Fragment An Of Epistle to

Tom Moore

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Cast

Lord Byron

Tom Moore

JC Hobhouse

a waiter and a wine-bearing donkey

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SCENE 1

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The Dog & Duck public house, 1814

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B: I am really your “man of all measures”? Tom – damned fine compliment that –

M: ‘Twas more, as we say in Kerry, ‘your man’ – like, d’you know, ‘your man’ – d’you know? (takes snuff – admires new jacket)

B: Ah! The Erse!

M: D’you like my fine broth of a new jacket – my tailor said – could not but be delighted – said  “Sure there’s not much of you there Mr. Moore! – we’ll have to make this cloth work hard to make the man! – (whistles) – charming

B: You should go to my tailor – he does not require payment

M(to waiter): Oysters! And Collar of Brawn – have you a wine list of sorts, somewhere, at all?

B(raises eyebrows): We require no advice from the cellar monkeys, my dear Moore, (to waiter) – we’ll take your liquids alphabetically my good man (waiter bows to ground)

B (raises glass to M): “If our weight breaks them down, and we sink in the flood, We are smother’d, at least, in respectable mud”

M(clinks glass): Mud in your eye my friend – but I have a wife and five children at home – so I must take it a bit handy –

B: Ha! your blad­der is made of rhyme (leans in) I need you, Moore – for I have found myself engaged to a Unitarian

M(chokes on an oyster): Mary and all the more questionable Saints!! Sing ‘Glory to God’ in a spick and span stanza!!

 

M rushes outside to recover his senses

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ACT 2

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B(pats M on the back): My dear Moore – damned if the papers haven’t told you of the fusses, the fetes, and the gapings in my love life

M: I feel it in my waters – it will not fare well

B: There are holes in the roof

M: But you are not in love

B: My friend - I don’t want to be in love

M: mmm, it does limit one’s scope of fun  - plus I’ve made more visits to my tailors in one year than is strictly necessary

B: Sure, there’s nothing like t'other – to quote yourself  Tom (B & M roar)

M: I am one of your most buoyant supporters, but I fear the Divers of Bathos will find you drown’d in a heap

 

Waiter brings wine in on a small donkey

 

B: In sooth – if I end as a  ‘Felo de se,’ who, half drunk with my malmsey, walks out of my depth and gets lost in a calm sea – so much the worse – I must become a husband a provide an Heir to this (points) hair!

​M: You are sadly deficient in whiskers

B: Your demeanour is rather too hearty

M: You know, we are used to quite different graces

B: Tom, you have the prettiest wife I’ve ever seen - in terms of faces

M: The Czar – did you meet him - I own, is much brighter and brisker than our flat-faced Majesty – and, wouldn’t you know it – my lord - in mere breeches whisk’d round in a waltz with the Jersey

B (sighs pitifully): Jersey! I poem’ed her – her hair is very like mine – lovely Sarah!  - ah!

 

The lads look up from their cups with understandable hesitancy – Hobhouse is here

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SCENE 3

 

H does not sit, calls the donkey and places a box on the table

 

B: A cowpox on you Hobhouse!! – Moore and I are making plans for our future

M: Hallo Hobby! How’s the form? Let's have a sing-song - I'll start - (takes a breath deep from the diaphragm)

H(with rage undefined - B is also making arrangements to sing): We are due up North – two days ago! Your wedding present cost me a half-years allowance! Father will enscript me if he finds out!

B: pfttt

M: Not at all my dearest Hobby – we were just going for a swim on the stream of Old Times – here have an ale – Huzzah!! Let’s all do some hexameters

 

Hobhouse throws daggers at Moore, proceeds to pile remaining booze on the donkey

 

H: I am far from dear anything to you Mr. Moore – Byron – you are to be married, sir, married – to a fine young lady with an acceptable upper facial quadrant and but two removes from a tidy fortune – boots on Sir!!

 

Moore turns smiling, somewhat blurry, Irish eyes to Byron

 

B: Tommy, I must fulfil my destiny, ‘twas foretold  - I must suffer an English wife – in order score a fine Italian one

 

B boots up, dons blue coat

 

B: Here’s to you Tom Moore – where’s the wine?

H: Get into the coach Byron – you've no time!!

 

B and M say goodbye without words - or wine

 

H: There’s GOES to you Tom Moore! (snickers delightedly and leads an unstable B out into the closing day)

 

END

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