“All right, gather ‘round, gentlemen. Good
Master Fraser, good Master Raymond, do you join us for rehearsal, an you have
naught else better to do?”
These two members of Will Shakespeare’s company
were indeed otherwise engaged in the occupation that took up most of their
spare time – making out. As long as they did it within the confines of the
theatre and only in the company of their fellow thespians and not in the view
of paying customers, nobody really minded.
Fraser Benson and Raymond Stanley broke off
their embrace and ambled over to the centre of the wooden stage where all the
company sat in a rough circle ready to listen to Will give them their
instructions.
“I have truly great news, gentlemen. We’ve been
commissioned to perform for Her Majesty at her Twelfth Night celebration.”
There were first murmurs of approval, which
gradually built into full-blown cheering. This was a major achievement for Will
and his company of players.
“She commands of us a comedy, which I have
written withal, and it now falls on us to be ready in time. So, I have your
parts here. It is set in Italy . . .”
“Another one in Italy. ‘Zwounds, but I tire of
Italy, Italy, always Italy as the setting,” groused a dark-haired, actor with
the most prominent nose of the company.
“Vance, thou knowest full well the audiences
like Italy this year. Why dost thou complain about every meanest thing?”
“I? Complain? ‘Sblood!”
Fraser and Raymond had settled down, sitting
close together, of course. Raymond turned to Vance, saying, “Oh, sneck up, you
whoreson wretch. Let Will tell our parts.”
Vance let out a heavy put-upon sigh and
subsided.
“Thank you kindly, Raymond. Now, as I was
saying, it is set in Italy and we have this damsel, her ship is wracked in a
storm and the sweet maid set upon the shore. To get by she . . .”
“Don’t tell me, she dresses as a boy. A plague
on all these disguised heroines!” whined Vance. “Hast thou no other plot-line
in thy addled pate, Will?”
“For the love of God, peace, Vance!”
interjected Raymond.
“Thank you again, Raymond. Now Vance, you will
play the brother of this unhappy maid. In the plot, the brother and sister are
most alike in visage, there will be confusion of identity. Therein lies the
comedy. The brother’s name is Sebastian. The girl, Viola, she thinks you are
drowned. Now, one of you gentlemen must play Viola. I was thinking Fraser,
since he is the most comely when dressed in women’s weeds.”
Fraser was soft spoken and when he ever did
protest something it meant that it was very important to him. Sadly he said,
“Let me not play the maiden again, I prithee, Will. Let me play some man this
time.”
“You have the smoothest face, Fraser. And the
most well-fashioned leg.”
“Please, an thou lovest me . . .”
“Nay, ‘tis Raymond who loves thee, and whenever
and wherever he may.”
The company all laughed.
“Even so, let Raymond play the woman this
time,” Fraser suggested.
“I? Play the woman? A pox on that!” protested
Raymond.
“Let the whoreson wretch play my sister. It
would serve him right,” observed Vance.
“But, you said the brother and sister look
alike. I look nothing like Vance. Look you, he is dark and I am fair. And he’s
got a nose the size of a bull’s pizzle.”
“True,” Will allowed, “But you two are of a
height. And the audience will not care. We need but say that you two look
alike, and they’ll buy it. They always do. So, it is settled that Raymond will
be the lady, Viola. The story goes thus: Viola is shipwrecked on the coast of
Illyria and she dresses as a man . . .”
“Like we’ve never heard that before,” said
Vance.
“Peace, you filthy bung. Let me tell it!” Will
finally lost patience with the always-complaining Vance. “She dresses as a man
and gets a job serving as eunuch to a Duke, by name Orsino. Viola falls in love
with the Duke Orsino. So, you may play the Duke, Fraser, and Raymond may love
thee. Like there’s aught unusual in that.”
Fraser nodded eagerly. He seldom got the chance
to play a male, let alone the romantic lead.
“It still likes me not that Raymond and I
should be said to look the same. It defies all reason.”
“Vance, an thou dost not hold thy tongue, I’ll
skewer thee! B’yr Lady, peace!”
“Well, I’ve done,” Vance muttered.
“God’s body, I hope so. Now, to go on with the
story: Orsino thinks Viola is an eunuch. He sends her on his behalf to woo
another lady, and that lady will be played by Francisco.”
A small, dark young man looked up shyly.
“Gladly, Master Will.”
“Hey,” one of the company called out,
“Francisco actually looks like Vance. They should be sister and brother.” A
general rhubarb of commentary rose up in agreement.
Will sank to his knees on the wooden stage and
buried his head in his hands. “Will I never have a chance to tell you all your
parts? Mark me, all of you!”
Thus appealed to, the men settled down to pay
attention. Will regained his composure and stood back up.
“Orsino, that is Fraser, is in love with the Lady Olivia, that is Francisco, and sends Viola, that is Raymond, to woo her on his behalf. But Olivia falls in love with Viola, thinking she is a man. Later, the brother, Sebastian, and that is Vance, encounters Olivia and she thinks he is Viola. So, you see, everybody gets confused.”
“I’m certainly confused,” put in Vance, but
softly enough that all he got from Will was a dirty look.
“But the four are all wed in the end: Francisco
with Vance and Raymond with Fraser. This is the main plot. We have the subplot
with a fool, a Puritan and . . .”
Will went on to assign the rest of the parts.
The play was performed on Twelfth Night in front of Elizabeth the First and she
approved of it heartily. After the show, she sent a footman to summon Fraser
Benson, who had played a most dashing Orsino, to attend to her in her
bedchamber. Unfortunately for the Queen, Fraser’s interest lay elsewhere, and
thus her the validity of her title, The Virgin Queen was in no way in jeopardy
that night.
End.