pearson's Restoration

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X

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END