Stage Beauty Page #5

You shall know

the other end of it now, bum-boy!

Here is the whore of the Moor of Venice.

- Where's your frock, my girl?

You mistake me, gentlemen!

- No mistake!

- 'Tis he. The slut himself.

- Just as we have been foretold!

Hit him again!

I have in hand an edict.

I wish it passed, put down in law,

and circulated throughout

the affected areas posthaste.

A Royal licensing law,

which states, in binding language,

as does follow:

Whereas the women's parts in plays

have hitherto been acted by men

in the habits of women,

at which some have taken offence,

we do permit and give leave,

for the time to come,

that all women's parts

be acted by women.

No He shall e'er again...

...upon an English stage

play she

Mrs Hughes, though it be true

that talent is as talent does,

whilst beauty fades

like starlight at the break of day,

surely you recognise the fact

that you are, without doubt,

the most beautiful woman

on the English stage.

I am an actress, not a beauty.

Be that as it may,

if I am to paint your beauty, Mrs Hughes,

I must paint it with tit exposed.

How else prove to the theatregoers

of London that you are a real woman?

Want to be taken as a serious actress

My dear, before you can be taken seriously,

you must put bums on seats.

All right, paint!

And thus is flesh made art.

Kynaston

I see your wounds are on the mend.

Yes, I was fallen upon

by a gang of critics.

When will you be

back on stage, Mr K? Soon, I hope.

- As soon as they'll let me.

- Physicians, eh?

- What role will mark your return?

- What else but Desdemona?

What do you want here, Kynaston?

I want my pillow.

It seems to be lost. I was wondering

if Mrs Hughes might know where it is.

This is intolerable!

Sir Charles, gentlemen, could you leave

Mr Kynaston and me for a moment?

Certainly.

You know, Mr K, the performance

of yours I always liked best?

As much as I adored

your Desdemona and your Juliet,

I always loved best the "britches" parts.

Rosalind, for instance.

And not just because of the woman stuff,

but also because of the man sections.

Your performance of the man stuff

seemed so right, so... true.

I suppose I felt

it was the most real in the play.

You know why the man stuff seemed so real?

Because I'm pretending.

You see a man through the mirror

of a woman through the mirror of a man.

You take one reflecting glass away,

it doesn't work.

The man only works because you see

him in contrast to the woman he is.

If you saw him

without the her he lives inside,

he wouldn't seem a man at all.

Yes, you've obviously thought

longer on this question than I.

I heard about your...

Yes, yes, I imagined you heard.

I imagined you might have

more than heard.

Perhaps you even heard

before it happened.

I do not have your pillow.

Well, you could have said that

in front of them.

I have taken nothing

that belonged to you!

You wear my clothes, play my parts,

live my life and you've taken nothing?

Woman's perspective.

But at least a recognisable one.

That pillow was my own.

It was given to me some time back, as you know.

Yes, a dresser always knows

a gentleman's secrets.

Of course, I have my own dresser now.

He's a man. He used to be an actor.

I don't suppose you'd guess wnat type?

You know, madam, I am amazed

you have need of an audience!

With such self-regard as you display,

what room is left for the public's love?

What do you know of love, sir?

Or loyalty?

Or adoration suffered

in deepest silence?

The only love you know, sir,

is what you act on stage.

The difference between man and man...

Wilt thou be gone...

It was the nightingale and not the lark,

That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear...

Oh, look, it's Kynaston!

O, you are men of stone.

O, you are men of stone.

Lear.

How did you guess?

Cordelia. You're practising the carry.

Light?

Lighter than you.

That work in performance?

In performance, I carry a real woman.

A former seamstress from Sheffield

twice my size.

So, what do you want?

Er, I want another go at the death scene.

Can't. The Crown

would close me down if I did.

- Tommy...

- You cost me the Palace's support.

You refused to act with women

on the day the King's mistress,

a mistress desirous of a career on stage,

was watching.

Besides, the company's full up.

You weren't the only actor

cut loose by the law.

The town's full of your sort now.

Mr Betterton.

Time to see the Gonerils.

Happy days

Tommy, is she...?

Is she good?

The Hughes?

As an actress?

She's a star.

She did what she did first.

You did what you did last.

Good God.

- You'll poach in that.

- Would Your Grace like me to disrobe?

Quiet. This isn't the place.

I thought you hated heat and steam.

I'm purifying myself.

Why didn't you come to my rooms

when you heard I'd been attacked?

I knew you wouldn't want me

to see what they'd done to you.

Why didn't you write?

Ned, I've never been a word type

Letters are dangerous.

They live on

long after their passions have died.

They're dangerous only if they're secret.

I'd call us a secret, wouldn't you?

There were beginning to be whispers.

Those things you said at the Palace.

I warned you, Ned.

What shall I do to win my lord again?

Don't.

I'm getting married.

Jane Bellamy. You met her, I believe?

It's this Saturday. The King's coming.

Dryden's composed a sonnet.

Jane's quite a charming thing, really.

Pretty, rich.

Surprisingly literate.

And a woman.

What's she like in bed?

What's she like...

to kiss?

Does she wear a golden flow

as you die in her? Or don't you know?

I don't want you!

Not as you are now

I...

When I did spend time with you,

I... always thought of you as a woman.

When we were in bed,

it was always in a bed on stage.

I'd think, "Here I am, in a play...

...inside Desdemona. "

Cleopatra, poor Ophelia...

You're none of them now.

I don't know who you are.

I doubt you do.

Kind sir, would point thy dagger

at this comely thicket, my lady...

Kind sir, would point thy dagger

at this comely thicket, my lady...

Madam, beg your pardon,

I'm looking for Miss Nell Gwynn.

You won't find her here.

She's in the wings about to make her entrance.

- Kind sir, would point thy dagger...

- Sir?

Do forgive. We're about to perform

one of our Palace musicales.

Sir, the guests?

- You look familiar.

- Sir, I am Edward Kynaston.

Kynaston! How in hell did you get in here?

A former fellow actor is your undercook

and has long been dear a friend to me.

Then we'll have to execute him.

Joke, joke.

Calm down, Kynaston.

What do you want with Nell, anyway?

Nell doesn't like you very much.

When she came to Mr Betterton's theatre,

my bile was aimed at another.

- I did not even see Miss Gwynn.

- I'm sure you can straighten it out.

But it's just not important to me.

It is to me!

Charlie, what's holding things up?

Say what you want.

I want to act.

Then act.

I want to act as I did before.

- The girls' parts?

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