epistle to a friend in answer

to some lines Exhorting the Author

to be Cheerful, and to Banish Care​

​

8

CAST
Lord Byron

Joe Murray 

a  Lady (in non-material form)

Boatswain - a dog

Scrope Berdmore Davies

John Cam Hobhouse

9

 

Scene 1

​​​​1811, Newstead Abbey - Byron is poking the fire - Hobhouse has retired

 

B: “Oh! Banish care - such ever be the motto of thy revelry!"

 

Boatswain barks

 

B: There there, my bestest rogue - we are but insects compared to thee (tickles his ears) - “Oh banish care" - what in God's teeth does Hobby mean? To assume a demeanor of merriment? get blindly drunk? - I long to get drunk with Walter Scott and perhaps Hazlitt - he’ll come round after a gallon of Rhenish

 

Murray is shuddering while pouring the port

 

B: Zounds! what ails thee, my good man?

M: If it pleases your Lordship - the mention of insects sets my stomach a-churning

B: Oh quite! The ancestral pet cricket scandals of the 1770 - 80’s! Steady yourself, my fine fellow - pour yourself a large one, do, if you can

​

M obliges

​

B(deeply sighs): Murray - do you perchance ever yearn for times past?

M: Mother of God no, my Lord

B: Why so?

M: The port was always empty

B: Such is my inheritance of woes - heigh ho!

M: Surely my Lord - if I could sue for pardon - there be still wassail nights ahead, where your Lordship could renew those riotous delights, wherewith the children of despair lull the lone heart

B: I thank you for your encouragement, my old, somewhat eloquent retainer - but I feel no inclination to banish care, it looks so well on me - does it not? - somewhat akin to Buonaparte?

M: A knitted brow becomes you, my Lord

B: Quite - (gets up and looks out at his frozen lake) Not in morn’s reflecting hour, when present, past, and future lower, when all I loved is changed or gone, mock with such taunts the woes of one, whose every thought - but be damned to it - let them pass­!

M: Will that be all, my Lord?

B: Thank you Murray - you may now take a bath in the freezing air

 

Murray bows and recedes

8​

 

Scene 2

 

Next morning - Byron is still perplexed and has not slept when Hobhouse is announced

​

B: Devilish early hour this, Hobby

H: I could barely sleep for the impudent counsel I proffered last night (nervously) - sunburn me, Byron! - verily, I expected to be shot in my bed or mauled by your wolf

B: It also cost me a decent night's sleep, you dog! What the devil did you mean - “motto of thy revelry”? - you produced sensations of - er - guilt? - in me - a torrid berating, so it was! I should “focus on my estates and find me a wife” - pfft!!!

H: It was oafish of me - I only wished to cheer you from the frozen scene at dinner last night - you said not a word - everybody was talking about it over port and cigars - verily, it has the makings of a minor local scandal

B(ferocious): Pray tell Hobby - how would you feel?!! - I’ve seen my bride another’s bride! - have seen her seated by his side! - worse yet - have seen the infant, which she bore, wear the sweet smile the mother wore when she and I in youth had smiled (pokes fire) - as fond and faultless as her child

H: My dear Byron - why, I knew not! - never having had such feelings myself of love..

B(thunders): By all the powers that men revere, by all unto thy bosom dear, thy joys below, thy hopes above! Hobby! - speak (bites lip) - speak of anything but love!

H: Have no fear, I shall never attempt a parliamentary rouser again - your misery is deuced irksome

B: Indeed - there is little in my tale that which better bosoms would bewail - but mine has suffer’d more than well ‘twould suit philosophy to tell (Boatswain sits on B's feet)

H: Cracking fire - sea-coal?

B: Damned expensive - nearly choked me t’other night - had to hide in the priest hole

H: Let us return to London, my friend - you shall be distracted from your inextinguishable love for a now-married distant cousin - a round of plays, milliners, and Hazard will set everything right - and Scrope is anxious to see you

B(delighted): Scrope! That singular jester! How it would do my heart good to get facetious with him at the Cocoa Tree - splendid plan Hobhouse! To pack! (calls out) Murray!​

​​

B and H leave for London - Murray returns to his bathing ritual 

8​

​

Scene 3

 

The Cocoa Tree - a gentlemen’s club in St. James

​

SBD: Byron! Holy fires - you look like you’ve had a stroke! (hands him a platter of cold meats and cheeses)

 

B & H sit with SBD - B refuses all sustenance except Champagne and lettuce 

 

SBD(is distressed): Had a loathsome time in the country, my friend? Rents not being paid? Pipes leaking? Cellar creaking?

H(whispers): er - trouble with a callow passion I’m afraid, Scrope

B(to himself): I have seen her eyes, in cold disdain ask if I felt no secret pain! - good god!! - I have acted well my part - and made my cheek belie my heart

SBD: The wisest play, my friend - send the fanciful piece to Hades in a handcart!

B: In sooth, I return’d the freezing glance she gave - yet felt the while that woman’s slave

 

SBD and H look at each other affrightedly

 

SBD: Let us remove to the ballet, eh Byron? D'Egville has a new troupe (is distracted) - aye, such damned toothsome lambkins that canny Frenchman keeps in his flock

H: Excellent idea, call up a hackney - I’ll just finish this fine ham hock (gnaws)

B: Time has not made me love the less (rises from Regency era club chair) - but let this pass!! - I’ll whine no more, nor seek again an Eastern shore - the world befits a busy brain, I’ll hie me to its haunts again!

SBD: Proper order my Lord! - we’ll have you back gambling, drinking and whoring in jig time - and no more will your childish passion haunt you

H(stuffing his pockets with various blue cheeses): Cab’s here!

B: Out into the Great World once again - one rank’d in some recording page with the worst anarchs of the age (mutters to himself) - nor with the effect shall I forget the cause (to SBD and H) - here’s to deepening crimes to suit the sablest of the times!

SBD & H: Huzzah!

 

The three friends launch towards Drury Lane and the delights of the Town​

 

8

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​​​​END