FILL THE GOBLET AGAIN

 

r

Cast

Lord Byron

Fletcher

Taffy

Susan

John Cam Hobhouse

Scrope B Davies

Charles S Matthews

​

​r

a Song

(not a short play)​

​​

Newstead 1809 - the friends are at the warbling end of a farewell pre-holiday session - their tune reminiscent of  ‘Sara' ™ © by Bob Dylan ™ ©

​

SBD: Fill the goblet again! for I never before
Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;
Let us drink! - who would not? - since, through life's varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found

 

B: Fletcher!? oh - Fletcher! you gormless poltroon - oh bane of my life

F: Yes my lord

B: Mr. Davies is bereft of libation

F(panics): The cellar is almost empty - indeed there are but three bottles of Mead - laid down in the time of the monks - left, my lord

B: Heigh ho! (grinds teeth) - by the good graces of Scrope Davies' turf accountant, myself and Hobby will soon be shut of this tight little island (kicks fire) and mother's hectoring hysterics - Hanson's pleading pockets - several pouting poetasters (sinks in chair) - 'tis all very provoking (slurps the burgundy) 

Hobby: I have tried in its turn all that life can supply;
I have bask'd in the beam of a dark rolling eye;
I have lov'd! - who has not? - but what heart can declare
That Pleasure existed while Passion was there?

​

B: Taffy - oh! Taffy - that sumptuous Welsh witch - week-long love of my life!

F: The girls are out mending the driveway, my Lord

B: Who else has a dark rolling eye about here, Fletcher? - Mr. Hobhouse desires some basking - me, I've enough dark rolling eyes for several lifetimes 

F: Susan - the flat-faced Warwickshire bed-maker? (sneers at H) - what does he be wanting with a dark eye? - it's a black eye he oftener gets!

B: You are somewhat too au fait with our Lobby scrapes Fletcher? (frowns) have you a piece on the Town?

F: Aye - a sweet virgin angel (general guffawing) - the love of my life!

B: In the days of my youth, when the heart's in its spring,
And dreams that Affection can never take wing,
I had friends! - who has not? - but what tongue will avow,
That friends, rosy wine! are so faithful as thou?

H: Byron! - oh Byron! - how you hurt those you love with words that can bite!

B: pfft - Hobby - how dull are e'en boon-companions without wine?

H: Perchance you are right (holds burgundy up to the candlelight) - radiant jewel, such mystical strife 

SBD: So easy to look at (swills) so hard to define (spits)
M: Lovin’ wine is the one - out of many - botanical experiences I’ll never regret

SBD(stands, toasts): My friends - where'er you travel - we’re never apart! - though, please - don't forget my remittances, the dice is doing me no favours of late (falls)

​​

Matthews: The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange,
Friendship shifts with the sunbeam - thou never canst change;
Thou grow'st old - who does not? - but on earth what appears,
Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its years?

B: Matthews - oh! Matthews - how I inhale to my intestines your inchoate thoughts!

M: Byron - oh! Byron - beauteous poet, so dear to my dreams! - (whispers) mind that Hobby whilst on the road - he is cursed with a big hot head on a cold little body
H: What? what say you (growls) you Scorpio Sphinx!
M: You must forgive me my unworthiness dear man - I confess, I have been at the Mead 

​​

SBD: Yet if blest to the utmost that Love can bestow,
Should a rival bow down to our idol below,
We are jealous! - who's not? - thou hast no such alloy;
For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy.

B: Scrooples - oh Scrooples! - I wish you, too, were crossing Earths equinoctial line!

S: My little Dormeuse dislikes sea-water - and certes, Cheltenham is lining up quite remarkably this year 

B(inattentive): A coach replete with cellar would be a fantastical notion - och and oons!

H: “Och and oons"?! Why? what are we travelling in? not Post surely!!

B: Boats, Hobby - boats and horses solely (H is downcast) - glamorous nymphs in calico dresses may piggy-back us over shallow streams - (wags finger) there's no comfort for those that go a-roving, my friend

 

Hobby: Then the season of youth and its vanities past,
For refuge we fly to the goblet at last;
There we find - do we not? - in the flow of the soul,
That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl

​

B: Hobby- oh Hobby - somewhat annoying - yet the bone in my back!

H: Father doesn't know where I'm going - thinks I'm off to study town planning in Düsseldorf

SBD: Where are Taffy and Susan? - my slippers need warming - ah! - how I'd love Newstead to be my own - I'd never leave the bath - no, I put the bath in the cellar - where do the girls reside - (yells) Taffy!!

F: They're mending the roof tiles at the moment Mr. Davies - shan't be much longer

​

Taffy & Susan: When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth,
And Misery's triumph commenc'd over Mirth,
Hope was left, - was she not? - but the goblet we kiss,
And care not for Hope, who are certain of bliss

​

ALL: Taffy! - and Susan! our sweet, labouring nymphs - what a sight for sore heads!

T: Have ye been at that Mead? 

B: Are there no other spirits left in the house? 'tis but the noon of night!

​S(smirks): We won't be talking of Spirits at this hour, my Lord (B looks affright)

SBD: Taffy - fair Susan - our friends, and your Lord and Master, are leaving us in the morn (girls weep) here is my card - you are quite free to visit me 'ere you feel lonesome

B: A poacher, Scrope, should at least wait 'til the gamekeeper is asleep! (frowns) now, we shall (looks around) - Taffy! come here! - raise our glasses on this blessèd spot once more 'ere we part:

​​​​

ALL: Long life to the grape! for when summer is flown,
The age of our nectar shall gladden our own:
We must die - who shall not? - May our sins be forgiven,
And Hebe shall never be idle in Heaven!

​

​​​r

END​