Cast

Lord Byron

JC Hobhouse

SB Davies

Fletcher

Joe Grimaldi

Colonel Berkeley

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SCENE 1

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1812, Bennet Street , Byron's HQ  - Hobhouse storms in

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H: I've been double-knocking all week Byron - are you avoiding me again? (grumbles) indulging in vulgar exercises I'll wager (looks behind screen) - boxing, gambling - sword fighting, spitting, cursing

B: None of the above, my dear Hobby - I have been much occupied with other amusements

H: Ha - that French ballet/whore master D’Egville, I don't doubt!

B: No - I'm on the Pearsons at the moment - come, Hobby - I have a marvellous treat for you. Fletcher, have you iced the champagne?
H: Who is she - and why am I meeting her? (pales) - you're not - ah! - engaged are you Byron?

B(splutters): Good god man - would I be in such ravishing form if I were? - no, I am expecting the Aristocrat of Harlequins and his company here at any minute

H: Kean! - Kean is coming here?

B: Oh vastly better! (covers Jenny the proprietorial parrot's cage) - you know, I have always patronised The Master's benefits - yea, passed on my effusive compliments, fivers, and snuff-boxes - in the wings I have gasped in amazement at his extravagant naturalness - although last eve that poltroon Fletcher (grinds teeth) hurled an apple pie at him mid-somersault - which caught him quite off-guard - but now, I shall finally shake the greasepainted paw of that unapproached genius 

H: Who the devil are you spluttering about?

B: The King of Pantaloonery - Mr. Grimaldi of course - sit, no stand - Fletcher!! can you see a carriage - perchance with a buffoon strapped to its roof ?

F: Nothing yet my Lord

H: A CLOWN! In your private quarters? Have you gone mad? 

B: He, in Italy, is referred to as an actor, Hobby - the true abstract of Clownery and duly revered - so take your snout from the skies, my good man

F: My lord - a note

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B reads, and darkens

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H(chortles): He has perchance tripped over his shoes, broken his nose, and been bitten on the arse by a goose, yes? 

B: 'Twould seem he has chosen another engagement to honour

H(grabs note): “My Lord, unfortunately I am unable to heed your kind invitation as the dog ate my evening slippers, regards, J. Grimaldi"

B: Take the wine away, Fletcher - I shall be going to bed

F: Yes my Lord

H: My friend - (thinks quick) - I possess an invitation, extended solely on the proviso that I bring yourself, from Colonel Berkeley, of Berkeley Castle fame, to course for rabbits - Scrope will join the party if you are of it - what say you? - will you come? 

B: Scrope? (brightens) - I will! - and be damned if that sausage-stealing marvel of tomfoolery gets the better of me!

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​​SCENE 2

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Berkeley Castle, home of said Colonel Berkeley

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CB: Welcome gentlemen - my Lord Byron - I hope we can entertain the poet of the moment, eh wot! ha - we're fond of country pursuits here - shooting and fishing in the main - followed with no excess decorum by the eating of same - eh wot? ha - we can rhyme too here in Gloucestershire - er - one hopes you bought your riding habit - for the fox shall rest this day as we hunt for rabbit! ha - we shall have a merry time of it - er (strains to rhyme) er..

H(interrupts): er - 'tis most kind of you to include us, Colonel

CB: The more the merrier - unless you're a harrier, eh what Byron? ha

B: Charmed (is irritated) - I shall sit out the shooting for I am a vegetarian - except for fish and the odd collar of brawn

CB: No shooting my Lord?

B: A misunderstanding I fear - I naturally presumed the invitation “hunting on the manor" was code for intrigues (to H and SBD) - I shall perhaps repair to the races at Cheltenham

CB: Ah you missed your chance there as well my Lord - for Grimaldi the clown has just finished performing at Mr. Watson's theatre

B: Grimaldi! Here - in Gloucestershire? 

H: In Gloucestershire - and not Bennet Street, Byron - how do you rate your genius of the strangling sausages now, eh!

CB: 'Twould be a shame to leave us, for he has an invitation to come shooting here this very day

B: Is that right? - well - your library is certainly well stocked - your fires ample - 2 of your 27 housemaids acceptable - Devil be in it! I'll stay - Mr. Grimaldi and I have business, of a kind

CB: Marvellous - gentlemen, your guns

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A hunting horn shatters the peace - B heads for the kitchen maids - SBD spies Grimaldi attempting a grey mare

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SBD: Mr. Grimaldi?

G(disentangles himself from stirrup): 'Tis I (squints) I know you - certes we have met?

SBD: Indeed we have - in many a green room (whispers) - I believe you have never met my friend and our fellow guest, Lord Byron?

G: Lord Byron! is he here?(growls) did his man Fletcher accompany him? 

SBD: He did not - but why do you ask, pray?

G: Mr. Brougham, a man at law, informed me that his Lordship's valet was seen hurling apple pie during my last performance - a fierce scurvy trick of the parsimonious school of comedy - I thence proceeded to demean a kind invitation to meet his Master and have felt it a keen disgrace since

SBD: Pooh! he never holds a grudge - think nothing of it - as for that scourge Brougham, the inelastic Fletcher would never waste comestibles (walks G away from the party) at any rate, I came to warn you that if you are fortunate enough to be seated next to him, it is as well to know that Byron is very courteous at the dinner-table, but does not like to have his courtesy thrown away, or slighted; I would recommend you, if he asks you to take anything - as he is almost sure to do - no matter whether it be to eat or drink, not to refuse. It is one of his lordship's peculiarities - a trifling but still distinguishing one - the deviance from which horrifies him to his very tonsils

G: Indeed I shall - I thank you for the warning

SBD: Yes - well, you're welcome (smirks)

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SCENE 3

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Evening - guests are herded into the dining room

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CB: Ah! - Lord Byron - over here! - (Byron remains by mantle-piece) - oh well! Beauty will have his way eh?! - come with me Grimaldi

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CB and G make their way to the mantlepiece - G's nerves belie his skill as a veteran performer

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CB: My Lord Byron - may I present Mr. Joe Grimaldi - beware my Lord! - for one never knows which guest Grimaldi will transform into a feature of his harlequinade!

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B makes several deep, very low bows

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B(with a marked degree of hauteur): What a very great honour to finally meet the most esteemed vaudevillian of our age, Mr. Grimaldi (bows again) - 'tis to my great and unbounded satisfaction to become acquainted with a man of such rare and profound talents (continues bowing) my pleasure could not be exceed had I annihilated an entire species of rabbit this morning

G: er, likewise my most gracious Lord (makes a face expressive of mingled gratification and suspicion) I thank you, my Lord (returns all the bows threefold with increasing amount of discomfort - hysterics are heard around the room - B's head is on fire)​

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G is indeed placed next to Byron - Hobhouse and SBD sit opposite

 

B: Now then Joe - I may call you Joe? - will you be feasting on today's game?

G(looks to SBD): Of course, I have been licking my chops since we fired the first round 

B: With cheese on top - like the Welsh have it?

G: Ah - well, certainly - cheese?

B: Here, I shall put a cherry where his nose once was - yes, and oysters for his ears - an unctuous plating, I'm sure you'll agree (shoves plate under G's nose) - tradition has it that rabbit must be chased down with Moonshine - do you know what that is Joe?

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SBD and H cough and glare at B

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B: Hooch, Poitín, Rot Gut, White Lightning..

H: Byron! I'm sure the Colonel would not keep 90% proof  liquor within reach of a hunting party

B: I bought my own - here Joe - knock it back with that leg of lapin

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G gets through the unctuous dish and coma-inducing booze 

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B: I have taken the liberty of ordering an apple pie for you (G starts) - marvellous pastry cook here - Susan? (Susan waves and brings over a wheel of a pie, and a gallon of cream) - I have it on good, albeit idiotic, authority how elegantly you dispose of an apple pie if one unexpectedly lands atop your head

G(catches B's eye, sternly): Such an insult from the audience, especially one originating from a nobleman's empty box - you'd agree my Lord - should not be tolerated, yes? (scowls) Pie-throwing is such a frowned-upon device that exclusion from the upper echelons of the Union of Professional Comicalities often results 

B: Insult! - woe betide personal insults, Mr. Grimaldi! Woe indeed to spoiled Champagne, wasted sea-coal and the obligations of fame! (smothers pie with cream) - here, Joe - better in your gullet than on your face, no?

G: I have an early performance in Gloucester, my Lord

B: Oh - I forgot the Soy - Susan!

G: Soy sauce?

B: Yes, soy: it is very good with salmon, and therefore it must be exquisite with apple-pie

G(shakes the sauce): Unholy fires! (pulls a variety of faces at the noxious dish) - I cannot! No I cannot!

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The company stares down the table to see G hurl the dish, and the moonshine, into the fire - vast explosions occur

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CB(panics): Evacuate - I mean - leave the house!! Everyone out!! - Mr. Hobhouse - grab the game - and Susan!!

B: Never mind that! - Susan - water, and buckets of it - Pronto! 

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Susan douses fire - the smoke clears and the company is left staring at G standing on the table in scorched formal attire, completely covered in apple pie and cream - all gathered laugh hysterically

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CB: An immortal evening Mr. Grimaldi! (shakes his hand) - oh! such a performance! as fine as one would see in Drury Lane or Covent Garden (applause and cheers all round) - and didn't we think it was his Lordship who would provide the evening's entertainment!

B: Nay Colonel, for acute observation upon the foibles and absurdities of society, Mr. Grimaldi is a finer satyrist than all the poets and caricaturists of our age (raises glass) - to genius - with or without evening slippers!

G(raises glass): To the sporting nobleman who, despite not firing a shot this day, with greater patience sought his prey - and who - under cover of dark - most decisively hit his mark! - to you, my Lord!

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Evening ends with B and G singing “Tippitywitchit” by the light of the leftover moonshine

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​END

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