England, My England (1995) - full transcript
In 1960s, a British playwright attempts to reconstruct the life of real life 17th century English composer Henry Purcell even though little is known about him. Purcell's life is reenacted and his music performed.
At the end of Cromwell's time,
in and around the year of our Lord, 1660...
two things miraculous came about
which, as l shall relate...
gave us great hope for the future
ofthis island, this England
The first, the Restoration of Charles Stuart
to his throne of England...
after many long years of exile in Holland -
miraculous for his father, King Charles,
was executed by Cromwell...
only 11 years earlier
And the second, the birth of Henry Purcell,
organist, composer...
his father and his uncle both ofthe Chapel
Royal in the great Abbey at Westminster
From heaven he came
Their lives were drawn together
as if by divine hand
And together they changed
our history for ever
Kind Heaven, make us Englishman again
Any who may show good reason...
why Charles Stuart shall not
be King of England...
let him come forth and speak
Dread Sovereign, I offer no flattering
titles, but speak words of truth
You are the desire ofthree kingdoms...
the strength and stay
of the tribes of the people
Really? Why then did it
take you so long to ask me back'?
Oddsfish, Mr Newton, what's this'?
A wrestling match'?
Mr Newton, why are you upon the floor'?
Well, we're sure never to see
his like again... in this world
'Tis said, we have a pretty, witty King,
whose word no man relies on
He never says a foolish thing,
and never does a wise one
To which His Majesty replied:
"That is very true,
for my words are my own...
my actions are those of my Ministers"
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Well, it's a creaky old play
I rather liked it. Howwould you know?
You've never seen it
No, but I've heard it, forweeks
I'm never dry there!
Oh, don't look so sad, sweetheart.
Any of us could have done it
Well, sorry, it ruined the whole scene
It doesn't matter, it didn't ruin anything
Go on, get dressed if you're coming
- I don't think I feel like eating
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Oh, how's the mighty work'?
Stopped, ceased, dead
So, we're writing a play, are we'?
Well it can't be as bad as this one
May I remind you ladies and gentlemen,
the matinee starts tomorrow at five o'clock...
with orwithout an audience
And would the owner ofthe blue
Ford Cortina, BKH 1T...
not park outside the stage door
as this space is reserved...
for the manager ofthe Sloane Square
Underground station
Didn't take you long
- No, never does
Bill was in
- Shit!
Nelly, Nelly, where are you'?
Oh, Bill, he's in the shower,
he didn't know you were in
I didn't know you were in.
Did you know you were going to be'?
Did you notice me dry'? Sorry
Don't apologise to me Nelly Gwyn,
apologise to Charles
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When are we coming off'?
I have never seen anything as boring
as tonight. What's the matterwith you'?
Everybody knows it's coming off, Bill
Well I don't know it's coming off
and I'm the fucking producer!
And even if it is coming off,
who's to blame?
We're supposed to be doing a play
of our times here, the golden age
But does it look like it'?
Does it buggery!
It looks like some creaky old piece
by George Bernard Shaw
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Ylllili, I'll!!!
I mean we can do anything
as long as it's not boring!
Hello Bill, didn't know you were in
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They opened up the theatres again
Science, poetry, Dryden, Milton,
actors and actresses...
Wren, St Paul's, music, Purcell
I mean Purcell...
Ah, Squire Dryden...
All eyes you draw
and with the eyes the heart...
of your own pomp the greatest part
Loud shouts the nation's
happiness proclaim...
and Heaven this day
is feasted with your name
His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest...
his name a great example stands to show...
how strangely high endeavours
may be blessed...
where piety and valourjointly go
I hear tell they have dug up
Master Cromwell and his mother...
both looking as cheerful as any could
in that condition
The boy Purcell was took into
the Chapel Royal School in Westminster...
cleaning and repairing the organ
And sometimes, with his friend Pelham...
being less than helpful to his uncle Thomas,
the King's composer
Butch, the sights and sounds
and smells young Harry must have seen...
while learning his music
What'?
- Sir'?
Why?
- Sir'?
This'?
It's a piece
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But what is it'? ls it... What is it'?
Blow, boy!
Well, it has a catch
It is not a catch!
No, it is not a catch
Do give it to the King.
He has such a plump bass
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...t'will surely catch with him,
and I shall say it which it is...
which is why, in face of brought over...
I say brought over Frenchmen...
Which you do Master Locke!
Smelling as thou dost of popish
superstition, thou brat of Rome
Not one bit of it anywise
other than what it is
Which it is English... English!
I want none of your Vingt Quatres here!
L, Captain Henry Cooke, say it as Master
ofthe Children ofthe Royal Chapel...
you, Harry Purcell, are destined...
do you but stay obedient and compliant
and do betterwith yourviol...
and your fingering
I hate the viol!
Its use is to strengthen a part,
to support the voices
A chest of viols is essential in church
when the people cannot sing in tune
I would always have my people
sing in tune... and rest the voices...
and then use my violins
Fiddles! Too brisk!
What can a fiddle say alongside
a generous heroic viol...
except it should not come among them'?
Fingering... Fingering, Harry!
Fret and finger, orwe shall banish
cornets with voices now we have 'em...
to the Glory of God and the King and to...
I shall say it... to Prosperity!
This is a music factory
But make people feel, Master Purcell
Give them lessons in feeling.
Let 'em think afterwards
Now in some countries this might
be thought a dangerous approach...
But not in England, not today, dear heart
What?
Little danger of people
feeling too much
Not in England, not today...
encircled as we are with
a Cromwellian army of prigs...
knighthood-seekers
and grubby timeservers...
fat delayers of the law
Blackheads...
who merely shrug their shoulders...
while their money meters tick merrily away...
whose wealth is a licence for calumny...
whose cupidity passes for concern
To fly from love's sickness
is both foolish and vain
For I am myself
my own fever and pain
What are you talking about'?
I gave it all to her,
Mother bloody Hubbard...
when I left her, you know
So many children,
she didn't know what to do
Inn-quantum:
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I'm not in the mood, not anymore.
You brought up money!
Well, if you don't get on
and write the bloody play...
this poor Nelly will definitely starve
If only it were as easy as that
Do you know, last night I had the same
dream I've been having all these years
I'm about to make my entrance on a stage
Behind the flats, the other actors
are performing a play I know nothing about
A play about the short life
and tragic death of Henry Purcell...
Composer in Ordinary to the violins
of King Charles ll
I play the King
- Of course
My entrance is important, that I know
I'm peering through cracks in the scenery,
trying to find out what is going on
Eventually I decide I must
have missed my entrance...
so I grab a door handle and push
Everything rattles... and suddenly
I'm in a world were I can't see anything
Even though I knowthe spotlight is on me
I don't know my moves or my first line...
but I make enormous efforts to speak,
to say... something
I open my mouth and drive all the strength
I can find into my diaphragm...
but I make no sound
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I can feel the light... but I cannot see
Dreams won't pay the bloody rent!
Sod you!
Sod you!
How much'?
Eleven pounds, two shillings
and tenpence
The total in the Exchequer, your Majesty
And the national debt...
in excess ofthree million, your Majesty
I cannot pay them
Why they do it, I cannot think...
why they play on...
sing on... but they do
I cannot pay my sailors,
I cannot pay my guard...
but they are rogues, they pay themselves
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Bankers were a tribe grew up
in Cromwell's time
Never were heard of before
They are come to stay, I fear
Since when did you smoke a pipe, dear'?
Harold Wilson, is it'?
I've always smoked a pipe.
There's a kind of...
spirituality about a pipe,
rarely found in love...
but occasionally in friendship
You won't find anything on Purcell,
I've searched everywhere
I found that for you in the London Library
I mean, nothing - that's what makes him
an ideal subject for a play
Nobody knows anything about him,
except "Nymphs and Shepherds"
I could play a shepherd
and Nelly could play a nymph
No seriously, Charlie,
you can make it all up...
we'll get George to put it on
and we'll make you a star!
We could even get an Arts Council grant
- Means-test Man!
We can get Guy to play King James,
Vernon can do Spratt...
and Murray can play... thingy...
what's he called'? Salisbury
Shaftesbury, Bill, Shaftesbury
Another five years ensnared by middle-class
pietists... Thank you very much!
He's the only composer to be buried here
apart from John Blow, his teacher...
and, hallelujah! George Frederick
ls this... Vellington'?
Paid for by a lady
- What?
A lady... we don't know who.
There's even a mystery there
Who paid for the inscription next to
Purcelis grave'? Lady Howard, possibly
We know when he died; St Cecilia's Day -
the patron saint of music -
probably of tuberculosis,
possibly of chocolate poisoning
We don't know when
orwhere he was born...
whether his father
was actually his uncle...
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One thing we are sure about is that
he owed everything to Charles ll
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Yes, you. You wouldn't
even be remembered.
Who remembers tarts unless they
get to screw somebody famous?
"No sleep as sweet as thine"
Isn't he pretty'? Aren't you pretty'?
Vot'? Vellington'?
Well, l'll do my best. Where shall we start'?
The music and the mirth of Kings
are out of tune
Do you know, she picked up this tourist
in Westminster Abbey!
What were you doing there?
You're not a Christian
Yes I am
- Church of England, are we'?
Do you know, Purcell wrote nearly a
thousand pieces of music in just 16 years -
only 15 ofthem actually signed
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Everybody thought Charles ll
was Church of England, but he wasn't
Yes... I know all that
l know all that. We must fight the Dutch,
but who will pay for it'?
Where will the money come from'?
I do believe the Devil shits Dutchmen
Who'?
The judge who sentenced your father
to his death
Must l'? I am weary of hanging
Let it sleep
Who...
Majesty?
- ...is that'?
Your future Queen, sire.
From Braganza
She looks like... a bat
My dear...
Such pretty hands and...
feet'?
A dowry of half a million, Tangiers,
access to Brazil and the East Indies trade
Tea, coffee...
rubber, your Majesty
I shall have to contain myself
with my Lisbon Kate
I shall of course do my duty
Shall I not, my Lady Castlemaine'?
40,000 or so... or so...
Yes, let's say £40,000,
Master Kiffin, is the sum which...
were you to offer in loan would make us
so grateful it should advance ye...
Majesty, uttter honour, sire,
Death, I swear it!
But rather I would give ye this day...
give ye... £10,000, give ye!
And you shall, Master Kiffin...
for Love hath greater power
and less mercy than Fate
Joy! I am saved 30,000
Saved 30,000!
No matter the lack of money
The theatres were flung open,
news-sheets flung up...
poetry written, music heard
I had the occasional success myself
But it was the actresses
which took the King's eye
Most chief among these
was pretty, witty Nell...
with whom I had some dalliance myself
before Charles the King...
but that's another story
Oh, poet. Damned dull poet!
Who could prove so senseless
as to make Nelly die for love'?
Nay, what yet worse, to kill me
in the prime of Easter time...
in tart and cheesecake time!
And a mighty pretty soul she is!
Bloody freezing
Yes, my dear Barbara, you have every right
to ask me to support you
What do you want'?
Money, I suppose
Would be a help
Writing a play, I hear
Well, trying to, you know...
Writers dissemble, you know. Like you
They're not to be trusted. Like you
They look for intellectual respect
and approbation. Like you
They flatter, indulge, and offer false
and easy comfort. Like you
Once, our native language
was refined and free...
like the old liturgy ofthe Anglican Church,
or Pepys, Dryden, Purcell -
each of whom tried to find a vibrant language
in which it was possible only...
to tell the truth
That, I believe, is worthy
and worth our attention
It's for her, I suppose.
The starving Nelly'?
No, it's for me. It's about Purcell
Anything in it for me'?
- I wouldn't think so
It's about genius...
Welcome to Her Majesty's Royal Palace
and fortress, the Tower of London...
and in particular to the Wakefield Tower,
usually known as the Jewel Tower
Here you see in the first case
Her Majesty's Crown Jewels
Here, of course, is St Edward's crown...
used in the Coronation of all our Sovereigns
ever since 1661
when the Crown was made
specifically for King Charles ll
On the right of St Edward's crown,
of course, is the ampula and spoon
The ampula was filled with holy oil...
to anoint our Sovereign
during the Coronation service
The Crown weighs five pounds in gold...
and is encrusted
with over 400 precious stones -
diamonds, emeralds, sapphires,
rubies and what have you
What we'll take you to now is the Imperial
State Crown, which is much smaller
Come on, this way now
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Were these paid for'?
- No they were not
Cost me, his goldsmith,
32,000 - mine by rights
Oh, but he was merry
Sank ten fathoms deep
all Parliament's mumping
Pure gold
Sire, you'll stop on
and take the other bottle'?
Upon my soul I do declare...
he hath the best manner of singing
in the world!
Butch, the plague!
It came every year, and fearwith it
1665 was the worst - the hottest
summer in memory, my memory
And mine it is that shrinks from it,
from the numbers dead
Halfthe population of London... gone.
Cut down, like a flower
Even the dogs,
grisly outlaws of nature, killed
40,000 of them
The Dutch brought it, your Majesty,
they had it first!
It come ashore with the Dutch
and now we all dies, your Majesty!
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and so many sad stories as I walk
A dying city. All fled who can
Bring out your dead!
In London Fields in Hackney
they buried them
Harry's father among them - in a pit
They say the ravens are beating
at the doors ofthe dying
No boats upon the river
The grass is growing
all up and down Whitehall
None but wretches in the street
Spots... first... do generally appear
in the region ofthe heart and liver
Or the breast or...
- No, no, everywhere
Tokens big is half a crown...
sometimes red with blue within,
on hands, face, neck
Black they go, black from melancholy
Robbery and thievery,
the looting of plunder...
public hangings...
bonfires to purify the stinking air,
everywhere, everywhere...
So short a time...
Since I have so short a time to live...
a little ease to these my torments give
A land of confusion and endless night...
where horror reigns,
where darkness is might
Take up the filth from among us as
ye take our sins from us we do but plead...
and shit from us the plague of popery!
The best remedy, apart from tobacco...
is wash out the mouth with vinegar often...
and rosemary, sorrel, verjuice, marigolds...
all these stuff in the cracks and holes
ofthe body when abroad
All had from a physician before he
decamped to Gloucester, the coward
The king goes to see the wretched sick
and gives a thousand pounds...
Oh, bless him... even though...
Even though he will not pay for music
Even though he loves it
And then the fire destroyed halfthe city
Master Pepys, Master Pepys!
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I saw some smoke,
but went back to bed...
for the source being assuredly no more near
than the backside of Marke Lane
Our Lord Mayor neither, I am told,
saw cause for concern
His words: "A maid may piss it out"
Well Jane certainly could not!
There are some buckets being filled
but no fire squirts nor cistern engines
All simply remove themselves
Will it reach up here'?
Jaws clamped shut, singing boys!
Do not expose your throats to the heat!
Breathe not but through stuff!
Pull us away, boatman,
orwe'll burn up on the water!
Muffle boys, muffle!
Your cords are everything!
No sooner are we free of Cromwell
and can have boys sing again...
than the flames of his hell
lick up at us
Such a roaring was never seen
in the city before
Oh, do you see his Majesty?
Jamie, they must pull the houses down
before it. ls it not being done'?
Oh, they will not
They must do it or the fire will never
be stopped. Where is my Lord Mayor'?
Having his daughter piss on it'?
I have fought in his wars,
for his father's righteous cause!
The decree has gone out!
Repent or burn!
Squash another murderous Frenchman
as should never have been born alive!
See his black hands
where he has set light to London
ls the popish villain left his life yet'?
Enough! Enough!
- N0 pOpery, your Majesty!
I see nothing that pertains
to the man's religion
It will suffice that he is French
- Indeed it will, for him
Set to it like no ordinary men
or your city will burn itself to death!
Seize me that bucket.
Ted, toss it to me, man
My Lord Clarendon, these flames quicken
They will not thank him for it...
but blame him and the religion
he is secret supposed to hold!
What he do or not do, he has my loyalty...
in spite ofthe money he owes me
He has not paid his music in six years
which is why no man will bring his child in it
So it need be that the science itself
must die in this nation! Six years!
Six years since you went
to King's crowning!
God save the King!
God save the King!
I promised a liberty
to tender consciences...
and this shall be a cause and reason
for my six new colonies in the Americas
Maryland I name in memory
of my mother, Maria...
New York for my brother James,
Duke of York...
and the Carolinas and Charles Town for me
Why did you make me
go on that... march'?
You're always telling me that Charles ll
had to endure plots and demonstrations...
not to mention fire and plague...
so I thought you ought to see
what a real demo is like!
You're one ofthose militants that exploits
political crises for personal glory
You're both psychopathic
and self-righteous!
Ah, no! My book!
"My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land,
yet could l never come to understand...
that it was slighted or turned out of door
by any kingdom, were they rich or poor
In France and Flanders,
where men kill each other...
my Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother
'Tis in New England under such advance
receives there so much loving countenance...
as to be trimmed, new clothed
and decked with gems...
that it might show its features and its limbs"
Who is that'?
As Treasurer, you should know
...goldsmiths and bankers
of Lombard Street...
to whom your Majesty owes £1 ,300,000
That is a very great sum, my lord.
What might we do'?
Prorogue Parliament,
close the Exchequer...
all interest on payments stopped,
all interest due on loans refused
Splendid!
War, pestilence, fire, and now...
Damn me if we ain't ruined!
Was ever a city so afflicted
4,000 streets destroyed, 90 churches,
14,000 houses...
Architecture has its political uses, my lord...
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But the cost, your Majesty
What Master Wren has designed
will cost eight million! At least!
It establishes the Nation,
draws People and Commerce...
and makes men love their native country
So he built all ofthis...
- More or less
And why the boat'?
Oh, he and his brother used to love racing
up and down the Thames, just for a bet
He was a fantastic sailor, apparently
He called his boat "The Fubbs"
after the nickname of his mistress -
one of his mistresses,
the Duchess of Portsmouth
She was small and squat
and broad of beam... like you
Cheeky bugger!
How many did he have then'?
What?
- Women
Howwould I know?
- I don't know...
Thought you are looking him up,
writing a play or something
Stop it, keep your hands to yourself
if you're not going to be nice
He was accused of having 39
Even had up before a church court
to answer some pamphlet written about him
"The Poor Whore's Petition", it was called
Scurrilous
- It may be, but...
The temper of England may be indifferent
to religion, my Lord Bishop...
but I... lam not!
Is it true, Majesty?
Certainly, my Lord Bishop
One mistress for each Article of Faith
There are 39, are there not'?
Such is my devotion
to our Church of England
Weigh your anchors!
Time and tide admit no delay
l'll silence your mourning with vows of
returning and never intend to visit you more!
What are you going to do today'?
What Charles wanted and what
Purcell wrote about so gloriously...
was a country of tolerance,
irony, kindliness
Not like today, when the modesty of heroes
is dispatched with derision and contempt...
and thus thrown up a generation forwhom
"honour" is a forgotten, meaningless currency
May God rot the tyranny of equality...
streamlining, classlessness...
and above all, absurd,
irrelevant "correctness"
That's just a matter of opinion
and you know it!
Ah, opinions!
Do you knowthat opinion-making is this
country's most virulent growth industry
The market is insatiable
Newspapers, like television,
pour out opinions...
with a frenzy that marked the production
of Spitfires during the war
Phone-ins proliferate, choked with calls from
the semi-literate, the bigoted and the barmy
Opinion polls, the entrails of democracy,
are picked over for prophetic insights
We've become a nation
of babbling backseat cab-drivers
"What are you giving up for Lent?"
I was asked yesterday
"Opinions", I said. "Permanently!"
Ha bloody ha!
Well, to answer your earlier question,
I'm off to the British Library
Want to come'?
You could pick up...
an education!
The London Gazette, October 9th, 1701
"The score ofthe music for the Fairie Queen,
set by the late Mr Henry Purcell...
and belonging to the Theatre Royal
in Covent Garden in London...
being lost by his death...
Whoever brings the said score
to Mr Zachary Baggs...
treasurer of the said theatre,
shall have 2O guineas reward give him!
God, the actual score
Good for Mr Baggs! I hope he paid up
2O guineas for such
a priceless manuscript, eh'?
"The Fairie Queen,
first performed May 2nd, 1692"
Some of it in PurcelPs own hand...
so clear, so beautiful...
What's this'?
"We play loud or soft, according to our fancy,
or the mood ofthe music"
Blank pages!
"Here follows..." But what'?
What on earth did they do'?
"Let kindness be our guide..."
"The irony of love... The tolerance of hope"
"Still and soften the sound
as shades in needlework..."
Give an actor directions like that
and he'll do what he likes
Make it up as he goes along!
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From hence you may...
From hence you may look back on Civil Rage
and viewthe ruins of a former age
Here a New World its glories may unfold...
and here be saved the remnants ofthe old
But while your days
on public thoughts are bent...
past ills to heal, and future to prevent...
some vacant hours allow to your delight...
mirth is the pleasing business
of the night
Hush, hush, no more
Be silent
Sweet repose has closed her eyes
Soft as feathered snow does fall
Softly, softly...
Softly
Hard by Pall Mall lives a wench called Nell...
King Charles the Second he kept her
She hath got a trick to handle his prick...
but never lays hands on his sceptre!
Where did you get that'?
Said at the time, sweetheart, a lot of
scurrilous poetry about at the time
And dirty ditties too -
Purcell wrote quite a few
Just imagine what
he must have seen growing up...
in that stew of "luxury and
inexpressible profaneness"
By the time he came of age...
young Harry was already
well established at the court
Organist at Westminster Abbey...
Composer in Ordinary
like his uncle before him...
Keeper of the Kings fiddles
Still with his boyhood friend, Pelham
Still a boy himself
I remember, I remember...
You Harry...
- I shall not!
If not you, then I must and I cannot
for I am just married myself...
and not an instant
would I spend away from it
Marriage... Oh do, Harry, what will you learn,
the King commands it!
L-low does he'?
- He commands me and I command you
It's French!
- It is
'I'llH§1IIKfll'KIl,
BID
But not this... "The Marriage of Bacchus"!
Does he hate his brother so much
he would give him this is a wedding gift'?
No, no, no. This rivalry... between
the King's Company and his brother's...
James? Well, he ne'er troubled his head
with too much thinking
If his brotherwants a French play,
then so must Charles
The cost of it!
London is not big enough
for two theatre companies, I tell you
Isn't she wonderful?
Wonderfully large, she certainly is
Isn't she French'?
Much the same as you were,
your first week back from Paris
In the King's service, Harry,
the Secret Service
I remember it well, the complete Monsieur
Monsieur Pefam Umfraise
ofthe Chapel Royal, full of Moliére...
I 'ave eeet - I will 'ave 'er, sir!
- Thought you might, Monsieur
I can't play it, Monsieur, I can't play this!
Too many notes... impossible!
And could he, it would be dreary
and incomprehensible
There may be some merit...
- None, I shall not!
All human things are subject to decay
So when Fate summons,
e'en a Monarch must obey
And yet, a setting sun describes
a track of glory in the skies
The King was grown old
Only his horses at Newmarket
seemed to please him
Did I tell you'? He founded
the great stables at Newmarket
Champion jockey he was,
with his brother, James
James, waiting, watching...
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so whistled as he went,
for want of thought
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to be the heir, yet always made to wait
What Charles wanted was for
the Crown itself to be extraordinary...
Not like today...
when the monarchy isn't even the tarnished
gold fillings in a mouthful of decay
The rot set in, of course,
with Queen Victoria
That no-neck little widow who spent most
ofthe 6O glorious years of her reign...
skulking behind closed portcullis doors,
leading a life of ineffable dullness...
snapping at her huge family
and foreign relations
Her husband, quite understandably,
thought she was mad
The King still loved the ladies of course.
The latest being Mistress Louise...
the "Duchess" of Portsmouth
whom he had known for some time...
but who was French, Catholic -
and called "Fubbs"
Why'? I was never able to discover
Her son, the "Duke" of Richmond,
also founded a racecourse I'm told...
at Goodwood
Butch, a merry Monarch,
scandalous but poor...
restless he rolled about
from whore to whore
And he still loved his music,
though he did not pay for it
Young Harry was always with him -
and with him...
his new lady, Frances -
to provide a welcome ode or an anthem,
whatever was required
No matter that plot and counterplot...
the scourge of violence lurked everywhere,
t'other side of the hangings
Remember'? Returns it to the memory'?
The great pope-burning processions...
Does the memoryjog'?
Bread and carnivals...
Few took them seriously
The King knew men to a hair
and never let them forget it
Do you see them,
of his loins not one legitimate
He has peopled
the aristocracy of England!
The Queen is barren
He should rid himself of her
lf he will not, he must declare you
Duke of Monmouth and his heir
As first born, bastard or no,
you could be King, young man
The tragedy was that the King
had no children of his own
No legitimate children
His bastard son, Monmouth,
was always plotting against him
He loved his son,
but he was not his heir
He was not the Crown
Nature and Nature's Laws lay hid in night...
'til God said: "Let there be Newton"
And all was... light!
Yes, the honour is...
Overwhelming'?
- No, I am not overwhelmed
I am perfectly capable
of arranging the music...
for the announcement of the wedding
of your niece, the Princess Mary...
hfiflfliilll-IIXQ
Iii
and I am...
Overwhelmed'?
Your Majesty, may I humbly submit...
Ah, Squire Dryden
"lf love and honour now are higher raised,
'tis not the poet, but the age is praised
Wit's not arrived to a more high degree...
our native language more refined and free"
XIII, KI,
CUEI-IIQ Dhlfil-
take this man, William,
as your dearly beloved husband'?
And wilt thou, William Henry,
Prince of Orange...
take this woman, Mary,
as your dearly beloved wife'?
With this ring I thee wed,
with my body I thee worship...
and with all my worldly goods I thee endow
I now pronounce ye man and wife,
till death do ye part
Gather it up girl, it is all clear gain
Those whom God hath joined together,
let no man put asunder
You have to get used to my habits!
We may have to live together
for a long while!
Have you told the King'?
- Told the King'?
I don't talk to the King,
unless he talks to me, which...
on the matter of my marriage to Frances,
which we are determined shall...
We are determined
ulna
mining
I shall take the sacrament
Look...
She, you Frances, are Flanders
and Catholic
Harry here, now he is...
Well, he's not
Dryden is, certainly,
but now we are none of us of...
Ofthe old religion
- Dare not be
The King is... secretly
You must not say that.
That is not true
The nation would be rent were it so again
Up and down the land we would...
Oh, it would be awful, as it was
You may not remember
how we were at throats...
Englishmen at the throats
of other Englishmen
We will be married
We are married in love
Well... I shall not tell the King
Oh, do take care Master Purcell
From this blessed man,
music just seemed to flow
Motets, anthems, songs...
all manner of music
for all manner of occasions
There was no dam,
no stop to his golden flask
He was... unstoppable
What do it say'?
- Vivace
What do it mean'?
- Fast and brisk
Why don't you say so, young man'?
Ain't it French enough for you'?
What do I 'grave down here
Adagio, if you would take
the very great kindness, sir
'IIQIHQKIDIIIJ
- K
Oddsfish, do you mean to set that?
- Yes
Oh, how your brothers, Charlie and... Joe'?
Are they still travelling abroad
- They must, they promised the King...
"for he commandeth
and raiseth up the stormy wind...
which lifteth up the waves thereof,
and we near to drowned"
Very good!
You can set that...
as long as you promise to abandon
your detestable viols!
What, and achieve a fiddle?
Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry...
I will travel no more
I resolve that I shall
go abroad no more
It's unimaginable,
who would think it or plot it'?
Some would, some do
But then I am beset by plots,
am I not, my Lord Shaftesbury'?
When I die...
- God save your Majesty!
...l know not what my brother might do
I am much afraid that he may be obliged
to travel again, for his religion...
But I shall take care
to leave my kingdom at peace...
wishing that he may long keep it so
But these are all my fears,
little of my hopes and less of my reason
I tell you...
poets... that one...
my bastard, pretty Prince Perkin...
will be put on the throne
by the Protestants...
by the Whigs, under Shaftesbury -
the loudest bagpipe in the squeaky train
You must fight Shaftesbury for me,
you must fight popery too
I'm so weary
Do excuse me for taking
such a long time a-dying
Doomsday, my Lord Shaftesbury,
we shall see whose arse is blackest
Listen awhile and I'll tell you a tale...
of a little device
called the Protestant flail
This flail is made ofthe finest new wood...
for the splitting of brains
and the shedding of blood
With a thump-a-thump thump,
a thump-a-thump thump...
Come out, you papist whore!
Pray good people, be civil!
The King's whore I may be,
but I'm his Protestant whore!
Among the Loyalist people,
I am your spokesman...
and by the grace of God
nobody will silence me
l, Titus Oates, tell you Lords,
there is a popish plot in the land...
for the destruction
of his Majesty King Charles...
and that man, he, Lord Stafford,
he took from me a commission...
that I was give by Jesuits...
that he should act as Paymaster General
of the Pope's army...
to ravage this land!
...like the prigs and bullies who would now
would have dominion over our daily lives
All ofthis will have to go, you know
No one will put up with all this violence,
not on the telly anyway
No one will put up the money
to make the thing
Violence'?
What about the violence
of threatened profit?
The great English bourgeoisie...
who claim to believe in the virtue
of "leaving things alone"...
but whose objectives narrow down to a
painful sore of human undernourishment'?
Those are the people,
the "disgusted of Tunbridge Wells"...
who are, in reality,
possessed of the real violence...
the greedy desire
to order the lives of all...
especially those who speak out of turn...
the sexually immoral - they think -
like King Charles...
or those who simply
blaze forth their youth...
like Purcell, Newton, Wren,
the whole lot of 'em
Then is the voice of Jeremiah heard
loud and clear in the land...
or at least in the columns
of the Daily Telegraph!
You're just a bloody socialist!
- Socialist? Ha!
To be a socialist today, my dear old Bill...
is like being in the priesthood
in a world without God...
still trying to remember
the Order of Service...
prattling ceaselessly
about the "classless society"...
to a middle class it dare not defy
And what are you doing'?
Trying to tune into God'?
No, the Overseas Service.
We've got a play on, remember?
This is London...
Well, at least the BBC
hasn't forgotten the Empire!
Oh, no. I'm dogged by that bloody tune
They've whistled it, sung it, jeered it
up and down the length ofthe land
Blood will flow from it, l'll warrant,
before we have our quietude again
It's become an incitement,
never an accompaniment...
I can't hold myself responsible
It is believed the man Oates lies
It's not believed
there was any plot at all
I shall use it as a ground
since that requires so littlejudgment
And you would set "Richard ll",
the tale of a usurper
l have renamed it "The Sicilian Usurper".
None shall know
Bejudge yourself, I'll bring it to the test
Which is the basest creature,
man or beast?
Birds feed on birds,
beasts on each other prey...
but savage Man alone does Man betray
The winter which came in 1684
was savage
The Thames froze over
The King became gravely ill
We were all afraid
I'm going blind
I shall write no more
I've written none of my diary for years
This stinking city, very little food neither
Because of the ice...
They've arrested that pygmy,
Shaftesbury, you know
A glittering worm in excrement
I am going blind, you know...
Did you never hear the tale
ofthe starving soldier...
who was fighting in the Holy Crusade'?
He was told by his officer
that if he died in battle...
he would dine in Paradise
with the blessed Jesus
Well, the soldier ran away,
he didn't want to fight
And when he returned after the battle...
the officer asked him why he had run away
"Did you not want to dine with Christ?"
he asked
And the soldier replied,
"No, I'm fasting today...
fretting my pygmy body to decay"
Which body... they strung up
It's my blindness, you know
We smelled death in the air
Harry's firstborn... died
IIll-uihpl-ll'.
lilfli
Young Harry worked on, worked on...
Asked to judge which was the best
organ in the land! I ask you!
Oh, what an absurdity at times
does possess us... I ask you!
A most unwarrantable act of hostility!
Since there is only one organ may be played,
perhaps we should play it
The King is dead! Dead!
A Prince of so many virtues...
Gracious on... so many occasions
Oh, hide me, Frances. Hide me
Hide me from the light of day
And with the new King
marched General Disorder
The theatre in confusion -
riots, hangings...
The stink of revolution
once again in the air
Fear stalked the land
in dread of what we thought might come
Men set their door
against the setting sun
"ifllllq!
-$I
Ever'?
- What about'?
You know...
they're arresting those who did...
We have a Catholic King on the throne
- Yes, but will he pay his debts?
They say the Queen's Benedictines
are costing 1,500 a year
I fear this may well be the end
of my church music
I fear it may
Why sleeps the viol and the lute'?
Why hangs untuned the idle lyre'?
They are come for us!
- No, no, there's no need to be afraid
Henry Purcell, Composer in Ordinary
to the King's Music'?
I'm still that'?
Clerk ofthe Cheque Extraordinary
to His Majesty King James...
Colonel Wharton at your service, sir
I shall want a receipt, sir
Monies for repairing the King's instruments
before his Coronation
What is it'?
From the King - out of
the Secret Service money -
34 pounds and 12 shillings...
for erecting an organ!
But life continued, it always does
l'_"_~h_'
i_ n
And while others fluttered in the wind...
he stood shoulder to shoulderwith those
he loved and with those who loved him
Tell me, you Gods...
why do vain men pursue with endless toil
each object that is new...
and cast aside that
which they know is true'?
Paid for erecting an organ!
What art thou, what art thou'? Confess!
Giovanni Draghi. At your service, sir
Too many Italians at Court!
There's nothing wrong with being Italian.
Italians are now in favour at Court
I'm very proud to be Italian
And I'm very proud to admit ajust imitation
of your Italian Masters...
who do bring seriousness and gravity
into vogue, nay reputation...
against the levity and balladry
of our neighbours, the French!
None may sing as low as my gosling
He called me his gosling
Oh do fill up my bowl...
'IIILHQIIIIIIIIQ
I11-
For God' s sake, sing us a catch...
We must play
- What?
Blind man's buff!
The 107th Psalm. I set it
Too late. The King, dead, will never hear it
l shall lower it into his grave
Oh, God, I'm drunk!
He was a great King, would set us all...
England too... all... all up
Well, now we have another
His brother
England declined.
King James was Catholic
But then, so too was I
Debts piled, bankers grew fat
Bankruptcy flourished
Poverty and death
dropped on us everywhere
"windy. lnlnuuunn
and!
Yodrejealous, that's all!
- Of yourwork'? Come on!
Jealousy, that poisons passion...
- And despair that dies for love
Yes, I have read the beginning
of your rotten little play, you know
Rotten? Little?
Do you know what this country
has become'?
Once we had a church built upon a rock
Nowthe rock has been bulldozed
and with it our faith
What we're left with
is a crawling underside...
of expediency and dishonour,
beholden to Brussels...
wherein the crooked shall be made straight
and the rough places plain
England, my England, is shuffling about
like an old tramp...
begging for a pair of boots
at the tradesman's entrance of Europe
Europe is the future and you know it!
"Europe" is an adroit piece
of brand-name dropping...
which will turn democracy into a hoax -
a Masonic Lodge of Commerce with a
squalid membership of political mercenaries
The English conscience,
for so many years out for hire or rent...
is now up for outright purchase
The "Common Market"...
is about as drab a name
for such a monumental swindle...
since some bright little German ad-man...
thought of putting wholesale murder
onto the market as National Socialism
And then, another miracle...
Without a blow, James was gone...
prised out by the old aristocracy
which was Protestant...
and would not tolerate him any more...
and went to his daughter, Mary,
and her husband, William of Orange...
who landed at Torbay,
to general acclaim assured
See the flags and streamers curling...
anchors weighing, sails unfurling!
Where is the Queen?
Oh, do hurry up!
It seemed a new
and glorious age had arrived
And for young Harry'?
You are to receive all your monies,
Master Purcell
I am honoured, Majesty
There is great want among the music
There is great want in the Nation,
Master Purcell
For peace and prosperity, Majesty,
there is a great yearning
There is a great yearning, Master Purcell,
for martial music
Oboes and trumpets, Master Purcell
William... will want you
to write martial themes...
such as "Sound the Trumpet",
"Beat the Drums"...
written, I believe, for my father
the late King, James that is...
so lately fled these shores
Oh, you have but to command, Majesty
Oh, but I do command, Master Purcell
I command you to celebrate this...
triumphant day, Master Purcell
These sums of money, Mr Purcell...
taken for admission to the organ loft
for a better sight of the Coronation...
are the right ofthe Abbey
so to accrue, sirrah!
Sirrah me not, Doctor Sprat!
You may be Dean ofthe Abbey
but I am in considerable station myself
You are a minder ofthe instruments, sir
and have no right to collect any monies.
11131111.
-1lil
I am Composer in Ordinary! Organist,
Copyist, and person of considerable worth
A musician born to the Chapel Royal
like my father and uncle also...
my life lived here,
my work for this place
You will pay back every penny, sirrah!
I shall not
It is my perquisite as it has been
the perquisite of every organist...
You shall give all the money
to Mr Needham, sir...
or in default you will lose your place,
Master Purcell!
Beware, Saul to Endor comes...
lam being dunned
I am pursued for debt...
damned for my religion!
They say I must pay back the money
I had for letting places in the organ loft
It's always been done. I have the right
I shall not
Though my debts be such
that I shall lose my house
Many do boom and bust, these times...
Nothing at the Court. Not any more
The stage is the thing - for both of us
I knewthat when I saw"Dioclesian"
I said, here is an Englishman
equal to anyone abroad!
Did I not'?
And here I have something...
None need know
"King Arthur",
originally written for King Charles
Too many words, too little action
n~_u*'l'lluhlu-
Illih '
I always thought we should have done that.
Lancelot and Guinevere...
and Merlin - great part for you!
Words are free, Bill.
Conscience is cheaper
It will not serve!
My brother Edward serves -
in TyrconnePs Regiment in Ireland
It has within it subversion and religion...
and mention ofthe King's defeat at Mons,
which is not politic nor is it true
Nor may you say he has a mistress!
- I say none ofthis, I simply set it
It is a work for the theatre... an opera!
Opera is a danger you will do best to avoid!
"King Arthur"... an opera,
written by Mr Dryden...
was excellently adorned
with scenes and machines...
with dances made by Mr Josias Priest,
at a total cost of a mere £3000!
The musical part set by
the famous Mr Purcell...
whose yearly salary was £1 O0...
with Lady Mary Tudor
most excellently undressed as Cupid!
The play and music
pleased the Court and City...
and being well performed,
it was very gainful to the company
It was awful, wife
It was not heard for machinery,
sliding shutters...
roar of cannon, blast of trumpets
and flights of... parrots!
Betterton wants to do "The Fairie Queen".
From Shakespeare.
With text by that oaf, Sedley...
the father ofthe late King's mistress,
Mistress Catherine
What of the Queen'?
What of the Queen'?
She clasped her hands...
and smiled at me with such...
such consideration
Did she though'?
And then she died
- Who'?
The Queen. Mary. Almost overnight
Taken sick and died within a week
A statistical survey ofthe health
ofthe late 17th century...
reveals that from every hundred births...
only one in three
lived beyond the age of six
Queen Anne had 18 children. All died
He cometh up,
and is cut down like a flower
Only one in 1O lived until they were 7O
The most common disease was rickets,
resulting in deformed limbs and scrofula...
while spotted fever, pleurisy, pneumonia
and above all, smallpox...
killed two out of every five ofthe population
The first symptoms of smallpox
are shivering...
followed by red spots on the skin,
a rapid rise in temperature...
vomiting, headaches, intolerance to light,
a swollen tongue...
haemorrhage of the skin,
a tearing pain...
and death
Regular bleeding, by cutting
into the patienfs veins...
is thought to alleviate the suffering,
although only temporarily
Suffer us not at our last hour
from any pains of death to fall from Thee...
I fear I am becoming old...
and infirmities come with age
Where is my husband'?
- Returning from Ireland, your Majesty
I long for rest and peace
A lion has died, you know
At Christmas
A lion died when Charles...
the King...
Remember me...
and may my wrongs
create no trouble in thy breast
No trouble in thy breast
She was only 32
He fleeth as it were a shadow
Thou knowest, Lord,
the secrets of our hearts
Shut not Thy merciful ears
unto our prayers...
but spare us, Lord most holy,
O God most mighty...
Her death broke young Harry.
At least, that is my view
He tried his best to revive his "Dido",
not one of mine, but some say his best
But he had no money, you see,
so he had to play Belinda himself
What irony that was
My girls, Master Purcell!
My girls, my nymphs, my shepherds!
What can be done, Master Purcell?
Cut them out, Mr Priest!
Belinda, the loyal servant
of a Queen, who dies for love
I told you, when we first did this,
some four years back...
although we did it in private,
as we do now... cut them out!
They are a mediocrity!
The King would cut everything out,
especially his musicians!
Ever gentle, ever smiling...
and the cares of life beguiling, Mr Priest.
Begumng!
Beguiling!
Our world was disintegrating
We moved as in a dream,
shadows without substance
Thus did our life become.
'Tis all a cheat
Yet, fooled with hope,
men favour the deceit
Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay
Tomorrow is falser than the former day
So when the last and dreadful hour...
this crumbling pageant shall devour...
shall the trumpet still be heard on high'?
No! The dead shall live, the living die...
while music shall untune the sky
No government has ever been
or ever can be...
wherein Timeservers and Blackheads
will not be uppermost
The persons only are changed
The samejuggling in the State,
the same hypocrisy in Religion
The same self-interest
and mismanagement will...
remain... for ever
Suffer us not at our last hour...
from any pains of death to fall from Thee
Harry was inconsolable
His heart screamed for peace,
ifthat is what it was...
and he sought it in a hospital
called Bethlehem...
among the mad of Bedlam
These poor souls, he told me,
had seen the light
What light?
Had they seen those shadows
which we could not see, could only feel
Thou knowest, Lord,
the secrets of our heart
Shut not thy merciful eyes
from our prayers...
but spare us Lord most Holy,
God most mighty
England, my England!
Do you know what this country has become'?
And old tramp shuffling around...
begging for a pair of boots
at the tradesman's entrance of Europe!
Oh, but I do command, Master Purcell
I command you to celebrate
this triumphant day!
Master Purcell...
When we first did this,
although we did it in private as we do now...
I told you then, cut them out!
They are a mediocrity!
Still... mediocrity is a great comforter
You'll see
I will become a grand object
of public unconcern
My Dido'? Not even performed.
At least not in public
Since "Dioclesian", some 5O works
for the stage in only four years
And the result?
Penury. Begging for enough to...
Tell me, is this ugly, cheerless world
in which we live...
supposed to be typical'?
Is this all'?
Well, at least you never assembled
a lot of sloppy fads...
and served them up as innovations
I mourned the unknown,
the loss of what went before...
the deprivation of what, even as a child,
seemed irrevocably my own...
my birthplace... my country...
1111i,
Ilflflflfflil
Have I looked for answers
where there are none'?
Everyone demands answers,
like happiness, as a right
How hopeless! How... ironic
Ah, irony!
That English virtue
that purifies our rowdy passion
No. Hope comes from within, my friend
When hope goes, we freeze
Hope falters, but never fawns or crowds,
never stands in line
Even in dread and noise it strains
for coherence, for a snatch of harmony
An old trumpet,
played upon but not playing -
sounding, but only in my head
Alas...
coherence conceals as much
as it reveals to the lost, like me...
who contemplate the wreckage
Frances!
Let me in!
L lived among the hills footmarked here...
rooted here, in ancient English time
Frances, will the King
ever pay our debts'?
Two hundred, isn't it'?
At 2O pence a day, it's little wonder...
"'Tis women make us love,
'tis loving makes us sad...
'tis sadness makes us drunk,
and drinking makes us mad"
ls it not St Cecilia's Day tomorrow?
L shall write a Comical History...
of Don Quixote
Pray for me
He was a Colossus, the boy
It flew up from him
Notes, everything -
they'll not find the half of it
Did he not give to the Englishman
his glorious, unquenchable music?
There'll be none like him
"Remember me"
It's gone up. The notice
Ah, when'?
This is the last week
Good. I'm very tired of it. You'?
And I've got a coffee commercial
Did you get that film'?
"...and forget my fate"
Still, never mind,
there's always your play
That's if you ever finish it, though
There's always the telly...
gunman
“flit!
Only from established authors, I'm told
in and around the year of our Lord, 1660...
two things miraculous came about
which, as l shall relate...
gave us great hope for the future
ofthis island, this England
The first, the Restoration of Charles Stuart
to his throne of England...
after many long years of exile in Holland -
miraculous for his father, King Charles,
was executed by Cromwell...
only 11 years earlier
And the second, the birth of Henry Purcell,
organist, composer...
his father and his uncle both ofthe Chapel
Royal in the great Abbey at Westminster
From heaven he came
Their lives were drawn together
as if by divine hand
And together they changed
our history for ever
Kind Heaven, make us Englishman again
Any who may show good reason...
why Charles Stuart shall not
be King of England...
let him come forth and speak
Dread Sovereign, I offer no flattering
titles, but speak words of truth
You are the desire ofthree kingdoms...
the strength and stay
of the tribes of the people
Really? Why then did it
take you so long to ask me back'?
Oddsfish, Mr Newton, what's this'?
A wrestling match'?
Mr Newton, why are you upon the floor'?
Well, we're sure never to see
his like again... in this world
'Tis said, we have a pretty, witty King,
whose word no man relies on
He never says a foolish thing,
and never does a wise one
To which His Majesty replied:
"That is very true,
for my words are my own...
my actions are those of my Ministers"
illllfl
HIIIIiQDQIIfiI
Dire
Well, it's a creaky old play
I rather liked it. Howwould you know?
You've never seen it
No, but I've heard it, forweeks
I'm never dry there!
Oh, don't look so sad, sweetheart.
Any of us could have done it
Well, sorry, it ruined the whole scene
It doesn't matter, it didn't ruin anything
Go on, get dressed if you're coming
- I don't think I feel like eating
KFIQIQIIIIKI'.
fill, Ii
Oh, how's the mighty work'?
Stopped, ceased, dead
So, we're writing a play, are we'?
Well it can't be as bad as this one
May I remind you ladies and gentlemen,
the matinee starts tomorrow at five o'clock...
with orwithout an audience
And would the owner ofthe blue
Ford Cortina, BKH 1T...
not park outside the stage door
as this space is reserved...
for the manager ofthe Sloane Square
Underground station
Didn't take you long
- No, never does
Bill was in
- Shit!
Nelly, Nelly, where are you'?
Oh, Bill, he's in the shower,
he didn't know you were in
I didn't know you were in.
Did you know you were going to be'?
Did you notice me dry'? Sorry
Don't apologise to me Nelly Gwyn,
apologise to Charles
Ihfllli
- KIIIIIUIIII,III
When are we coming off'?
I have never seen anything as boring
as tonight. What's the matterwith you'?
Everybody knows it's coming off, Bill
Well I don't know it's coming off
and I'm the fucking producer!
And even if it is coming off,
who's to blame?
We're supposed to be doing a play
of our times here, the golden age
But does it look like it'?
Does it buggery!
It looks like some creaky old piece
by George Bernard Shaw
'Iljiili
-filfllllll.fillfilfll'kll
QIIIQD.
Ylllili, I'll!!!
I mean we can do anything
as long as it's not boring!
Hello Bill, didn't know you were in
EIIillTUIII-GIH
Illii
They opened up the theatres again
Science, poetry, Dryden, Milton,
actors and actresses...
Wren, St Paul's, music, Purcell
I mean Purcell...
Ah, Squire Dryden...
All eyes you draw
and with the eyes the heart...
of your own pomp the greatest part
Loud shouts the nation's
happiness proclaim...
and Heaven this day
is feasted with your name
His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest...
his name a great example stands to show...
how strangely high endeavours
may be blessed...
where piety and valourjointly go
I hear tell they have dug up
Master Cromwell and his mother...
both looking as cheerful as any could
in that condition
The boy Purcell was took into
the Chapel Royal School in Westminster...
cleaning and repairing the organ
And sometimes, with his friend Pelham...
being less than helpful to his uncle Thomas,
the King's composer
Butch, the sights and sounds
and smells young Harry must have seen...
while learning his music
What'?
- Sir'?
Why?
- Sir'?
This'?
It's a piece
l1'
- II1:ll-".'
- \\
Ajllflilll-fllllljfl!
fill'?!
But what is it'? ls it... What is it'?
Blow, boy!
Well, it has a catch
It is not a catch!
No, it is not a catch
Do give it to the King.
He has such a plump bass
lPYlll-lhhllliihxj.
...t'will surely catch with him,
and I shall say it which it is...
which is why, in face of brought over...
I say brought over Frenchmen...
Which you do Master Locke!
Smelling as thou dost of popish
superstition, thou brat of Rome
Not one bit of it anywise
other than what it is
Which it is English... English!
I want none of your Vingt Quatres here!
L, Captain Henry Cooke, say it as Master
ofthe Children ofthe Royal Chapel...
you, Harry Purcell, are destined...
do you but stay obedient and compliant
and do betterwith yourviol...
and your fingering
I hate the viol!
Its use is to strengthen a part,
to support the voices
A chest of viols is essential in church
when the people cannot sing in tune
I would always have my people
sing in tune... and rest the voices...
and then use my violins
Fiddles! Too brisk!
What can a fiddle say alongside
a generous heroic viol...
except it should not come among them'?
Fingering... Fingering, Harry!
Fret and finger, orwe shall banish
cornets with voices now we have 'em...
to the Glory of God and the King and to...
I shall say it... to Prosperity!
This is a music factory
But make people feel, Master Purcell
Give them lessons in feeling.
Let 'em think afterwards
Now in some countries this might
be thought a dangerous approach...
But not in England, not today, dear heart
What?
Little danger of people
feeling too much
Not in England, not today...
encircled as we are with
a Cromwellian army of prigs...
knighthood-seekers
and grubby timeservers...
fat delayers of the law
Blackheads...
who merely shrug their shoulders...
while their money meters tick merrily away...
whose wealth is a licence for calumny...
whose cupidity passes for concern
To fly from love's sickness
is both foolish and vain
For I am myself
my own fever and pain
What are you talking about'?
I gave it all to her,
Mother bloody Hubbard...
when I left her, you know
So many children,
she didn't know what to do
Inn-quantum:
4n.
I'm not in the mood, not anymore.
You brought up money!
Well, if you don't get on
and write the bloody play...
this poor Nelly will definitely starve
If only it were as easy as that
Do you know, last night I had the same
dream I've been having all these years
I'm about to make my entrance on a stage
Behind the flats, the other actors
are performing a play I know nothing about
A play about the short life
and tragic death of Henry Purcell...
Composer in Ordinary to the violins
of King Charles ll
I play the King
- Of course
My entrance is important, that I know
I'm peering through cracks in the scenery,
trying to find out what is going on
Eventually I decide I must
have missed my entrance...
so I grab a door handle and push
Everything rattles... and suddenly
I'm in a world were I can't see anything
Even though I knowthe spotlight is on me
I don't know my moves or my first line...
but I make enormous efforts to speak,
to say... something
I open my mouth and drive all the strength
I can find into my diaphragm...
but I make no sound
Ilflhifillflj-
IIICI
I can feel the light... but I cannot see
Dreams won't pay the bloody rent!
Sod you!
Sod you!
How much'?
Eleven pounds, two shillings
and tenpence
The total in the Exchequer, your Majesty
And the national debt...
in excess ofthree million, your Majesty
I cannot pay them
Why they do it, I cannot think...
why they play on...
sing on... but they do
I cannot pay my sailors,
I cannot pay my guard...
but they are rogues, they pay themselves
“Qhl-hl-m-
Ilflj
filllllllQih§llll
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Bankers were a tribe grew up
in Cromwell's time
Never were heard of before
They are come to stay, I fear
Since when did you smoke a pipe, dear'?
Harold Wilson, is it'?
I've always smoked a pipe.
There's a kind of...
spirituality about a pipe,
rarely found in love...
but occasionally in friendship
You won't find anything on Purcell,
I've searched everywhere
I found that for you in the London Library
I mean, nothing - that's what makes him
an ideal subject for a play
Nobody knows anything about him,
except "Nymphs and Shepherds"
I could play a shepherd
and Nelly could play a nymph
No seriously, Charlie,
you can make it all up...
we'll get George to put it on
and we'll make you a star!
We could even get an Arts Council grant
- Means-test Man!
We can get Guy to play King James,
Vernon can do Spratt...
and Murray can play... thingy...
what's he called'? Salisbury
Shaftesbury, Bill, Shaftesbury
Another five years ensnared by middle-class
pietists... Thank you very much!
He's the only composer to be buried here
apart from John Blow, his teacher...
and, hallelujah! George Frederick
ls this... Vellington'?
Paid for by a lady
- What?
A lady... we don't know who.
There's even a mystery there
Who paid for the inscription next to
Purcelis grave'? Lady Howard, possibly
We know when he died; St Cecilia's Day -
the patron saint of music -
probably of tuberculosis,
possibly of chocolate poisoning
We don't know when
orwhere he was born...
whether his father
was actually his uncle...
uunlnnnl-'uu.
mun
One thing we are sure about is that
he owed everything to Charles ll
XIfiflfi-fllfi
-$I
Yes, you. You wouldn't
even be remembered.
Who remembers tarts unless they
get to screw somebody famous?
"No sleep as sweet as thine"
Isn't he pretty'? Aren't you pretty'?
Vot'? Vellington'?
Well, l'll do my best. Where shall we start'?
The music and the mirth of Kings
are out of tune
Do you know, she picked up this tourist
in Westminster Abbey!
What were you doing there?
You're not a Christian
Yes I am
- Church of England, are we'?
Do you know, Purcell wrote nearly a
thousand pieces of music in just 16 years -
only 15 ofthem actually signed
'Iljlllijlfil
II-
Everybody thought Charles ll
was Church of England, but he wasn't
Yes... I know all that
l know all that. We must fight the Dutch,
but who will pay for it'?
Where will the money come from'?
I do believe the Devil shits Dutchmen
Who'?
The judge who sentenced your father
to his death
Must l'? I am weary of hanging
Let it sleep
Who...
Majesty?
- ...is that'?
Your future Queen, sire.
From Braganza
She looks like... a bat
My dear...
Such pretty hands and...
feet'?
A dowry of half a million, Tangiers,
access to Brazil and the East Indies trade
Tea, coffee...
rubber, your Majesty
I shall have to contain myself
with my Lisbon Kate
I shall of course do my duty
Shall I not, my Lady Castlemaine'?
40,000 or so... or so...
Yes, let's say £40,000,
Master Kiffin, is the sum which...
were you to offer in loan would make us
so grateful it should advance ye...
Majesty, uttter honour, sire,
Death, I swear it!
But rather I would give ye this day...
give ye... £10,000, give ye!
And you shall, Master Kiffin...
for Love hath greater power
and less mercy than Fate
Joy! I am saved 30,000
Saved 30,000!
No matter the lack of money
The theatres were flung open,
news-sheets flung up...
poetry written, music heard
I had the occasional success myself
But it was the actresses
which took the King's eye
Most chief among these
was pretty, witty Nell...
with whom I had some dalliance myself
before Charles the King...
but that's another story
Oh, poet. Damned dull poet!
Who could prove so senseless
as to make Nelly die for love'?
Nay, what yet worse, to kill me
in the prime of Easter time...
in tart and cheesecake time!
And a mighty pretty soul she is!
Bloody freezing
Yes, my dear Barbara, you have every right
to ask me to support you
What do you want'?
Money, I suppose
Would be a help
Writing a play, I hear
Well, trying to, you know...
Writers dissemble, you know. Like you
They're not to be trusted. Like you
They look for intellectual respect
and approbation. Like you
They flatter, indulge, and offer false
and easy comfort. Like you
Once, our native language
was refined and free...
like the old liturgy ofthe Anglican Church,
or Pepys, Dryden, Purcell -
each of whom tried to find a vibrant language
in which it was possible only...
to tell the truth
That, I believe, is worthy
and worth our attention
It's for her, I suppose.
The starving Nelly'?
No, it's for me. It's about Purcell
Anything in it for me'?
- I wouldn't think so
It's about genius...
Welcome to Her Majesty's Royal Palace
and fortress, the Tower of London...
and in particular to the Wakefield Tower,
usually known as the Jewel Tower
Here you see in the first case
Her Majesty's Crown Jewels
Here, of course, is St Edward's crown...
used in the Coronation of all our Sovereigns
ever since 1661
when the Crown was made
specifically for King Charles ll
On the right of St Edward's crown,
of course, is the ampula and spoon
The ampula was filled with holy oil...
to anoint our Sovereign
during the Coronation service
The Crown weighs five pounds in gold...
and is encrusted
with over 400 precious stones -
diamonds, emeralds, sapphires,
rubies and what have you
What we'll take you to now is the Imperial
State Crown, which is much smaller
Come on, this way now
Iiijflllflfi-l-i
DQIIIIZ
Were these paid for'?
- No they were not
Cost me, his goldsmith,
32,000 - mine by rights
Oh, but he was merry
Sank ten fathoms deep
all Parliament's mumping
Pure gold
Sire, you'll stop on
and take the other bottle'?
Upon my soul I do declare...
he hath the best manner of singing
in the world!
Butch, the plague!
It came every year, and fearwith it
1665 was the worst - the hottest
summer in memory, my memory
And mine it is that shrinks from it,
from the numbers dead
Halfthe population of London... gone.
Cut down, like a flower
Even the dogs,
grisly outlaws of nature, killed
40,000 of them
The Dutch brought it, your Majesty,
they had it first!
It come ashore with the Dutch
and now we all dies, your Majesty!
Filllllflillllj
'Ii-
and so many sad stories as I walk
A dying city. All fled who can
Bring out your dead!
In London Fields in Hackney
they buried them
Harry's father among them - in a pit
They say the ravens are beating
at the doors ofthe dying
No boats upon the river
The grass is growing
all up and down Whitehall
None but wretches in the street
Spots... first... do generally appear
in the region ofthe heart and liver
Or the breast or...
- No, no, everywhere
Tokens big is half a crown...
sometimes red with blue within,
on hands, face, neck
Black they go, black from melancholy
Robbery and thievery,
the looting of plunder...
public hangings...
bonfires to purify the stinking air,
everywhere, everywhere...
So short a time...
Since I have so short a time to live...
a little ease to these my torments give
A land of confusion and endless night...
where horror reigns,
where darkness is might
Take up the filth from among us as
ye take our sins from us we do but plead...
and shit from us the plague of popery!
The best remedy, apart from tobacco...
is wash out the mouth with vinegar often...
and rosemary, sorrel, verjuice, marigolds...
all these stuff in the cracks and holes
ofthe body when abroad
All had from a physician before he
decamped to Gloucester, the coward
The king goes to see the wretched sick
and gives a thousand pounds...
Oh, bless him... even though...
Even though he will not pay for music
Even though he loves it
And then the fire destroyed halfthe city
Master Pepys, Master Pepys!
Hllfl-illfllllilllfllll,
hllilllll
I saw some smoke,
but went back to bed...
for the source being assuredly no more near
than the backside of Marke Lane
Our Lord Mayor neither, I am told,
saw cause for concern
His words: "A maid may piss it out"
Well Jane certainly could not!
There are some buckets being filled
but no fire squirts nor cistern engines
All simply remove themselves
Will it reach up here'?
Jaws clamped shut, singing boys!
Do not expose your throats to the heat!
Breathe not but through stuff!
Pull us away, boatman,
orwe'll burn up on the water!
Muffle boys, muffle!
Your cords are everything!
No sooner are we free of Cromwell
and can have boys sing again...
than the flames of his hell
lick up at us
Such a roaring was never seen
in the city before
Oh, do you see his Majesty?
Jamie, they must pull the houses down
before it. ls it not being done'?
Oh, they will not
They must do it or the fire will never
be stopped. Where is my Lord Mayor'?
Having his daughter piss on it'?
I have fought in his wars,
for his father's righteous cause!
The decree has gone out!
Repent or burn!
Squash another murderous Frenchman
as should never have been born alive!
See his black hands
where he has set light to London
ls the popish villain left his life yet'?
Enough! Enough!
- N0 pOpery, your Majesty!
I see nothing that pertains
to the man's religion
It will suffice that he is French
- Indeed it will, for him
Set to it like no ordinary men
or your city will burn itself to death!
Seize me that bucket.
Ted, toss it to me, man
My Lord Clarendon, these flames quicken
They will not thank him for it...
but blame him and the religion
he is secret supposed to hold!
What he do or not do, he has my loyalty...
in spite ofthe money he owes me
He has not paid his music in six years
which is why no man will bring his child in it
So it need be that the science itself
must die in this nation! Six years!
Six years since you went
to King's crowning!
God save the King!
God save the King!
I promised a liberty
to tender consciences...
and this shall be a cause and reason
for my six new colonies in the Americas
Maryland I name in memory
of my mother, Maria...
New York for my brother James,
Duke of York...
and the Carolinas and Charles Town for me
Why did you make me
go on that... march'?
You're always telling me that Charles ll
had to endure plots and demonstrations...
not to mention fire and plague...
so I thought you ought to see
what a real demo is like!
You're one ofthose militants that exploits
political crises for personal glory
You're both psychopathic
and self-righteous!
Ah, no! My book!
"My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land,
yet could l never come to understand...
that it was slighted or turned out of door
by any kingdom, were they rich or poor
In France and Flanders,
where men kill each other...
my Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother
'Tis in New England under such advance
receives there so much loving countenance...
as to be trimmed, new clothed
and decked with gems...
that it might show its features and its limbs"
Who is that'?
As Treasurer, you should know
...goldsmiths and bankers
of Lombard Street...
to whom your Majesty owes £1 ,300,000
That is a very great sum, my lord.
What might we do'?
Prorogue Parliament,
close the Exchequer...
all interest on payments stopped,
all interest due on loans refused
Splendid!
War, pestilence, fire, and now...
Damn me if we ain't ruined!
Was ever a city so afflicted
4,000 streets destroyed, 90 churches,
14,000 houses...
Architecture has its political uses, my lord...
“I-Qmllll-l-I
ulnuly
But the cost, your Majesty
What Master Wren has designed
will cost eight million! At least!
It establishes the Nation,
draws People and Commerce...
and makes men love their native country
So he built all ofthis...
- More or less
And why the boat'?
Oh, he and his brother used to love racing
up and down the Thames, just for a bet
He was a fantastic sailor, apparently
He called his boat "The Fubbs"
after the nickname of his mistress -
one of his mistresses,
the Duchess of Portsmouth
She was small and squat
and broad of beam... like you
Cheeky bugger!
How many did he have then'?
What?
- Women
Howwould I know?
- I don't know...
Thought you are looking him up,
writing a play or something
Stop it, keep your hands to yourself
if you're not going to be nice
He was accused of having 39
Even had up before a church court
to answer some pamphlet written about him
"The Poor Whore's Petition", it was called
Scurrilous
- It may be, but...
The temper of England may be indifferent
to religion, my Lord Bishop...
but I... lam not!
Is it true, Majesty?
Certainly, my Lord Bishop
One mistress for each Article of Faith
There are 39, are there not'?
Such is my devotion
to our Church of England
Weigh your anchors!
Time and tide admit no delay
l'll silence your mourning with vows of
returning and never intend to visit you more!
What are you going to do today'?
What Charles wanted and what
Purcell wrote about so gloriously...
was a country of tolerance,
irony, kindliness
Not like today, when the modesty of heroes
is dispatched with derision and contempt...
and thus thrown up a generation forwhom
"honour" is a forgotten, meaningless currency
May God rot the tyranny of equality...
streamlining, classlessness...
and above all, absurd,
irrelevant "correctness"
That's just a matter of opinion
and you know it!
Ah, opinions!
Do you knowthat opinion-making is this
country's most virulent growth industry
The market is insatiable
Newspapers, like television,
pour out opinions...
with a frenzy that marked the production
of Spitfires during the war
Phone-ins proliferate, choked with calls from
the semi-literate, the bigoted and the barmy
Opinion polls, the entrails of democracy,
are picked over for prophetic insights
We've become a nation
of babbling backseat cab-drivers
"What are you giving up for Lent?"
I was asked yesterday
"Opinions", I said. "Permanently!"
Ha bloody ha!
Well, to answer your earlier question,
I'm off to the British Library
Want to come'?
You could pick up...
an education!
The London Gazette, October 9th, 1701
"The score ofthe music for the Fairie Queen,
set by the late Mr Henry Purcell...
and belonging to the Theatre Royal
in Covent Garden in London...
being lost by his death...
Whoever brings the said score
to Mr Zachary Baggs...
treasurer of the said theatre,
shall have 2O guineas reward give him!
God, the actual score
Good for Mr Baggs! I hope he paid up
2O guineas for such
a priceless manuscript, eh'?
"The Fairie Queen,
first performed May 2nd, 1692"
Some of it in PurcelPs own hand...
so clear, so beautiful...
What's this'?
"We play loud or soft, according to our fancy,
or the mood ofthe music"
Blank pages!
"Here follows..." But what'?
What on earth did they do'?
"Let kindness be our guide..."
"The irony of love... The tolerance of hope"
"Still and soften the sound
as shades in needlework..."
Give an actor directions like that
and he'll do what he likes
Make it up as he goes along!
Ififlliillflllil
From hence you may...
From hence you may look back on Civil Rage
and viewthe ruins of a former age
Here a New World its glories may unfold...
and here be saved the remnants ofthe old
But while your days
on public thoughts are bent...
past ills to heal, and future to prevent...
some vacant hours allow to your delight...
mirth is the pleasing business
of the night
Hush, hush, no more
Be silent
Sweet repose has closed her eyes
Soft as feathered snow does fall
Softly, softly...
Softly
Hard by Pall Mall lives a wench called Nell...
King Charles the Second he kept her
She hath got a trick to handle his prick...
but never lays hands on his sceptre!
Where did you get that'?
Said at the time, sweetheart, a lot of
scurrilous poetry about at the time
And dirty ditties too -
Purcell wrote quite a few
Just imagine what
he must have seen growing up...
in that stew of "luxury and
inexpressible profaneness"
By the time he came of age...
young Harry was already
well established at the court
Organist at Westminster Abbey...
Composer in Ordinary
like his uncle before him...
Keeper of the Kings fiddles
Still with his boyhood friend, Pelham
Still a boy himself
I remember, I remember...
You Harry...
- I shall not!
If not you, then I must and I cannot
for I am just married myself...
and not an instant
would I spend away from it
Marriage... Oh do, Harry, what will you learn,
the King commands it!
L-low does he'?
- He commands me and I command you
It's French!
- It is
'I'llH§1IIKfll'KIl,
BID
But not this... "The Marriage of Bacchus"!
Does he hate his brother so much
he would give him this is a wedding gift'?
No, no, no. This rivalry... between
the King's Company and his brother's...
James? Well, he ne'er troubled his head
with too much thinking
If his brotherwants a French play,
then so must Charles
The cost of it!
London is not big enough
for two theatre companies, I tell you
Isn't she wonderful?
Wonderfully large, she certainly is
Isn't she French'?
Much the same as you were,
your first week back from Paris
In the King's service, Harry,
the Secret Service
I remember it well, the complete Monsieur
Monsieur Pefam Umfraise
ofthe Chapel Royal, full of Moliére...
I 'ave eeet - I will 'ave 'er, sir!
- Thought you might, Monsieur
I can't play it, Monsieur, I can't play this!
Too many notes... impossible!
And could he, it would be dreary
and incomprehensible
There may be some merit...
- None, I shall not!
All human things are subject to decay
So when Fate summons,
e'en a Monarch must obey
And yet, a setting sun describes
a track of glory in the skies
The King was grown old
Only his horses at Newmarket
seemed to please him
Did I tell you'? He founded
the great stables at Newmarket
Champion jockey he was,
with his brother, James
James, waiting, watching...
ullQillllilllii
iiliflfll-
so whistled as he went,
for want of thought
hlQHIIIilllllll
Iilii-
to be the heir, yet always made to wait
What Charles wanted was for
the Crown itself to be extraordinary...
Not like today...
when the monarchy isn't even the tarnished
gold fillings in a mouthful of decay
The rot set in, of course,
with Queen Victoria
That no-neck little widow who spent most
ofthe 6O glorious years of her reign...
skulking behind closed portcullis doors,
leading a life of ineffable dullness...
snapping at her huge family
and foreign relations
Her husband, quite understandably,
thought she was mad
The King still loved the ladies of course.
The latest being Mistress Louise...
the "Duchess" of Portsmouth
whom he had known for some time...
but who was French, Catholic -
and called "Fubbs"
Why'? I was never able to discover
Her son, the "Duke" of Richmond,
also founded a racecourse I'm told...
at Goodwood
Butch, a merry Monarch,
scandalous but poor...
restless he rolled about
from whore to whore
And he still loved his music,
though he did not pay for it
Young Harry was always with him -
and with him...
his new lady, Frances -
to provide a welcome ode or an anthem,
whatever was required
No matter that plot and counterplot...
the scourge of violence lurked everywhere,
t'other side of the hangings
Remember'? Returns it to the memory'?
The great pope-burning processions...
Does the memoryjog'?
Bread and carnivals...
Few took them seriously
The King knew men to a hair
and never let them forget it
Do you see them,
of his loins not one legitimate
He has peopled
the aristocracy of England!
The Queen is barren
He should rid himself of her
lf he will not, he must declare you
Duke of Monmouth and his heir
As first born, bastard or no,
you could be King, young man
The tragedy was that the King
had no children of his own
No legitimate children
His bastard son, Monmouth,
was always plotting against him
He loved his son,
but he was not his heir
He was not the Crown
Nature and Nature's Laws lay hid in night...
'til God said: "Let there be Newton"
And all was... light!
Yes, the honour is...
Overwhelming'?
- No, I am not overwhelmed
I am perfectly capable
of arranging the music...
for the announcement of the wedding
of your niece, the Princess Mary...
hfiflfliilll-IIXQ
Iii
and I am...
Overwhelmed'?
Your Majesty, may I humbly submit...
Ah, Squire Dryden
"lf love and honour now are higher raised,
'tis not the poet, but the age is praised
Wit's not arrived to a more high degree...
our native language more refined and free"
XIII, KI,
CUEI-IIQ Dhlfil-
take this man, William,
as your dearly beloved husband'?
And wilt thou, William Henry,
Prince of Orange...
take this woman, Mary,
as your dearly beloved wife'?
With this ring I thee wed,
with my body I thee worship...
and with all my worldly goods I thee endow
I now pronounce ye man and wife,
till death do ye part
Gather it up girl, it is all clear gain
Those whom God hath joined together,
let no man put asunder
You have to get used to my habits!
We may have to live together
for a long while!
Have you told the King'?
- Told the King'?
I don't talk to the King,
unless he talks to me, which...
on the matter of my marriage to Frances,
which we are determined shall...
We are determined
ulna
mining
I shall take the sacrament
Look...
She, you Frances, are Flanders
and Catholic
Harry here, now he is...
Well, he's not
Dryden is, certainly,
but now we are none of us of...
Ofthe old religion
- Dare not be
The King is... secretly
You must not say that.
That is not true
The nation would be rent were it so again
Up and down the land we would...
Oh, it would be awful, as it was
You may not remember
how we were at throats...
Englishmen at the throats
of other Englishmen
We will be married
We are married in love
Well... I shall not tell the King
Oh, do take care Master Purcell
From this blessed man,
music just seemed to flow
Motets, anthems, songs...
all manner of music
for all manner of occasions
There was no dam,
no stop to his golden flask
He was... unstoppable
What do it say'?
- Vivace
What do it mean'?
- Fast and brisk
Why don't you say so, young man'?
Ain't it French enough for you'?
What do I 'grave down here
Adagio, if you would take
the very great kindness, sir
'IIQIHQKIDIIIJ
- K
Oddsfish, do you mean to set that?
- Yes
Oh, how your brothers, Charlie and... Joe'?
Are they still travelling abroad
- They must, they promised the King...
"for he commandeth
and raiseth up the stormy wind...
which lifteth up the waves thereof,
and we near to drowned"
Very good!
You can set that...
as long as you promise to abandon
your detestable viols!
What, and achieve a fiddle?
Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry...
I will travel no more
I resolve that I shall
go abroad no more
It's unimaginable,
who would think it or plot it'?
Some would, some do
But then I am beset by plots,
am I not, my Lord Shaftesbury'?
When I die...
- God save your Majesty!
...l know not what my brother might do
I am much afraid that he may be obliged
to travel again, for his religion...
But I shall take care
to leave my kingdom at peace...
wishing that he may long keep it so
But these are all my fears,
little of my hopes and less of my reason
I tell you...
poets... that one...
my bastard, pretty Prince Perkin...
will be put on the throne
by the Protestants...
by the Whigs, under Shaftesbury -
the loudest bagpipe in the squeaky train
You must fight Shaftesbury for me,
you must fight popery too
I'm so weary
Do excuse me for taking
such a long time a-dying
Doomsday, my Lord Shaftesbury,
we shall see whose arse is blackest
Listen awhile and I'll tell you a tale...
of a little device
called the Protestant flail
This flail is made ofthe finest new wood...
for the splitting of brains
and the shedding of blood
With a thump-a-thump thump,
a thump-a-thump thump...
Come out, you papist whore!
Pray good people, be civil!
The King's whore I may be,
but I'm his Protestant whore!
Among the Loyalist people,
I am your spokesman...
and by the grace of God
nobody will silence me
l, Titus Oates, tell you Lords,
there is a popish plot in the land...
for the destruction
of his Majesty King Charles...
and that man, he, Lord Stafford,
he took from me a commission...
that I was give by Jesuits...
that he should act as Paymaster General
of the Pope's army...
to ravage this land!
...like the prigs and bullies who would now
would have dominion over our daily lives
All ofthis will have to go, you know
No one will put up with all this violence,
not on the telly anyway
No one will put up the money
to make the thing
Violence'?
What about the violence
of threatened profit?
The great English bourgeoisie...
who claim to believe in the virtue
of "leaving things alone"...
but whose objectives narrow down to a
painful sore of human undernourishment'?
Those are the people,
the "disgusted of Tunbridge Wells"...
who are, in reality,
possessed of the real violence...
the greedy desire
to order the lives of all...
especially those who speak out of turn...
the sexually immoral - they think -
like King Charles...
or those who simply
blaze forth their youth...
like Purcell, Newton, Wren,
the whole lot of 'em
Then is the voice of Jeremiah heard
loud and clear in the land...
or at least in the columns
of the Daily Telegraph!
You're just a bloody socialist!
- Socialist? Ha!
To be a socialist today, my dear old Bill...
is like being in the priesthood
in a world without God...
still trying to remember
the Order of Service...
prattling ceaselessly
about the "classless society"...
to a middle class it dare not defy
And what are you doing'?
Trying to tune into God'?
No, the Overseas Service.
We've got a play on, remember?
This is London...
Well, at least the BBC
hasn't forgotten the Empire!
Oh, no. I'm dogged by that bloody tune
They've whistled it, sung it, jeered it
up and down the length ofthe land
Blood will flow from it, l'll warrant,
before we have our quietude again
It's become an incitement,
never an accompaniment...
I can't hold myself responsible
It is believed the man Oates lies
It's not believed
there was any plot at all
I shall use it as a ground
since that requires so littlejudgment
And you would set "Richard ll",
the tale of a usurper
l have renamed it "The Sicilian Usurper".
None shall know
Bejudge yourself, I'll bring it to the test
Which is the basest creature,
man or beast?
Birds feed on birds,
beasts on each other prey...
but savage Man alone does Man betray
The winter which came in 1684
was savage
The Thames froze over
The King became gravely ill
We were all afraid
I'm going blind
I shall write no more
I've written none of my diary for years
This stinking city, very little food neither
Because of the ice...
They've arrested that pygmy,
Shaftesbury, you know
A glittering worm in excrement
I am going blind, you know...
Did you never hear the tale
ofthe starving soldier...
who was fighting in the Holy Crusade'?
He was told by his officer
that if he died in battle...
he would dine in Paradise
with the blessed Jesus
Well, the soldier ran away,
he didn't want to fight
And when he returned after the battle...
the officer asked him why he had run away
"Did you not want to dine with Christ?"
he asked
And the soldier replied,
"No, I'm fasting today...
fretting my pygmy body to decay"
Which body... they strung up
It's my blindness, you know
We smelled death in the air
Harry's firstborn... died
IIll-uihpl-ll'.
lilfli
Young Harry worked on, worked on...
Asked to judge which was the best
organ in the land! I ask you!
Oh, what an absurdity at times
does possess us... I ask you!
A most unwarrantable act of hostility!
Since there is only one organ may be played,
perhaps we should play it
The King is dead! Dead!
A Prince of so many virtues...
Gracious on... so many occasions
Oh, hide me, Frances. Hide me
Hide me from the light of day
And with the new King
marched General Disorder
The theatre in confusion -
riots, hangings...
The stink of revolution
once again in the air
Fear stalked the land
in dread of what we thought might come
Men set their door
against the setting sun
"ifllllq!
-$I
Ever'?
- What about'?
You know...
they're arresting those who did...
We have a Catholic King on the throne
- Yes, but will he pay his debts?
They say the Queen's Benedictines
are costing 1,500 a year
I fear this may well be the end
of my church music
I fear it may
Why sleeps the viol and the lute'?
Why hangs untuned the idle lyre'?
They are come for us!
- No, no, there's no need to be afraid
Henry Purcell, Composer in Ordinary
to the King's Music'?
I'm still that'?
Clerk ofthe Cheque Extraordinary
to His Majesty King James...
Colonel Wharton at your service, sir
I shall want a receipt, sir
Monies for repairing the King's instruments
before his Coronation
What is it'?
From the King - out of
the Secret Service money -
34 pounds and 12 shillings...
for erecting an organ!
But life continued, it always does
l'_"_~h_'
i_ n
And while others fluttered in the wind...
he stood shoulder to shoulderwith those
he loved and with those who loved him
Tell me, you Gods...
why do vain men pursue with endless toil
each object that is new...
and cast aside that
which they know is true'?
Paid for erecting an organ!
What art thou, what art thou'? Confess!
Giovanni Draghi. At your service, sir
Too many Italians at Court!
There's nothing wrong with being Italian.
Italians are now in favour at Court
I'm very proud to be Italian
And I'm very proud to admit ajust imitation
of your Italian Masters...
who do bring seriousness and gravity
into vogue, nay reputation...
against the levity and balladry
of our neighbours, the French!
None may sing as low as my gosling
He called me his gosling
Oh do fill up my bowl...
'IIILHQIIIIIIIIQ
I11-
For God' s sake, sing us a catch...
We must play
- What?
Blind man's buff!
The 107th Psalm. I set it
Too late. The King, dead, will never hear it
l shall lower it into his grave
Oh, God, I'm drunk!
He was a great King, would set us all...
England too... all... all up
Well, now we have another
His brother
England declined.
King James was Catholic
But then, so too was I
Debts piled, bankers grew fat
Bankruptcy flourished
Poverty and death
dropped on us everywhere
"windy. lnlnuuunn
and!
Yodrejealous, that's all!
- Of yourwork'? Come on!
Jealousy, that poisons passion...
- And despair that dies for love
Yes, I have read the beginning
of your rotten little play, you know
Rotten? Little?
Do you know what this country
has become'?
Once we had a church built upon a rock
Nowthe rock has been bulldozed
and with it our faith
What we're left with
is a crawling underside...
of expediency and dishonour,
beholden to Brussels...
wherein the crooked shall be made straight
and the rough places plain
England, my England, is shuffling about
like an old tramp...
begging for a pair of boots
at the tradesman's entrance of Europe
Europe is the future and you know it!
"Europe" is an adroit piece
of brand-name dropping...
which will turn democracy into a hoax -
a Masonic Lodge of Commerce with a
squalid membership of political mercenaries
The English conscience,
for so many years out for hire or rent...
is now up for outright purchase
The "Common Market"...
is about as drab a name
for such a monumental swindle...
since some bright little German ad-man...
thought of putting wholesale murder
onto the market as National Socialism
And then, another miracle...
Without a blow, James was gone...
prised out by the old aristocracy
which was Protestant...
and would not tolerate him any more...
and went to his daughter, Mary,
and her husband, William of Orange...
who landed at Torbay,
to general acclaim assured
See the flags and streamers curling...
anchors weighing, sails unfurling!
Where is the Queen?
Oh, do hurry up!
It seemed a new
and glorious age had arrived
And for young Harry'?
You are to receive all your monies,
Master Purcell
I am honoured, Majesty
There is great want among the music
There is great want in the Nation,
Master Purcell
For peace and prosperity, Majesty,
there is a great yearning
There is a great yearning, Master Purcell,
for martial music
Oboes and trumpets, Master Purcell
William... will want you
to write martial themes...
such as "Sound the Trumpet",
"Beat the Drums"...
written, I believe, for my father
the late King, James that is...
so lately fled these shores
Oh, you have but to command, Majesty
Oh, but I do command, Master Purcell
I command you to celebrate this...
triumphant day, Master Purcell
These sums of money, Mr Purcell...
taken for admission to the organ loft
for a better sight of the Coronation...
are the right ofthe Abbey
so to accrue, sirrah!
Sirrah me not, Doctor Sprat!
You may be Dean ofthe Abbey
but I am in considerable station myself
You are a minder ofthe instruments, sir
and have no right to collect any monies.
11131111.
-1lil
I am Composer in Ordinary! Organist,
Copyist, and person of considerable worth
A musician born to the Chapel Royal
like my father and uncle also...
my life lived here,
my work for this place
You will pay back every penny, sirrah!
I shall not
It is my perquisite as it has been
the perquisite of every organist...
You shall give all the money
to Mr Needham, sir...
or in default you will lose your place,
Master Purcell!
Beware, Saul to Endor comes...
lam being dunned
I am pursued for debt...
damned for my religion!
They say I must pay back the money
I had for letting places in the organ loft
It's always been done. I have the right
I shall not
Though my debts be such
that I shall lose my house
Many do boom and bust, these times...
Nothing at the Court. Not any more
The stage is the thing - for both of us
I knewthat when I saw"Dioclesian"
I said, here is an Englishman
equal to anyone abroad!
Did I not'?
And here I have something...
None need know
"King Arthur",
originally written for King Charles
Too many words, too little action
n~_u*'l'lluhlu-
Illih '
I always thought we should have done that.
Lancelot and Guinevere...
and Merlin - great part for you!
Words are free, Bill.
Conscience is cheaper
It will not serve!
My brother Edward serves -
in TyrconnePs Regiment in Ireland
It has within it subversion and religion...
and mention ofthe King's defeat at Mons,
which is not politic nor is it true
Nor may you say he has a mistress!
- I say none ofthis, I simply set it
It is a work for the theatre... an opera!
Opera is a danger you will do best to avoid!
"King Arthur"... an opera,
written by Mr Dryden...
was excellently adorned
with scenes and machines...
with dances made by Mr Josias Priest,
at a total cost of a mere £3000!
The musical part set by
the famous Mr Purcell...
whose yearly salary was £1 O0...
with Lady Mary Tudor
most excellently undressed as Cupid!
The play and music
pleased the Court and City...
and being well performed,
it was very gainful to the company
It was awful, wife
It was not heard for machinery,
sliding shutters...
roar of cannon, blast of trumpets
and flights of... parrots!
Betterton wants to do "The Fairie Queen".
From Shakespeare.
With text by that oaf, Sedley...
the father ofthe late King's mistress,
Mistress Catherine
What of the Queen'?
What of the Queen'?
She clasped her hands...
and smiled at me with such...
such consideration
Did she though'?
And then she died
- Who'?
The Queen. Mary. Almost overnight
Taken sick and died within a week
A statistical survey ofthe health
ofthe late 17th century...
reveals that from every hundred births...
only one in three
lived beyond the age of six
Queen Anne had 18 children. All died
He cometh up,
and is cut down like a flower
Only one in 1O lived until they were 7O
The most common disease was rickets,
resulting in deformed limbs and scrofula...
while spotted fever, pleurisy, pneumonia
and above all, smallpox...
killed two out of every five ofthe population
The first symptoms of smallpox
are shivering...
followed by red spots on the skin,
a rapid rise in temperature...
vomiting, headaches, intolerance to light,
a swollen tongue...
haemorrhage of the skin,
a tearing pain...
and death
Regular bleeding, by cutting
into the patienfs veins...
is thought to alleviate the suffering,
although only temporarily
Suffer us not at our last hour
from any pains of death to fall from Thee...
I fear I am becoming old...
and infirmities come with age
Where is my husband'?
- Returning from Ireland, your Majesty
I long for rest and peace
A lion has died, you know
At Christmas
A lion died when Charles...
the King...
Remember me...
and may my wrongs
create no trouble in thy breast
No trouble in thy breast
She was only 32
He fleeth as it were a shadow
Thou knowest, Lord,
the secrets of our hearts
Shut not Thy merciful ears
unto our prayers...
but spare us, Lord most holy,
O God most mighty...
Her death broke young Harry.
At least, that is my view
He tried his best to revive his "Dido",
not one of mine, but some say his best
But he had no money, you see,
so he had to play Belinda himself
What irony that was
My girls, Master Purcell!
My girls, my nymphs, my shepherds!
What can be done, Master Purcell?
Cut them out, Mr Priest!
Belinda, the loyal servant
of a Queen, who dies for love
I told you, when we first did this,
some four years back...
although we did it in private,
as we do now... cut them out!
They are a mediocrity!
The King would cut everything out,
especially his musicians!
Ever gentle, ever smiling...
and the cares of life beguiling, Mr Priest.
Begumng!
Beguiling!
Our world was disintegrating
We moved as in a dream,
shadows without substance
Thus did our life become.
'Tis all a cheat
Yet, fooled with hope,
men favour the deceit
Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay
Tomorrow is falser than the former day
So when the last and dreadful hour...
this crumbling pageant shall devour...
shall the trumpet still be heard on high'?
No! The dead shall live, the living die...
while music shall untune the sky
No government has ever been
or ever can be...
wherein Timeservers and Blackheads
will not be uppermost
The persons only are changed
The samejuggling in the State,
the same hypocrisy in Religion
The same self-interest
and mismanagement will...
remain... for ever
Suffer us not at our last hour...
from any pains of death to fall from Thee
Harry was inconsolable
His heart screamed for peace,
ifthat is what it was...
and he sought it in a hospital
called Bethlehem...
among the mad of Bedlam
These poor souls, he told me,
had seen the light
What light?
Had they seen those shadows
which we could not see, could only feel
Thou knowest, Lord,
the secrets of our heart
Shut not thy merciful eyes
from our prayers...
but spare us Lord most Holy,
God most mighty
England, my England!
Do you know what this country has become'?
And old tramp shuffling around...
begging for a pair of boots
at the tradesman's entrance of Europe!
Oh, but I do command, Master Purcell
I command you to celebrate
this triumphant day!
Master Purcell...
When we first did this,
although we did it in private as we do now...
I told you then, cut them out!
They are a mediocrity!
Still... mediocrity is a great comforter
You'll see
I will become a grand object
of public unconcern
My Dido'? Not even performed.
At least not in public
Since "Dioclesian", some 5O works
for the stage in only four years
And the result?
Penury. Begging for enough to...
Tell me, is this ugly, cheerless world
in which we live...
supposed to be typical'?
Is this all'?
Well, at least you never assembled
a lot of sloppy fads...
and served them up as innovations
I mourned the unknown,
the loss of what went before...
the deprivation of what, even as a child,
seemed irrevocably my own...
my birthplace... my country...
1111i,
Ilflflflfflil
Have I looked for answers
where there are none'?
Everyone demands answers,
like happiness, as a right
How hopeless! How... ironic
Ah, irony!
That English virtue
that purifies our rowdy passion
No. Hope comes from within, my friend
When hope goes, we freeze
Hope falters, but never fawns or crowds,
never stands in line
Even in dread and noise it strains
for coherence, for a snatch of harmony
An old trumpet,
played upon but not playing -
sounding, but only in my head
Alas...
coherence conceals as much
as it reveals to the lost, like me...
who contemplate the wreckage
Frances!
Let me in!
L lived among the hills footmarked here...
rooted here, in ancient English time
Frances, will the King
ever pay our debts'?
Two hundred, isn't it'?
At 2O pence a day, it's little wonder...
"'Tis women make us love,
'tis loving makes us sad...
'tis sadness makes us drunk,
and drinking makes us mad"
ls it not St Cecilia's Day tomorrow?
L shall write a Comical History...
of Don Quixote
Pray for me
He was a Colossus, the boy
It flew up from him
Notes, everything -
they'll not find the half of it
Did he not give to the Englishman
his glorious, unquenchable music?
There'll be none like him
"Remember me"
It's gone up. The notice
Ah, when'?
This is the last week
Good. I'm very tired of it. You'?
And I've got a coffee commercial
Did you get that film'?
"...and forget my fate"
Still, never mind,
there's always your play
That's if you ever finish it, though
There's always the telly...
gunman
“flit!
Only from established authors, I'm told