ON NEVER LEAVING

NEWSTEAD ABBEY

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                                                 SCENE 1

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1810 the Capuchin convent, Athens - F brings in the post

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B(rifling letters): Hanson! he's due an almighty fillip on the nose - he must be insane not to have answered my letters - unless my finances are in perfect repair? - rents coming in - coal hauling itself out of  my mines - upholsterers being paid? -  Scrope on an exceptionally lucky streak (paces) - Fletcher!! are you certain there are no others?

F (shuffling): er - 

B: What is it?

F: There is a packet in the 'giardino' - (becomes distressed) - but those Albanian washer-women run pins into my backside whenever I try to get them

B: Ha! Vive l’Amour!  

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Fresh tomatoes are projectiled into Byron's room from scamps in the garden

 

B: The basket Fletcher! (B and F return fire, with oranges) - oons! with these peltings and playings - I feel I am in fact at school again (eats intact tomato) - I require those letters Fletcher - (hands him a scarlet uniform) - here, this is canon-ball proof - it should bear washer-woman pins 

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Fletcher braves the 'giardino'- runs the gauntlet of  this traditional Albanian flirting ritual to fetch Hanson's letter

 

B(angry): Hanson tells me I am ruined!- worse - the hall of my fathers has gone to decay - in my once smiling garden the hemlock and thistle have choked up the rose which late bloom’d in the way (sinks into the orange basket)

F: Heaven help us! - We are not returning to the hall of your fathers my Lord?!

B(Byronic hackles rising): It is in the power of God, the Devil, and Man, to make me poor and miserable!! - but

neither the second nor third shall make me sell Newstead - No, οΧι, yok, yeo (Albanesico ) Noa  (Nottinghamshirico) Naw, (µη, ούκ)

F: Speaking as a vassal - I would serve my Master from Europe to Palestine’s plain with an escutcheon and shield!

B: Thanks -  not quite necessary as yet Fletcher - we musts return asap and save the only sad vestiges that remain

F: I'll tell the washer-women to get up your linen

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B ponders and plans

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B: mmm - perchance, I shall sit it out in Athens for aye, six months as I need more material for my Epic - plus I am not  yet a competent Italoquist - (a hefty round of strawberries hits the window). My somewhat encumbering Fletcher (smiles at F) - you shall be the advance party - take my letters and deeds - and Hobhouse's marbles - Hanson will honour your backpay and supply you with a small farm or mill on upon your return - or perhaps a tavern near Rochdale?

F: I should prefer to be in dear Newstead my Lord (starts packing) - I shall have to bid farewell to my mistresses - and the washer-women 

B: Be sure to, 'ere curses will be heaped - like my coals- upon your head (pats F on the shoulder) - get thee home to pots of beer, beef cheeks, tea, soft beds and English as she is properly spake - Off, off to the seat of my  ancestors - by way of Malta (gives F a gold crown) there my good fellow- although you're a linguistic chauvinist, you have served me very faithfully

F (tears up): I bid you adieu my Lord - I'll pray for you abroad - be sure to take courage dressing and travelling alone - I'll be thinking upon the glory of your Quartos

​B: (to self  - ah me! (takes breath) - now I can go and I can fly - freely to the Green Earths end - and taste a freedom and joy I shall probably never know again) 

 

A juicy tomato lands on B's latest MS

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​​SCENE 2

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After a traumatic sea-journey to Malta - and finding that Hanson had not forwarded any money at all - F finds his way t0 London

 

H's secretary: Mr. Hanson,  there's a Notts yeoman - burnt to a cinder - covered in boils and flea bites - to see you

H: Oh good god - is that you Fletcher? (holds nose) - you look like you've been asleep in the valley of Cressy!

F: Yes 'tis - both my Lord and my'sen are outraged at your late conduct - you left me in Malta begging my passage home! - 4 moths at sea with only biskeat!

H: pfft - give me that sealed letter

F: My lord demands my £250 back pay and the refusal of a mill or farm at Newstead -  he desired it may be paid  as soon as possible

H: I can read you yokel - (rips seal) - he's broke - there'll be nothing for you - and there's howlers whistling through the battlements of Newstead - perhaps there's a patch near Askalon’s towers, where John of Horistan slumbers, where you and one of your wives can set up camp

F(in a rage): My lord will disperse with your services when he returns from out foreign - he told me you were a villain!

H: heh heh - he never shall - my wife has been a second mother to him - he is well-caught in the Hanson Family Web (smirks, reads letter) - what? there is nothing here about selling the hall of his fathers?!

F: My lord said - on one cloudless night of starry skies - that should he ever be induced to sell, he will pass his life abroad, as his only tie to England is Newstead - and that once gone, not Intrest Nor inclination would lead him northward from his convent in Athens - which he loves immoderately

H: That is an excellent report, for I have several buyers in my own league lined up for purchase - off to the North with you man! - take your pleas and your fleas with you!

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Fletcher arrives in Newstead - half-dead after walking for a week

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F: Newstead! Thanks be to God - I'm home! - where's my Sally! my beer and bed (runs into hall)

CGB: Fletcher! -  you look like one of our mail-cover’d Barons! (hands F carbolic soap) Have you bought a bushel of pearls not larger than ostrich eggs or smaller than walnuts eggs, attar of roses and cherry brandy? Is Byron married to a Sultana with half a score cities for a dowry? Has Hanson provided funds? (grabs him by the collar and throws him into the lake) - have a good scrub there Fletcher - I'll prepare one of the better-appointed caves for yourself and Sally

F(scrubbing himself with a swan):  I have no objection to work in the Garding as it is in so Ruinous Condition but I must have my pay

CGB: Money? - you should not get it this six months - if then

F(emerging from the lake):  You are turning his Lordships Servant away? that is a New One - you vixen! - with out Either wages or warning! why ma'am, I know his honour will not let you do a Rong thing to Injure a Servant

CGB: Och! If you haven't grown a refined as well as resigned character - I am sure you will become an ornament to the  parish

F: Aye ma'am - My Lord says I am to become a very prominent person in the future family pedigree of the Fletchers whom he takes to be Goths by our accomplishments, Greeks by our acuteness, and ancient Saxons by our appetites

CGB: You are quoting I presume! Very well ye pitiful vagabond  - you shall stay and wait out until his Lordship returns from Ægypt

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SCENE 3

​Back in Athens, Byron prepares to return home

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B: Oh Nicolo! That devil's shoehorn Hanson has sent no remittances - I shall n'er visit the Pyramids & Palestine! Scrope and all my acquaintance of financial obligation urge - with all requisite formality - my return - worse, my dear friend! - I am running out of specie to pay you

N: I shall replace Milord Fletcher as your valet!

B: A valet is a Lord to no man Nicolo - you will learn that if we make it as far as Blighty

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Lord Sligo enters

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LS: Morning Byron- Buongiorno Nicolo - how wretched you are Byron! Are you leaving Athens for Notts? Are you being dunned ultramontanedly?

B: Deuced if I amn't!! The difference in the value of money in the East! - the abundance of the necessaries of life - every luxury at an less expense than a common college life in England (sits in despair) - I am to return to cold green tea and hard tack? - never again partake of the divan and have my grapes peeled by moonlight?!!

LS: Sink me Byron, if your college life wasn't quite as luxurious!

B: And how it has bitten me in the nethers! Ay me Sligo! - I feel myself so much a citizen of the world, of this blessèd spot, nay, in fact all the shores of the Archipelago and their delicious climate - that this will always be the country for me

N: Our ship leaves in but two hours Milord

LS: Truth is, Byron - if you sell Newstead, you could continue with the divan into - yea - the next three generations of Lord Ali Byrons

B: Mother tells me it is worth £100k - yet I cannot raise a shilling for my Italian lessons - if I preserve Newstead, I return, if I sell it, I stay away?- nay - 'tis plain (Byronic blood heckles) - I must set out for Lancashire (groans) for I shall neither have coals or comfort till I visit Rochdale in person

LS(pats B on back): There Byron! - even the most social and fantastical marchings and countermarchings must come to an end - besides the ex-pats here quite despise you for mixing with the locals

B(breathes deep): Yes, I shall have to give my Tartar, Albanians, Buffo, and my amiable παιδη their notice 

N: I have packed the Greeks and your tortoises Milord - our ship awaits

LS: The very best Byron - yours won't be the first ancient pile to fall to a parvenu of the City stripe - other worlds old boy - other worlds! Adieu!

B: Adieu Sligo -(looks out wistfully at the massacred convent garden, and Hymettus beyond) - Shades of heroes, farewell! your lineal descendant, departing, bids you adieu! Abroad, or at home, your remembrance - imparting new courage - I’ll think upon glory and you

N: Dio Milord! does a tear dim your eye at this sad separation? - 'tis nature, not fear, that excites your regret! (picks up B's basket of oranges) - to Newstead Milord!

B: yea, to mingle my dust with a house of silly women prating scandalous things and necking my finest champagne - sheesh and oons - (turns to see the Acropolis) - farewell Athens - like you will I live, or like you will I perish!

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