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Cast

Lord Byron

Angelina

Angelina's Papa

Fletcher

Parish Priest

Countess Vorsperg

Tita - B's Gondolier

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SCENE 1

 

Venice, 1819 

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B: Fletcher!!

F: Yes my Lord

B: A vase for this little posy  - do you not think it pretty? - such small little flowers, as can only be grown in a window-box - my poor Angelina!

F: Who?

B: An old acquaintance of mine Fletcher - a captive of the Commissary of Police, the strictures of ancient nobility, nosy neighbours - and her flinty-hearted, truculent tyrant father

F: She's a nun?

B: No, you blockhead - she is being held in her own palazzo (sniffs posy) - such a pretty - sweet-tempered - quiet, feminine being as ever you saw - she throws bouquets into the gondola whene'er I pass - a tribute to Tita's rowing skills - or my riding breeches - whether or which - I admit to being quite, quite charmed after three years in the service of your more veteran milliners

F: Quiet my Lord! (panics) - does Margarita know? (looks into hallway)
B: Nothing to fear Fletcher - for I have never actually had the pleasure - her Parish Priest has seen to that (grinds teeth)

F: She is unmarried! My Lord - these be Italian morality!  -  a catastrophy awaits my Lord, an 1816-level catastrophy! 

B: Unmarried - and uncompromised - and I intend to keep it that way - for I am damnably in love, and mercifully that she is married

F: That Contessa has left a note via her maid - (mumbles) - 't warn thee my Lord - she and Tita seem cosi fan tutti

B: Have one of your pieces teach you a few comprehensible words of Italian - three years Fletcher! lord above - now,  take care of those flowers - put them in my principal bedroom where I can see them

F: Yes my Lord

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B sits, smokes and twirls his quill

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B: Tricky - damned tricky - juggling an awful lot at the moment - mmm - shall have to pension off my Nine Muses - dash it! "my system is terrible"! - sayeth the castrato Chevalier Mengaldo! - an excellent swimmer but what a hypocrite! - would keep a well-stocked casino too if he could afford it  - NO! - I am in love and must shut up shop!

T: Buongiorno Milord

B: Ah Tita! - have you a note for me?

T: I have two Milord - I found this one (holds up slightly soggy note) -  just thrown into our gondola, along with these little pansies

B(opens both): Yikes - and oons! Thankyou Tita - even your gentle ministrations cannot detangle my current dilemma

T: Scuse, milord - er - Miss Fanny said 'the G' - I know not who that is - requires an immediate answer

B: Does she by God!? (remembers he is in love with 'the G') - of course - wait there

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B dashes off a passionate declaration of love and promises of lifestyle changes - double-checks addressee

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B: Thankyou Tita 

T: Milord (bows, departs)

B: That does it !- bien sûr it is to Romagna I go (shrugs) - but I can't leave my Adriatic nymph dangling out her balcony in this weather - I shall pay a visit live in person and put our chaste liaison to rest, probably

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SCENE 2

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A red-hot Conversazione at Contessa Benzone’s 

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CB: Byron - you are not leaving already? - there is no moon out tonight - you perchance could meet with an accident on our slippery old stones, steps or bridges

B: I must - I have an unusual rendezvous - a puzzle to solve (kisses hand and is lunged at voluptuously)- no, grazie Contessa (ponders momentarily on the number of Contessas he has in hand)

CB: The best of luck with both of them milord (smirks)

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B and T row down the Grand Canal until they reach Angelina's palazzo

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T: Your dama's window is grated milord - shall I get the bolt-cutters?

B(laughs): Fenced with iron within and without - to let the lover in, or the lady out! - mind not, Tita - I have the skill of a harlequin re. jumping and balancing - just give me a lift up - and return for me in - yea, two - nay - four hours hence

T: Si, milord 

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T hands B onto balcony ledge - B slips and falls into canal

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B: Merde! - row on Tita - I shall help myself from here 

T: Si, milord - but you are soaked and will bring on a tertian (B drapes himself across balcony) ah! - take care with that maiden - and her Papa - milord (T gently rows off into the moonless night) 

B: Angelina - hurry - the husk of my immortal kernel is shivering!

A(whispers): Wait until my candle goes out - that's the sign Papa has gone to his casino

B:My blood is chilling and my sides are shaking, Angelina! I flounced like a carp into the canal- and I am drenched! 

A: I too am drenched with love - but we shall have to wait mio Byron!

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B waits, perched - dripping like a Triton - on the balcony for a good two hours

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A(opens window): At last Byron - Papa is gone - Dio! your drapery is dripping - I shall fetch fresh towels and flannel pyjamas for you

B: Towels will do - mio piccolo amica (kisses A's fairy hand) 

A: Take care! - our neighbour, the Countess Vorsperg, has been knocking spy-holes through our joining walls all week - we must whisper - Mama is asleep 

B: What of the servants?

A: As always, the common people are on the side of love!

B(sneezes): Finally Angelina - we are alone

A: Si - no Byron! - there shall be no kissing until you divorce your English wife

B: It can not be done (muses) perchance in Scotland? - but I may have to return - mmm - that would be a heavy scene - no! - my Angelina - in England the only divorce available is for female infidelity

A: And pray, how do you know what she may have been doing these last three years?

B: I could not tell - the status of Cuckoldom is not quite so flourishing in Great Britain as with us here, in Venice

A: pffft! - can't you get rid of her some other way?

B: Not more than I've done already (laughs) - what? would you have me - poison her? (aghast)

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A smiles sweetly - and says nothing - B remains aghast 

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SCENE 3

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B returns to the palazzo

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B: Fletcher!! - my dressing gown

F(in a state): Notes from the Contessa G. have been spewing in all night my Lord - Fanny and Tita are occupying all the best bedrooms - the monkey has scratched my face - where have you been so late into the night?

B: Enough Fletcher! - I have had travails of my own (sits and stirs fire). Fletcher? - at any point in your liaisons, have any of your washerwomen asked you to poison the others?

F(shrugs): Aye - they poison each other all the time

B: Zounds! - such a true and odd national trait, for the passions of a sunny soil are paramount to all other considerations (sneezes) - Fletcher - fetch me a hot Toddy - with extra Toddy

F: Yes, my Lord

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La Fornarina hauls a gaggle of irate petitioners into B's grand salon

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Papa: It is the Lord Byron - is it not? Please dress yourself with decorum Sir - I am Angelina père!

B: Fletcher

F: I'll get the Mantons

Papa: My neighbour, the Countess Vorsperg here, tells me you paid a visit to my unspotted daughter this evening!

V: You forgot ze spy hole in ze  pyjama closet, ze Englischer Lord

B(outraged): Outrageous! - in England we do not spy for scandalous extra-maritals - we gossip and rumour-monger with skill and speed (shakes head at intruders) for shame! - and you, her Parish Priest!

PP: Milord - you must understand that in Italy, an unmarried girl naturally wishes to be married  

Papa(distraught):Bread and water - prayers and pleadings - did not appease my determined daughter

V: If she can marry and love at the same time, it is a good plan - at any rate she must love - but not love a married English man

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B calms and paces

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B: I respect your earnest petitions - and on my honour as an acknowledged keeper of Nine Muses - I left her as sweet-tempered and quiet a being as I found her - and wish nothing so much as a respectable seventy year old husband for her

Papa: Very well - shall we part as gentlemen?

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All shake hands, the Countess slips a note into B's hand - La Fornarina throws the visitors downstairs

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F and B look astoundedly at each other 

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B: Great Pharoh's ghost! Why, the unctuous irony of it, my faithful yeoman! - Never a father or husband or brother - yea, father confessor - of any of my 2000 unlawful loves - and who could, in truth, claim justification - have ever harassed my door

F(faces B): 'Twas too close this time my Lord! The Mantons were ready! (weeps, a bit). If I may sue my Lord - 'twould appear your sword has outworn its sheath - though you are in the early stages of a tertian - though your heart be still as loving - (throws note from Countess V into fire) - fly to your Contessa G in Romagna - and, pray,  please go no more a-roving 

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B is already snoring unevenly by the fire, with his monkey - F covers him with a fur-trimmed pelisse and starts packing for Ravenna

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END

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