Shakespeare Must Die Act 5

Act 5 scene 1

1619. Whitehall. The gardens. Bacon and Buckingham are alone.

Buck – Francis, it's the only way.

Bacon – Perchance the only way for you to cling to your high place.

Buck – But my place is your place.

Bacon – Perchance you forget who gained you your place.

Buck – Perchance you forget yours.

Bacon – I am to be impeached for bribery?

Buck – Yes, but the accusers will be those who bribed you …

Bacon – Happy to oil the wheels but less so when the wheel simply turns as it must.

Buck – All will know 'tis a false accusation.

Bacon – But my reputation.

Buck – Intact and as high as ever. Though perhaps not here.

Bacon – A prophet is never without honour, except in his own house.

Buck – A prophet, Francis?

Bacon – I am a high priest of the sense – my task here cannot be completed without office.

Buck – Your task here is to do as I task you.

Bacon – As you task me, sire?

Buck – And with no office, you will be free to perform it.

Bacon – 'It', sire?

Buck – The king and I are agreed. We must wrap up Shakespeare's works – the king wishes for the bard's work to redound to the glory of the reign of so wise and virtuous a king.

Bacon – The bard?

Buck – The Works of Shakespeare will be the greatest book that ever there was or will be. It will be complete, in Folio. It will reflect the wishes of the king in respect of references to the divine. It will be somewhat less, earthy. It will secure his place amongst the greats.

Bacon – But it is time that shall test the mettle of these works. Future ages will judge.

Buck – Future ages will see a great body of work, produced by one man …

Bacon – Who in his time, played many parts …

Buck – Actor

Bacon – Soldier

Buck – Manager

Bacon – Cleric

Buck – Impresario

Bacon – Attourney General, Natural Philosopher, Duchess, Queen …

Buck – Playwright.

Bacon – We have all the drafts and notes, the printed Quartos?

Buck – We have. They shall be brought to you in The Tower.

Bacon – The Tower? aside I am thankful I am no Hastings, James no Gloucester, though Villiers here scares me.

Buck – The Tower. Privacy guaranteed.

Bacon – Of course. aside The Tower? My reputation will not survive this.

Buck – You are clear with regards your duty?

Bacon nods gravely. Exit Buckingham.

Bacon – And so at the last I am to be turned from my purpose like a drayhorse. It is fit, perhaps, that my great contribution to James's glory, leastways in his eyes, is to be a book to which my name will never be attached. I contend not for the palm of wit nor for the sceptre of authority. But I do ask why should the name Shakespeare have life, and that of Ben, Jack, Francis, Mary enjoy not a breath of the wind of fame. For tyme was, I had Honour without leasure; and might I at least hope for leasure now that I am to be without Honour. I find myself wondering if that the heavens do not send those harpies to the muses down to tame these vile offences, and quickly, It will come: humanity must perforce prey on itself, like monsters of the deep.

                        Thou must be patient, we came crying hither:

the first time that we smell the air

We wawl and cry … we cry that we are come

                        To this great stage of fools

And now the stage is set, but empty yet.

His fame has but one book in which to live,

and I am damn'd perpetu'lly who set

the age of my posterity to give,

robb'd by a man who mighty might have been,

who wrote a man who never was nor seen.

It seems I am hoist on my own petard.

And cheating death installs him as the Bard.

In Shakespeare, I write my oblivion.

Exit.

 

Act 5 scene 2

1621. Upstairs at the inn. Enter Bacon, with Heminge and Condell.

Bacon - What a piece of work is a man

Heminge - He certainly was a piece of work

Condell - A pretty piece of work.

Heminge - And how.

Condell - As is our work.

Heminge - Indeed it is, Mr Condell.

Condell - And but we three, the triple pillars of the world, can attest to knowing him, eh, Mr Heminge.

Heminge - And Ben, Mr Condell.

Condell - And Ben, Mr Heminge.

Heminge - And John, Mr Condell.

Condell - And John, Mr Heminge.

Bacon - And so shall it remain.

Heminge - If we so choose, eh, Mr Condell.

Condell - If we so choose, indeed, Mr Heminge.

Heminge - Mr Bacon.

Bacon slams the newly collected papers onto the table with a thump.

Bacon - Remember your places, gentlemen, and I task you to remember who I am.

Heminge - We know full well who you were, do we not, Mr Condell.

Condell - We do indeed, Mr Heminge, we do indeed.

Heminge - And what did the good king comment on your last masterpiece, Mr Bacon?

Bacon - Mr Hemi …

Condell - That it was like the peace of God, Mr Heminge?

Heminge - That passeth all understanding, Mr Condell.

Bacon - Shouting GOOD SIRS.

They fall silent.

Bacon - I am Viscount St Albans, and you will address me as such.

Heminge - But banished from the verge

Condell - No longer with the ear of the king

Bacon - With indignation “But banished from the verge … No longer with the ear of the king” MILORD.

Heminge&condell look at him with suspicion and not a little pity.

Bacon - Defeated Authority melts from me.

Heminge&condell stand and make to leave. A voice echoes from the gloom.

Voice - Sit.

The voice commands authority. They sit.

Voice - You will listen and you will obey St Albans, for his voice is my voice. Whatsoever he commands he does so in my name. Not even his Majesty can save you from my wrath if you displease me, and not even his Majesty can gainsay my rewards if you carry out your task to the letter.

The two men nod their understanding, they are visibly shaken.

Voice - Pray continue, St Albans.

Bacon - Milord.

He shuffles some papers.

Bacon - You both knew Will for many years …

Heminge - Yes, though it is nigh on thirty years since I last saw him. Poor Will, he didn't end well.

Condell - All was not well with Will.

Heminge - And yet he wrote with such mastery, Mr Condell.

Condell - Such knowledge as could challenge the greatest minds in this land, Mr Heminge.

Heminge - It was almost as if he had the ear of twenty men of note, Mr Condell.

Bacon - Come gentlemen, you are yet amongst friends - friends whom you are advised not to make your enemies. Friends who have seen clear to allow you several concessions of a most lucrative nature. We now come to you to collect payment, to make good our investment and … to close your accounts …

Heminge - This sounds to me as if we are to be dispensed with … we are to undertake a journey, correct? To deliver a letter …

Condell - We have played these parts, Mr Heminge.

Heminge - And now we play them for the final time, it appears, Mr Condell.

Bacon - Gentlemen, gentlemen. Yes, you play your parts for the final time, but you are players. Unlike Will, your deaths are not your own, but those of whom you play. You are to write of Will.

Heminge - Of Will?

Bacon - Of Will. You are to celebrate his genius. To defame all the printed plays extant. To claim your authority as close, personal friends, as possessors of his remaines, as plyers of his trade.

Heminge - A dreadful trade, Mr Condell.

Condell - Dreadful, Mr Heminge.

Heminge - We must not be envied, as friends, Mr Condell.

Condell - Nor our office of care, Mr Heminge.

Bacon - You will explain how you collected and published his plays in toto, and in doing so right the wrongs done to his works as they were maimed and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of injurious impostors

Heminge - We will present them perfect of their limbs, Milord.

Bacon - These are the papers.

They look through the reams.

Condell - Scarce a blot, Milord.

Bacon - Speak with Jaggard, he is expecting you.

Heminge - Blind old Jaggard, the printer, Milord?

Bacon - The very man.

Condell - Love looks not with the eyes.

Bacon - You get my intent. Now do our bidding.

Heminge & Condell - Milord.

Exit Bacon, Buckingham.

Heminge - It had bene a thing worthie to have bene wished that the author himselfe had lived to have overseen his owne writings, Mr Condell.

Condell - E'en as they were written, Mr Heminge, E'en as they were written.

Exeunt

 

Act 5 sc 3

 

1625. King James is recently deceased. Lady Mary Wroth, the Duke of Buckingham and King Charles, are in Charles's closet

Mary Wroth – Your Majesty, must I entreat you further?

Charles – No, no, it is all too much. Steenie, surely you knew of this plot against my poor father?

Buckingham – Charles, dearest, it was no plot, no harm was intended to his late Majesty, no harm was done …

Charles – But tell me it will stop now, Steenie, tell me it will stop? There must be no making fun of this king!

Buckingham – Whatever there was, which was nothing contrary to law or god's will, will be obscured forever from this day … Majesty. Milady and I will see to it with our own hands.

Charles – I must take physic. My nerves are quite fragile today … Exit

Mary Wroth – Would that his sister wore the crown in his stead.

Buckingham – Though I confess I enjoy not the idea of being in thrall to a mere woman, Elizabeth is twice the man …

Mary Wroth – We have the papers?

Buckingham – They have already been transferred. He points at the chest on which the king was lately sat

Mary Wroth – So help me the man's an idiot.

Buckingham – But he's god's anointed idiot. Opens the chest. Picks out a sheaf of papers.

Mary Wroth – Anything of interest?

Buckingham – Something here about some island of Atlantis … ring any bells? Looks like Bacon's hand …

Mary Wroth – And mine. A piece we put together one week when confined indoors as the plague raged about us – the same week we wrote The Tempest with my late Aunt … a pretty conceit. Picks up the bundle. Ah yes, part two. We never did finish it. But here there are scenes and discussions of Ariel, of sourcery …

Buckingham – To the fire?

Mary Wroth – To the fire, all of it.

Buckingham summons servants, they drag the chest out of the closet, followed closely by Buckingham. Lady Wroth remains, alone.

Mary Wroth – And so, Kit, Will, Mary, Francis, Ben, John, Elizabeth, James … I'll burn thy books, and I'll burn my books, and there's an end to it.

Exit.