HART. Oh, come / on.
KYNASTON. What is Flavia’s reason? What is Flavia’s impetus for posing the question?
NELL. Does it really matter?
KYNASTON. It matters to Flavia!
DRYDEN. But it doesn’t affect the scene.
KYNASTON. Of course it does! Mr Dryden, if you could just write me a short monologue to / reveal –
KILLIGREW. Ed, it’s not really Flavia’s scene.
KYNASTON. I’m quite aware of that, thank you.
HART. And we open in a week.
KYNASTON. I’m not coming on for two lines. It’s mortifying.
NELL. One line.
KYNASTON. What?
NELL. One line. You put a pause in, but there isn’t one. So really you should do it on one breath. (Beat.) It’s one line.
Beat.
KYNASTON. You’ll have to find someone else.
DRYDEN. But my play!
KYNASTON. Oh, don’t you worry, Mr Dryden. Actresses are two a penny. Just ask the next cheap whore who offers you a citrus fruit! (Exits.)
KILLIGREW. Ed? Ed! (To HART.) You said you’d schooled her. (Taking NED in.) And that you’d learned it!
NED. It’s not her fault; it takes so much longer when you can’t read!
NELL. Ned!
HART. Ned!
KILLIGREW. She can’t read?!!
HART points at the exit. NED goes.
NELL. Sir, I’ll practise!
KILLIGREW. I don’t believe this. Kynaston! (Exits, following KILLIGREW.)
HART. Let me talk to him. (Exits.)
NELL. Sorry.
DRYDEN. It’s not your fault. It’s my writing – it’s desperate. I think I’ll scrap it and start again. Again.
NELL. But it’s good.
DRYDEN. It’s not. Is it?
NELL. I like the way you write.
DRYDEN. Do you? You know, sometimes I just can’t get the dratted thing from quill to parchment. I have an idea but it just goes pfff! It wouldn’t be quite so torturous if Johnny wasn’t so ‘inspired’ all the time.
NELL. Johnny?
DRYDEN. My cousin. Everyone’s always ‘Jonathan this, Jonathan that – isn’t Jonathan dazzling.’
NELL. He’s a playwright?
DRYDEN. He wants to be. Though his work’s quite unstageable. He’s got this idea about a shipwrecked man who gets marooned in a land full of tiny people. How do you put that on stage?
NELL. He should write it as a book instead.
DRYDEN. Good idea!
NELL. Why do you fret about what folk think anyway? You don’t get nervous, do you?
DRYDEN. No. (Beat.) Yes. Yes I do actually. I get this ringing in my ears, it’s damnable. I’m not like you.
NELL. I haven’t been on yet.
DRYDEN. But you’re not afraid. And you have a way, when we’re watching you.
ROSE. She’s always had that.
DRYDEN. I, on the other hand, have to wrench this out like a rotten tooth, a pussing carbuncle, yeurch.
He holds the scrumpled piece of paper at arm’s length.
NELL. What’s wrong with it?
DRYDEN. It’s predictable! Boy meets girl, girl resists, boy persuades her. Kiss. Marriage. Happy ending.
NANCY. Read it to us.
DRYDEN. Oh, I couldn’t.
ROSE. Go on.
DRYDEN. Alright. So – it is night. The air is chilly, stars pepper the sky and, in the park, the masked lady reveals herself as Florimel. (Playing Celadon, surprised.) ‘Florimel?!’ (In a lady’s voice, as Florimel.) ‘At your service. The same kind and coming Florimel you have described.’ (As Celadon.) ‘Florimel?! Ha! I knew at once that we were good for nothing but each other. Let us be married at once!’ (As Florimel.) ‘Married at once?’ (As Celadon.) ‘By Jove, yes. And do you consent?’ (As Florimel.) ‘Yes!’ Then they embrace and… (From NELL’s expression.) What?
NELL. She says yes? To that?!
DRYDEN. What’s wrong with it?
Pause. The girls erupt into laughter.
NELL. There’s no ‘boom!’
DRYDEN. Boom?
NELL. Spark. Gunpowder.
DRYDEN. What are you saying? It lacks fire?
NELL. Yep.
DRYDEN. Not even a flicker? A tiny glow? An ember?
NELL. Nope.
DRYDEN looks to NANCY and ROSE.
NANCY. Nope.
ROSE. Sorry.
DRYDEN. I knew it, it’s just kindling!
NELL. Don’t sulk.
DRYDEN. It’s just a romance, no one listens anyway –
NELL. So make ’em listen. Grab ’em by the scallies.
DRYDEN. Sorry?
NANCY. And stop apologising.
DRYDEN. Sorry.
NELL. Mr Dryden! Yet again, some gallant falls for a wilting, waifish woman without a bean of personality or a single funny line, but hey, it doesn’t matter, cos she’s pretty –
DRYDEN. Now wait a minute –
NELL. And what does this flimsy whimsy want from life? Adventure? Respect? No… all she wants is this flopsome fop cos once he wrote her a poem and compared her to a flower. Is that what you think women want?
DRYDEN. Well, I –
NELL. No, Mr Dryden! It’s not! We’re as knotty and tangly as you are, and yet how do you write us? ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo, lend me your dagger so I can kill myself – for though I’m young and healthy and have everything to live for – and I only met you a week ago – my life’s not worth living now you’ve gone.’ Really? It’s hogswill. Juliet is a noodle. Who wrote that twaddle anyway?
DRYDEN. William Shakespeare.
NELL. Well, he should learn to write proper plays. Or let his wife have a go. Please, Mr Dryden. You can write for a real woman now. No one has done that before. Write from here – (Indicating her guts.) and write me a character! With skin and heart and some sense in her head. Celadon says he thinks he might marry her. You think she’d agree – to that?!
DRYDEN. Wouldn’t she?
GIRLS. No!
DRYDEN. What would she say?
NANCY. You’re the writer!
DRYDEN. She bids him… she bids him – ‘Wait!’
NELL (in character). ‘Wait!’
DRYDEN. ‘These shallow protestations of love – they’re not sufficient!’
NELL (in character). ‘Not sufficient!’
DRYDEN. She challenges him! If he’s to win her, he must prove himself. She wants a lover who’d – who’d what?
NELL. Hang himself!
NANCY. Drown himself!
ROSE. Break his neck!
DRYDEN. Poison himself for very despair! He that will scruple that is an impudent fellow if he says he is in love.
NELL. Though he’s only a man – he cannot hang, drown, break his neck and poison himself at the same time.
DRYDEN. That’s funny – that’s good!
NELL. That is Celadon’s comeback. He must be a wit too, or she’d never look twice at him.
DRYDEN. Is that so? (Now frantically scribbling.) This is gold – it’s gold!
NELL. Then she sets him a challenge.
DRYDEN. Yes! (Pause.) What challenge?
NELL. Now that is where the master playwright comes into his own.
DRYDEN. I’ve got it.
NELL. Gunpowder?
DRYDEN. Guy Fawkes, my dear.
GIRLS. Boom!
DRYDEN. Boom!
HART (arriving). Boom?
DRYDEN. Mr Hart, you have found us a marvel.
HART. She’s a marvel with lines to learn.
NELL. I’ve learnt most of them.
HART. That was only Act One, Nell. Of five. (Holding up four giant roles.) We’ve got a week.
NELL looks at HART in horror. One week?! Yikes.
Song – ‘One Week to Go’
During which the COMPANY prepares for the play: a montage of rehearsals, training, dance lessons, getting into costume, etc.
ALL (singing). Hark the bonny bell,
Hear t
he merry knell,
Know that all is well,
One week to go!
Don the ruffs, the periwigs,
Drain the pottles, suck the figs,
Round the circle, merry jigs,
Six days to go!
Skip the triplet, dance the dandle,
Don the doublet, light the candle,
Brace the basket by the handle,
Five days to go!
Hark the bonny bell,
Hear the merry knell,
Know that all is well,
Four days to go!
Cotton up my bodkin,
Button up my jerkin,
Plumping up my merkin,
Three days to go!
Pas de deux and minuet,
Rouge a cheek, and trill duet,
Stuff a codpiece for a bet,
Three days to go!
Hark the bonny bell,
Hear the merry knell
Know that all is well
Two days to go!
Pas de deux and minuet,
Rouge a cheek and trill duet,
Stuff a codpiece for a bet,
One day to go!
Now we don disguises,
Practise our devises,
As the curtain rises,
One hour to go!
Scourge the pockmarks from the pate,
Cover up the poxéd state
’Tis the time for fun not fate,
One hour to go!
Time hot-footed now is sprung,
Hours, moments have we none,
For ’tis time we were begun.
One minute!
Into…
Scene Six
First-night Nerves
In the dressing room, NELL is suffering from a fit of nerves when ROSE bursts in.
ROSE. What are you doing back here?
NELL. I can’t feel my legs.
ROSE. It’s packed out front.
NELL. That’s all I need to hear.
ROSE. Come / on.
NELL. I can’t do it.
ROSE. You know it. You’ve practised.
NELL. My head’s full of dust –
HART (off). Nell?!
NELL. I’m going home.
ROSE. Nell! They’ve never seen a woman up there before. You going to let some other wench take that from you? Hey! What would your dad say? If he could see you now?
HART and NANCY burst in.
NANCY. Found her!
HART. Are you all right?
NELL. I think I’m going to faint.
NANCY. Have a nose of this.
NANCY sticks some smelling salts under NELL’s nose and it sends her reeling.
NELL. Jesus Mary! Give us some more.
KYNASTON, DRYDEN and KILLIGREW enter.
KILLIGREW. Ready?
NELL. No.
ROSE. Yes, she’s ready.
KILLIGREW. Everyone feels a little querulous their first time.
KYNASTON. I didn’t.
NELL. Charles, you’re spinning…
HART. Nell. Look at me. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. And just think through the words of the song.
NELL. Song? What song?!
Music starts up.
DRYDEN. That song!
NED (arriving at speed). You’re on, you’re on!
NELL. I’m going to be sick.
KYNASTON. Aim it at the groundlings – they only paid a fiver.
A trumpet fanfare – the song begins with the CHORUS singing.
Song – ‘Celadon and Florimel’
CHORUS (singing).
Come, come, come
Let us tell, tell, tell,
Let us tell, tell, tell of Florimel
And Celadon her true love.
And Celadon her true love.
Will lovers sigh and passion fly?
Or must he find a new love?
Two souls, entwined, our lovers are
Whose poles align under fortune’s star
And here comes one –
(As HART enters.) ’Tis Celadon!
Whom all the maidens gaze upon.
He hath many mistress conquered.
He hath the ladies sighing.
HART (singing).
There’s but one maid I can’t persuade!
CHORUS (singing, aside).
And not for want of trying.
Celadon loves Florimel.
HART (singing).
There’s only one maid for me.
The fairest Florimel I love,
Oh how she will adore me!
CHORUS (singing).
Her damask cheeks, her ringlets sleek.
HART (singing).
Her bounteous peaks.
CHORUS (singing).
She’s come!
NELL enters as Florimel. On seeing the audience, she seizes up completely.
HART (singing).
Be silent, ye, for hark she speaks…
NELL is frozen and doesn’t sing. The musicians stop. Silence. HART cues her in.
(Whispered.) ‘Oh, how my heart doth cower.’
NELL. What?
HART cues the musicians to play again. NELL makes an attempt to sing the next verse, but she’s too nervous.
(Singing fitfully.)
Oh… how my heart doth cower,
I was to see my lover here.
Beneath this leafy bower…
The song grinds to a halt. Silence. NELL starts to leave the stage, then stops with her back to us. A beat. She rallies and begins to sing. It’s a song from her childhood, a song she knows well.
I can dance and I can sing,
And I am good at either.
And I can do the t’other thing
When we get together.
Turning to the audience.
I have lately lost my dear,
If he do not meet me here,
Well, in faith I’ll get another!
NELL throws caution to the wind and dances. She is brilliant. The MUSICIANS, then the COMPANY, join in. The song builds…
Said my love he’d meet me here,
But if he do not appear
Then in faith, t’won’t make me sadder!
I can dance and I can sing
And I am good at either
And I can do the other thing
When we get together.
I can nimbly come above
And I can tumble under
And I will dance in wet and wind
And I will sing at thunder.
If he do not make me hay,
I’ll not give myself away
And I won’t be for romancing!
If he do not love me well,
I’ll leave him alone to dwell,
And I will go on dancing!
I can dance and I can sing
And I am good at either
And I can do t’other thing
When we get together.
It’s a triumph. A star is born.
Scene Seven
Hart’s Strumpet
Cut to HART and NELL outside the theatre after the performance – she’s just found him.
NELL. Charlie? They’ve opened a barrel inside. What are you doing? Oh Lord – you didn’t like it.
HART. Nell.
NELL. I know I missed a cue – and buggered the jig – and cut off Mr Kynaston – but it’s a lot to remember –
HART. Nell.
NELL. And I’ll get it right tomorrow – I promise – I just – (Pause.) What?
HART. You really don’t know, do you?
NELL. Know what?
HART. Good God.
NELL. What?
HART. It was extraordinary.
NELL. What was?
HART. Didn’t you hear them, Nell? They loved you.
NELL. They loved us.
HART. They’ve never seen anything like it. You were luminous. And you were real. A real woman. I’m not sure we’ll ever go back. It changes everything.
Beat.
NE
LL. Come with me.
HART. Where are we going?
NELL. Up.
HART. Up where?
NELL. On the roof!
HART (alarmed). Why?! Why would we do that?
NELL. I’ve something to show you.
HART. What?
NELL. London.
HART. Can’t we see it from here? On the nice sturdy, solid ground?
NELL. Don’t be feeble.
HART. Heights make me giddy.
NELL. You’re not a coward.
HART. I might be.
NELL. You’re not. I’ve seen you address a thousand men.
HART. Yes but –
NELL. And tonight.
HART. Tonight what?
NELL. Tonight you risked your name on a ‘strumpet’.
Pause.
HART. So I did.
They might kiss. She breaks away and heads up the ladder. HART doesn’t move.
NELL (singing, quietly). ‘I can sing and I can dance…’ Come on… I’m still wearing my Florimel stockings.
HART. You’re not.
She shows him a little peep then continues up the ladder.
Every time.
He follows her up.
Scene Eight
The Mistresses at War
QUEEN CATHERINE of Braganza, CHARLES’s barren wife, arrives on stage in a fury. She is smashing everything in her sight. ARLINGTON and an array of SERVANTS are struggling to stop her. She talks in very fast, impassioned Portuguese.
QUEEN. Não posso acreditar nisso! Como ousa? Comedor de pudim, suino pálido! [I cannot believe this. How dare he! The eater of pudding, the pale-faced swine!]
ARLINGTON. A Senhora?
QUEEN. Sai do meu caminho, pinto flácido. Tivesse eu nunca pisado no vosso país congelado estúpido. Vocês são todos bastardos! [Get out of my way, you flaccid dick. I wish I’d never set foot in your stupid, frozen country. You’re all bastards!]
She picks up a bust of CHARLES.
ARLINGTON. My lady, please – it’s a Bernini – it’s terribly –
She hurls the bust at the wall. It smashes.
Expensive.
CHARLES arrives, obviously alerted to the crisis.
CHARLES. What in heaven’s name? (Seeing the bust.) Oh. My head.
ARLINGTON. Sir.
CHARLES. It was a Bernini; terribly expensive.
Nell Gwynn Page 4
