Shakespeare

Characters

Henry

Thomas

Richard

Jane

Lucy

(A restaurant.  The 1600’s.)

Lucy:  …And then we banished the five-headed ogre to the future.

Thomas:  Into which year?

Jane:  Oh, we picked a group of random numbers.  Two Zero One Seven.

Richard:  But won’t that just—

Lucy:  Calm yourself, Richard.  I’m sure in the future they have better ways of dealing with the supernatural than we do here and now.

Henry:  These witches of ours surely are clever, aren’t they boys?

Jane:  Good thing for us witches, or that fiend would have eaten half the town.  And nobody would be talking about your opening night, Henry.

Richard:  Truly a marvelous performance tonight, Henry.

Thomas:  Here, here!

Lucy:  Better than the Old Globe some might say.

Jane:  Well let’s not go that far, Lucy.  It was leagues from perfection, surely.

Henry:  Jane is right.  We are but amateurs, after all.  But we play our parts with passion, nevertheless.

Richard:  Regarding the theater, I must say—You know who’s killing it these days?

All, but Richard:  Who?

Richard:  William Shakespeare.

Henry/Thomas/Lucy/Jane:  I knew that’s who you were going to say./He’s incredible./I’m obsessed with him./He’s so attractive, I wish he would just marry me, but I’m past my child-rearing years, so it seems unlikely.

                (A beat.)

Jane:  Sorry, weren’t we all just talking at once?

Richard:  Did you all see Romeo and Juliet?

Lucy:  I didn’t see that one, but I heard it was good.

Henry:  I saw it.  I couldn’t believe he had the courage to kill them both off like that.

Lucy:  Henry, you miserable goatsack, did I not just say I hadn’t seen it?

Henry:  Well, it ran for weeks, Lucy.  You can’t say you’re obsessed with Shakespeare, and then miss something like Romeo and Juliet.

Lucy:  I—

Henry:  And then get mad when a true admirer, such as myself, wishes to discuss his work.

Jane:  But there’s so much you can discuss, Henry.  Hamlet for example.

Thomas:  I saw it three times.  My word, I don’t think I shall ever get sick of seeing Hamlet.  As far as I’m concerned, every idiot who thinks he can act should play Hamlet at least once from now until the end of time.

Lucy:  Careful Thomas, it’s the witching season, and anything said around Jane and myself could wind up becoming true.

Henry:  Is that so?

Jane:  It’s so.  Therefore, watch your language, boys.

Richard:  I should like to Shakespeare’s plays done in all sorts of ways.  Not just the way they were intended to be performed, but with wild concepts and in ludicrous new versions.

Lucy:  Richard, why would you ever hope for such a thing?

Richard:  I just love seeing the things I enjoy taken apart.  I suppose that’s because I’m the son of a clockmaker—or because I secretly enjoy murdering people.

Henry:  Did anybody see Othello?

Richard/Jane/Lucy/Thomas:  I saw that one three times too./I dream of playing Othello, but then again, I am a woman, but moreso than that, I’m a white woman and even though at the moment that doesn’t present a problem, I suspect that sometime in the future, it will./Ob-sessed./Oh yes, I very much enjoyed it.

                (A beat.)

Jane:  Oh dear, I must get the hang of this simultaneous speaking device.

Thomas:  I hear he’s working on a play about Antony and Cleopatra.

Lucy:  Are you jesting?

Henry:  I would die.

Thomas:  It’s true.

Richard:  Oh, how perfect.

Henry:  I—would—die.

Jane:  Pity you’ll never get tickets.

Thomas:  Oh, I’m sure you will if you’re patient.  Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra?  It’ll run for years.

Jane:  I prefer seeing the original cast perform it.  Once the replacements get ahold of one of his plays, it’s never the same.  I missed seeing the original Ophelia by two days, and I’ll never forgive myself.

Richard:  What happened to the original Ophelia?

Jane:  He died of consumption.

All, but Jane:  Ahhh.

Henry:  I remember that.

Thomas:  I saw the original.

Lucy:  Did you, Thomas?

Thomas:  I did, and as far as I’m concerned, if you missed seeing him, you needn’t bother seeing Ophelia done by anybody else, because it’ll never compare.

Henry:  You’re a real donkey’s elbow, do you know that, Thomas?

Thomas:  Don’t be jealous just because I saw the best Ophelia and now he’s dead.  It’s not my fault that I care so much about the arts.

Jane:  Is it true they plan on reviving Much Ado?

                (Groans from ALL.)

Lucy:  Did they not just do a production of it two months ago?

Henry:  And was it not five hours long?

Richard:  I do enjoy Master Shakespeare, but can he not find someone to shorten his plays a bit?

Lucy:  I agree.  By the end of Julius Caesar, even I was ready to stab someone.

Thomas:  Do you all go to the theater just to complain about long it is?

All, but Thomas:  Yes.

Richard:  That’s part of the experience, Thomas.

Jane:  We’re just being silly, darling Thomas.  Were we not just praising Master Will for his talents?

Henry:  He truly is having a moment.

Lucy:  He’s got a very strong brand.

Thomas:  A what?

Lucy:  He was branded by that theater-owner after a particularly nasty bar fight.  It looks as though he heated up a German stein and then pressed it against Will’s side.

Richard:  How would you know of that, Lucy?

Lucy:  Ladies talk, Richard.  I know more than one who’s been enjoying the company of Master Will recently.

Henry:  A bunch of star-snoggers, no doubt.

Lucy:  Call them what you like, but I’m envious.  I’ve never spent time around a true genius.

Richard:  Surely, he’s not a genius, Lucy.  He’s a writer.

Jane:  Some might say a genius writer.

Richard:  An oxymoron if ever there was one.

Thomas:  Even I have to agree.  I do treasure his work, but he’s not an inventor or a great thinker.  He’s simply an artist who puts pen to paper and creates a tapestry of words that will surely linger forever in our collective unconscious.  Anyone can do it.

Henry:  I’m going to side with the women on this one, gents.

Richard:  Do you really consider him a genius?

Lucy:  I do.

Jane:  I do as well.

Henry:  He’s killing it.

Richard:  Next thing you know, you’ll be saying he should run the country.

Jane:  I don’t see why not.

Thomas:  A celebrity in charge of government?  What a preposterous idea.  Only a band of nitwits would find such an idea appealing.

Richard:  Thomas is right.  Leave the art to the artists and do not bestow upon them the heavy name of ‘genius’ for it shall surely crush them in time.

Thomas:  I concur.  After all, Shakespeare is not reinventing the wheel.  All his stories are based on other stories or historical record.  He’s not coming up with anything new.  I simply enjoy his take on things.

Lucy:  Lord above, what I wouldn’t give for an original story.

Jane:  I don’t mind hearing an old tale retold.  It’s like hearing an old song you love to sing.  It eases the mind.

Richard:  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to go a bit further with the reimagining, would it?  Perhaps the next time they do Romeo and Juliet, the lovers survive?  That way Lucy can still be surprised.

Lucy:  Now what am I supposed to see Friday evening?

Jane:  They’re doing a series of readings at that theater by the water.

Lucy:  Readings?  I can barely stay awake at a play.  You expect me to pry my eyes open for two hours while people read to me?  Really, Jane.  Don’t be daft.

Thomas:  And don’t meddle with excellence, Richard.  Shakespeare’s plays are fine as they are.  Except for The Taming of the Shrew.  That’s utter garbage.

Henry:  Pure trash.

Jane:  Heinous nonsense.

Richard:  Drivel.

Thomas:  That’s one I wouldn’t mind sending to the future.

Jane:  Thomas, do you really think people in the future will still be doing an awful play like Taming of the Shrew?

Lucy:  Of course not.  They’ll be too busy fighting monsters.

Henry:  Perhaps then they won’t have any time to see theater.

Thomas:  Oh, I hope not.  Think of all the wonderful things they’d be missing.

                (Murmurs of agreement.  End of play.)