SCENE 1

 

Albemarle Street, 1816 - Murray and Gifford are wistful

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G: 'Tis a peaceable premises since his Lordship departed, is it not Murray? (sighs) - gone is that perpetual levée of politicians, parsons, scribblers and loungers which that warm-hearted - albeit somewhat irritable - nobleman once drew into the Albemarlian orbit

M: Heigh-ho! I sincerely wish that his happiness may be as unbounded as his Genius (glances at B's portrait) - yes, well - ‘I guess'...

G: Ha! how he marvelled at that ingenious expression of our American cousins

M(sighs): How he did! - anyway, at least my book-spines will be spared the parries of his sword-cane

G: The brandy cellar will remain unmolested

M: I will fear not the intrusions of sundry cloaked and furtive females

G: The challenges of raised Admiralty heckles

M: The impudent impositions issuing from Grub Street 

G: No quarts of magnesia nor deluges of Soda Water

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A knock on the door

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J: A wisp of a lady demands to see you, Mr. Murray

M: Indeed! Do we know her Jimmy? Does she wear a manic aspect?
J: Och - she does that - oh! here she bounds up the stairs!

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J is knocked aside - Caroline L. enters

 

CL: Murray (proffers hand) - who is this? (sneers at G) - is your doorman here of the Scots breed? - won't do for Albemarle street, my dear Murray - ha ha ha - oh! you may laugh, I shall not think you impertinent (throws wrap to floor) - you have missed me have you not, my Murray, I can see tears in your eyes, ah me! (throws gloves to floor) - I have a brace of bird-things outside in my barouche - and some Blenheim spaniels - and fruit baskets - get your man to fetch (J hies it downstairs) now - I have one million of things to say and ask also...

M: Lady Caroline - I must introduce Mr. William Giff...

CL: If you had the smallest tact - or aught else - I should not have troubled you - but you never wrote to tell me that the devil Glenarvon (sighs at portrait) hath returned to London! I was but informed via an explicitly detailed dream scenario I experienced last eve. (M shakes head) Has he grown fat? is he no uglier than he used to be? is he good-humoured or cross-grained, putting his brows down? - does his hair curl or is it straight? how goes his passions - yea - his perverseness (throws herself into M's chair) - do you know the pain and agony you have given me?! When does he arrive at Albemarle street? I shall certainly not see him, neither do I care he should know that I ever asked after him

M: My lady - his Lordship has no plans to return (smirks) - either your nocturnal ‘ dream scenario' was unambiguously just so - or you are addled by conscience - probably the former​​​​​​

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CL is standing on a chair - measuring B's portrait

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​X

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​​SCENE 2

 

A knock on the door

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J: Mr. Waite the dentist to see you, Mr. Murray

M: Excellent - (jumps up - motions to CL to remove herself) - how very good of you to stop by, Lady Caroline

​W: How do Mr. Murray (wheels in large crate) I have his Lordship's toothpastes, badger brushes, silver toothpicks, tinctures, angled molar mirrors

M: Good man, his Lordship is pressing me somewhat forcibly (ekes out sovereign) - I thank you, Waite

CL: Waite? the dentist? What think you of my teeth? are they not unlike pearls on a string of coral? I...

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Waite doffs caps and also legs it downstairs

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CL: God's trousers!! I shall ensure - via my remaining contacts at Court (bites lip) - that this man Waite's inexorable and inhuman conduct shall not be forgiven!

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Muttering is heard on stairs - Jimmy & PBS enter

 

​​J: Sorry, Mr. Murray - I..

PBS(looks to J): Oh - no - please forgive me, young man - I presumed you were Mr. Murray, such is the account I received from Lord Byron re. your youth and vigour Mr. Murray - not to say, your most charming Scots dialect 

CL: Byron?! how know you his lordship?

PBS: er (frowns) Mr. Murray? (bows) - I have been entrusted by his lordship with his latest MS - the third canto of Childe Harold and other mystically, historically pieces - and some Stanzas

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Vast gasps all round

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M: Upon my Soul! - thanks be to God for some spic and span new stanzas! (grabs MS - trembling with auspicious hope) Indeed, I shall keep possession of the field yet!

PBS: If you would observe, Mr. Murray - his Lordship desires me to overlook it's progress towards publication, correction of  proofs etc - it's in a letter - ah! here it is (M stuffs same in pocket) - he feels most anxious that it should be published with as few errata as possible

M(is hypnotised by the MS) : Och! my apologies - his Lordship was always teizing me re. my neglect of the elementary forms (wipes brow) - we have not yet been introduced (bows)

PBS: Shelley - Percy Bysshe Shelley (bows) - I too am a scribbler, though..

CL: Aren't we all Mr. Shelley - you have undoubtedly read my ‘Glenarvon' - most everyone of note has - I....

PBS: Byron's bosom chum, Mr. Davies, too, has a trunk of misc. poesy etc - which he'd like you to compare to the ones now in your possession (casually) it includes something immaterially light of my own - you might cast your eye over - not to intrude (is mortified) - er - I must away to Marlow - you shall not forget Byron's injunctions, Mr Murray? 

M: I shall not Mr. Shelley - and my thanks for conveying such precious cargo

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PBS passes SBD on the stairs 

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SBD: Good day to ye all! (bows - leaps noticeably at the presence of CL) - oons (shivers) - may I present Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster (looks around) - oh! she must be detained by your butler on the stairs - how handsome that Scots man is! 

M: Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster? How do I know that name - oh! (looks to box marked ‘misc. impassioned declarations to B') - ah! yes

SBD: Did she not inspire Byron's own Zuleika? and well she should - for she is the only person I ever beheld in whom was everything that the eye looks for in woman (pours the neglected brandy) - she, and she alone of all whom I have ever seen, has the ‘vultus nimium lubricus aspici’ - that beauty over which the eye glides with giddy delight, incapable of fixing upon any particular charm

G &M: My!

FWW(meekly enters): Good day all 

CL(clenched, somewhat): Hello (proffers hand) - you met me in Brussels - I found you quite artificial - pray, d'you remember? you were salivating over our Duke of W? Bien sûr, he only displayed a partiality towards me

FWW: How good you were to our dear Byron, Mr. Murray - Mr. Davies promised me I could come and view his picture - would you mind - oh! there he is (weeps a bit) - Mr. Davies, please accompany me three feet yonder

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SBD offers sprightly arm - FWW requires the sopha and snuff

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CL: Humph! Zuleika pfft! Please hand me my shawl Mr. Davieson - it's there (points and slides MS behind back) - Murray, I'm sure you will relent and send me this new ‘Childe Harold’ before any one else has it - although I have little vanity about seeing things before others (searches amongst folds of fine silk for a concealment opportunity) - for I do retain some curiosity and lurking interest in the Childe’s works

SBD: Your shawl, Miss

CL: Miss!! I am passed the thirty - and you think me still a maid?!! Me??(MS falls to floor) Mr. Davieson, (to self: woe and darn it) you appear to have mislaid an MS (aristocratic nostrils flare) Please - all - you can detain me no longer - no - I insist - anon, gentlemen

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CL obliviously flounces out

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​G(to M): I suspect that female will haunt these premises years hence (both shake heads)

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​X

 

SCENE 3

 

A knock on the door​

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J: A ‘Lady Byron' to see you Mr. Murray​​

SBD: Oons Jimmy! - keep the lady awhile in the front parlour - confess your sins or some such - Lady Frances and I must attempt an escape (to M) - good day to you Murray - and Mr. Gifford - and thank you (winks and smiles at B's portrait) - come my dear Lady Frances (whips a minor poem from Murray's pile) I have a favourite tree, under which grows soft moss, in Green park - where I shall melodically read his Lordships latest lyrics at your dainty feet

FWW: ooh! - Good day t'ye gentlemen

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Thumping great footsteps are heard mounting the stairs

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A: Mr. Murray - Mr. Gifford - please, don't stand! - I have regained some of my strength (spies MS on Murray's green baize) - I leave London to-morrow, and should be obliged to you if you would let me have Dugald Stewart’s Dissertation prefixed to the ‘Encyclopædia’ to read on my journey (drapes shawl over table) - My father also wishes to have Franklin’s ‘Letters’ and Spence’s ‘Anecdotes’ (assumes a most demure aspect) - I am inclined to ask a question, which I hope you will not decline answering - if not contrary to your engagements - who is the author of that ‘Childe Harold’ lying so rashly on thy green baize? 

M(shuffles): Oh that? - oh, an item just received from Switzerland (fights his natural timidity) - no - yes! - yes it is by his Lordship, your Ladyship - and is, as yet, (grinds teeth) unread

A(pales in anger): It can't be! (reaches for hanky) - oh! - of course - he is still desperately in love with me - as any man would be - and needs to exorcise his shame - alternately, it's all part of his deep plan to seduce the public over to his side (grinds out a humorous noise) - his Satanic vanity!  You will of course not publish Murray - if the Regent heard that the loathsome domestic renegade is attempting to finagle his way back into polite society's good graces (threateningly) he would surely inform the Admiralty 

M: Think you, my lady, because you order a few rare and expensive tomes, there shall be no more Lord Byron and his poesy? aye, and hot in my hands too?

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A knock on the door

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M: Jimmy! what have you?

J: Mr. Spooney, the chemist

M: Ah - good! (moves toward door) I thank you Lady Byron for stopping by - I shall send your books to Piccadilly this...

A: Piccadilly! 

M: Yes? - no? I heard you were seen lurking around the door the other eve - I presumed you reside there yet?

A: Humpf! - his lordship's agents at work again! (mumbles) amateurs (demurs) - no, I am residing at the Dorchester before resuming my nationwide tour - appearing at prayer meetings and the like (picks up shawl) - many of the church-going, middle to working classes seem to feel they have earned a place in heaven simply by meeting me - the Lord bless them!

G(squints): Lady Byron - there appears to be a lumpen article caught up in your shawl

M: Byron's MS! 

A: Would you look at that! - these shawls do have a tendency to gather litter - else you put it there yourself  Mr. Murray - confess it was you and I shall attempt forgiveness

M: I shall send your books on without delay, Madam

A: I accept your apology - good day

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Puts MS in safe

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M: Now, Mr. Spooney - have you his lordship's items?

S: Aye (checks list) - corn plasters, tincture of myrrh, cundums, lavender water, Pearson's remedy - 10 litres - quarts of magnesia - volumizing shampoo

M: Excellent - we shall be spared such requests a good while hence (ekes out sovereign) - good day to you Mr. Spooney

S: Good day, sir

M: Jimmy!

J: Yes

M: Lock that front door

J: But it is not yet ten of the morning!
M: Indeed - and put a wreath on it - I am dead for the rest of the week

J: Aye, Mr. Murray 

​M(unlocks safe): At last, Gifford - I'll tackle the glorious Childe - you take these strange, exquisite metaphysical pieces

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The two friends settle in - meanwhile in Switzerland

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B: That layabout Murray! - I've written to him every day and but rarely do I receive a reply - he never sent my plasters - the cundum situation is precarious (eyes chambermaid) By the Holy! - I'm changing publishers! (sulks) For certes, he damnably prospers apace without me - and wraps pork pies in my MS for luncheon at Admiralty House

H: I suspect you are wrong my friend - for he finally stopped Master Cawthorne in his foolish attempts to republish the E. B. & S. R

B: Has he indeed? (B & H take an immense pinch of Snuff ) - he gave me this snuff-box you know (points) see our little pagod Buonaparte, surrounded by brilliants?

H: In sooth, Byron - you must make a gift by return - not only as a fitting thanks - but an expression of your current regard for the man

B(thinks): I have the very thing! (opens trunk) - a Quarter of a Hero (twirls a femur) - the Burgundian bones of soldier long slain at Morat - quite the gift for our Albermarlian Nero! (points finger bone) - Now! - how do you suppose my neglectful Murray shall like that?!

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H rolls eyes, B remains triumphantly aggrieved

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​X

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​END​​​

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