Charles III (Part 1)
Here is an excerpt from one of Shakespeare’s plays that has never seen the light of day. With chilling accuracy, he foretells the ascension of Charles III to the throne.
Enter Chorus (Paparazzi).
CHORUS
Impart all about it!
Impart all about it!
Headlines for deadlines
Park thy lumbar in the lumber
For we have a tale to tell
A speech to make
And a profit to pocket
To set the scene and rally thy minds
It is our honoured duty to fulfil
We venture to a time of turmoil and tragedy
Of disarray and disorder
Of tangle and tumult
Of...
Enter Baron Rupert De Murdoch.
BARON
Give it here!
They look dumbfounded.
BARON
Hand it over!
Come on!
One of the chorus hands over a large book.
BARON
Last time I lend you twits my bloody thesaurus!
Baron exits.
CHORUS
Our master, the Baron Rupert de Murdoch,
A man of power amongst powerful men
A strength to throttle the weakened land
By a congenial pat upon the troubled royal brow
Of kings and queens
Of noble men with noble intentions
And noble women with noble discensions
To Merry England with no beam upon her countenance
For the future king be wed to a commoner
A proletarian
A peasant
A plebeian
A tutor
A simple girl not of simple mind
But wait, gentle listener,
For we epilogue before we prologue
And the prince does approacheth
Enter Chuck (soon to be Charles III).
CHUCK
A king with no power
A bamix with no attachments
To sleep perchance to goon
To Bluebottle
To cry out when no one is listening
My lot is not a complaisant one
My princess shall ne’re be queen
My love shall ne’re be mine
For my love is not my betrothed
And my betrothed is not my love
Shall I sit high upon my balsa throne
Or stand aside as spectator to my own spectacle
Love means never having to say thou art savvy
Oh to die, to die, to Diana
BARON
My Lord, a word in thy ear
CHUCK
Say that it were only one word, Baron Rupert,
And that I had but one ear to spare
I would listen with one ear and cry with the other
BARON
A crying ear, my lord?
CHUCK
Listen and hear it weep
BARON
Streuth, sire,
Perhaps the sores have discharged
I will fetch the physician
CHUCK
Nay, Baron Rupert, my sorrow is not of the body
There is no prescription that can be filled
It is of the heart
I fear it will no longer draft blood to my head
To give life to my thoughts and birth to the sense to ask forgiveness
Yet I know my pleas will fall on intractable ears
BARON
Again with the ears
(He shouts)
BARON
I have need of an audience for matters of the highest secrecy!
CHUCK
I fear it will no longer be secret
With thy decibels pealing more obstreperous than Large Ben
BARON
Big Ben
CHUCK
The world thinks nominal and I am left to make it grow
Matt Quartermaine is a Melbourne-based writer and comedian. With Matt Parkinson, Tim Smith and Andrew Goodone, he produces ‘The Chat’, a weekly podcast in which ‘four grown men in comfortable chairs spill their guts’. Click here to download it for free at iTunes.
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