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Cast

  Lord Bryon

  Joe Murray

  C.S.Matthews

  S.B.Davies

  J.C. Hobhouse

  Taffy & Susan – Newstead Nymphs

  The Black Friar

 

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SCENE 1

 

1809, a coach pulls up to Newstead Abbey - Charles Skinner Matthews, an outré though exceptionally gifted scholar, steps out and surveys the ancient mansion

 

CSM: Sink me Percy!! - it’s worse than I’d imagined - explains the decrepitation of his morals, though - heh heh - (spies the Holy Virgin in her niche) - oh! (frowns) oons! - apologies my good woman (bows)

 

Murray opens door

 

M: You are most welcome Sir - my Lord and his other gentlemen guests await in the Refractory

CSM: Refractory? - oh well, of course - where else would the Abbot of our Adventures greet one, what? (smiles at Murray who whisks his trunk and hat boxes into a sarcophagus)

 

CSM mounts the stairs gingerly - the door opens heavily and slowly

 

M: Mind you don’t turn left - a wolf resides there

CSM: Oh thanks

M: Mind you don’t turn right - a bear resides there

CSM: Which way is the Refectory? - do boa-constrictors reside there? Ha! (nervously)

M: No, sir - his Lordship has forbidden Mr. Davies from bringing said reptiles after one particularly irksome fellow nearly strangled poor Taffy (confidentially) - a favoured Welsh concubine of his Lordship

CSM: Perhaps you could furnish me some brandy before I proceed - if you would Fletcher - from that naggin on your hip

M: As you wish, sir (has a hip-flask handy)

 

CSM stares in wonderment at the catastrophic state of the primordial pile

 

M: There sir, that should settle your nerves - now, when you feel able for it, the Refractory is the very last door on your left, if memory serves (drains hip-flask) I would advise thee, Mr. Matthews, to ignore any momentary pale diffusions of light, moans, seemingly animated portraits, or random bones you may pass along the way (whispers) - do, however, be on your guard against mob-capped young ladies - they just cannot seem to stop making soup and sandwiches for the young gentlemen, tsk! (shakes head - departs)

 

CSM throws back his dram - proceeds with care - none of the above terrors have ensued - he picks up his stride - admires the monk’s stone coffins, when an ear-splitting BOO! is heard

 

CSM: ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! Mother of God!! - Save me!!!

 

Hobhouse leaps out of a stone coffin - wearing a monk's habit - roaring his head off

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H: Hullo Matthews!! How'd you like my spectral spectacular?! Had you going there! 

CSM: You despicable scoundrel - you damn near disconnected my hair!!

H: Our fearless Methodist Matthews? (laughs) - here is your costume - and (inspects scalp) mayhap, a tonsured peruke? (chortles)

CSM: Heh - yes, well, I do need relief via infantile pranks to lever me from my studies (is shaking) - who'd have thought I'd be so easy to spook?

H: The japes have just begun, my dear friend! Byron and the company are this way - oh, (somewhat grubbily) and sandwiches and soup

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CSM dons monastic garb and they stroll for another half a mile to reach the Refectory

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​SCENE 2

 

The friends, all dressed incorrectly as Dominicans, which doesn't escape M's notice, are shooting at targets at the end of the ancient Abbey’s gallery

 

All: All hail Matthews of the Prodigious Intellect!

B: The devil what kept you? (looks up) - why, Matthews you're completely blanched ! - did you see a ghost, perchance? (hysterics ensue) - come, you need some brandy - here - (fills skull goblet - CSM is astounded - again) Oh, start not Matthews! - nor deem my spirit fled! In this behold the only skull from which, unlike a living head, whatever flows is never dull

SBD: Not dull - but a dashed small measure

B: Better to hold the sparkling grape, than nurse the earthworm’s slimy brood (CSM sits) - and circle, in the goblet’s shape, the drink of gods than reptile’s food

H: Your wit this eve Byron, perchance is shining - but perhaps we shall leave off frightening last night’s supper out of Matthews

B: Quite right (claps hands) - now, to begin! Here is one of my favourite Mantons - aim your fire at the most highly crafted piece of stonework you can find, my friend (thinks) - although - for a poor scholar's eyesight? ah!, that gaudily painted Tudor fireplace I would better recommend

CSM: I am but ill-trained in weaponry, my dear Byron (looks in horror at the guns) Hobhouse has already succeeded in deranging my nerves and disengaging my bowels (heads for the door) - I’d much prefer the library - do you still have my annotated Satyricon? - never mind - I'm here to have fun! - fun (sighs and sits) - I should not carry the aspect of a careworn Don at a mere twenty-one

H(interrupts): Just so, our esteemed Matthews - however, we shall recess as we appear to be bereft of soup and sandwiches - and we have not yet seen Susan and Taffy in formal evening attire

B: We shall - mind you, Hobby - you are somewhat over-stepping over the feudal mark there

H(hiccups): Pfft, don't mind your 'feudal' - my father is loaded! - I shall repair to the cellar, Murray?! - Help me bring up the fine wines - unless what remains of your booze - like your Mantons - is not vastly corroded

B(laughs at H's disdain for the Natural Order of Things): Well, alrighty then - to the library, brethren!

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The merry monks abandon their pistols on a sarcophagus

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H(struggling): The vinous substances have been rescued, gentlemen!!

All: Huzzah!

B: You may pick a bottle of your choice Murray - and send for the Nymphs directly

M: Very well - with or without foodstuffs?

B: Hmmm (ponders) - without - for what nobler substitute than wine? We will quaff while we canst - and rhyme and revel with the dead

M(sighs): Very well, my Lord (leaves)

SBD: Are you certain this skull is human? It has the aspect of a goat or some other farm animal - or the skull of a maiden sacrificed at the altar in the good old times? A monk? - I wonder who exhumed him?

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B knocks back a large one

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CSM: Good lord, Scrope - they were Augustinians - founded, I recall...

SBD: Indeed - a fine set of fellows, I’m sure!

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Susan and Taffy enter - although resplendent in their evening livery, both bear the marks of a recent skirmish

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​Scene 3

 

B: What shall we feast upon gentlemen?

CSM: I would quite enjoy something soothing - perhaps mutton soup, sans croutons - and rice pudding

B: Taffy? - our gentle, and quite superiorly gifted, friend Matthews requires peace and comfort - what have you in that line?

Taffy(eyeing CSM): There's always Murray's cot by the fire

CSM: Not at all my dear girl, I will find comfort elsewhere (sighs) - a sarcophagus, perhaps? - nay, I should not wish to disturb the Black Friar

Susan: And why not Sir? Since through life’s little day our heads such sad effects produce?

Taffy: Were you asked? - His Lordship required my advices

B: Cool it my pliable strumpets - although we are quite enjoying some guesswork regarding your scratches, you must remember Taffy - Susan has a prior claim

Taffy(pouting): And a longer chain!

B: I'll buy you a frock which perchance will be worth a few bob in the future - for now! - to the scullery and bring Matthews his soup and pudding - the stouter fellows shall have lobster from the Upper Lake, not reptiles food! oh!, and whatever remains of my fabled cellar - I suspect there's some fine Canary wine buried in the outer quads

H: The drink of the gods!

SBD(to Susan): Fill me up - thou canst not injure me! (proffers skull cup)

Susan: Alas Sirs! your brains are gone where once your wit, perchance, hath shone as previously this eve

B: I believe the scullery was mentioned

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T and S race for the door - trip over Savage the bulldog and begin to tear at each other's gold chains - gifts from B

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CSM: I can not tolerate the naked violence of this place a moment more! (removes monk's attire)

SBD: Naked? - sorry I was lost in The Racing Post - naked what?

B: False alarm my dear Scrope - the help are - quite understandably - vying yet again for my attention - my great-uncle, you know, promoted his housekeeper to Mistress of the House, indeed for Lady Betty, 'twas quite the elevation

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T and S stop fighting

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B: And why not? Since through life’s little day, our heads such sad effects produce? Redeemed from worms and wasting clay, this chance is theirs to be of use

Taffy: I don't have worms my Lord!

Susan: Me neither, my Lord!

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Murray is suddenly pale and shivering

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B: Saints preserve us Murray - what ails thee?
M: My Lord - yon skull cup (pointing) - why is it spinning so frenziedly

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Said goblet begins to rise supernaturally and lands atop B's head

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B(drops wine): It most assuredly is the ghost of the Black Friar - a bogle, in fact!! Of course! - his soul cannot rest until his skull is restored!

SBD: Damned impertinent - said spectre wasted a good drop of Burgundy there, my lord

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CSM faints into a sarcophagus - Murray jumps into the ornamental fish pond

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B: Give me a sign, Black Friar! I know not where the mass of your corruption is buried! - although, in truth, I had a go at digging up the cloisters whilst in my minority

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The goblet flies - once again supernaturally - into the sarcophagus where Matthews lies - no sound is heard

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B: I wonder if Matthews has been rescued from earth’s embrace? Perchance, the good Friar has found peace atop that massively gifted brain

H: We may be damned, but we must look!

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The friends slowly open the stone coffin - they discover Matthews and the Black Friar's now-reunited corpse debating early church reform and monastic infrastructure 

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B: Come, we shall leave them - the man-miracle Matthews has met his fate, and, one hopes - perchance has found his soulmate

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The friends head to the scullery - in search of sandwiches, and of wenches

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