The Libertine Page #8

lt is a listless trickle of Why should l's.

You're on .

MOLLY:
Five minutes only, Mrs Barry.

lnever wanted you for a mistress, Lizzie.

l wanted you for my wife.

You have no understanding, do you?

lt was not being your mistress

that l was tired of, John .

l was tired of you .

l did not wish to be your wife.

l do not wish to be anyone's wife.

l wish to continue being the creature l am.

London walks into this theatre to see me.

Not George's play, nor Mr Betterton .

They want me,

and they want me over and over again .

l will not swap my certain glory

for your undependable love.

l wanted you to have my child.

l had your child.

A daughter.

When the theatres were closed in the summer.

By the start of the season l was flat enough

to play Desdemona in a nightgown .

MOLLY:
Two minutes, Mrs Barry, please.

What is her name?

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth?

The child of our passion .

When l bred my other children ,

l placed no value on human life at all, and...

...now you send me away.

And l cannot go back to where l was before.

l shall never forgive you

for teaching me to love life.

lf l taught you that, then our account is settled.

Your lesson to me was my livelihood.

And mine to you was life itself.

We have no need to meet again .

Lizzie.

lf you are in London ,

and you have half a crown in your pocket,

you may see me there.

For the rest,

l hope l shall always be in your heart,

sometimes in your thoughts,

but never in your debt.

l am 33...

..years old.

l am dying.

l have tried to speak the truth.

But l have been betrayed.

Elizabeth...

..speak to me of abduction .

I was 18.

And worth two and a half thousand a year.

You ambushed me,

bundled me into your coach

and rattled me away.

The King thrust...

lf underneath death's cold wing

His restless soul should fly

He charmed the tenderest virgins with delight.

And with his style did fiercest blockheads fright.

Beyond the grasp of fools

T'would meet with the bliss they deny

So stand for him

Kneel for him

As he lies low in kneaded clay

Pray for him who prayed too late

That he might shine on Judgement Day

So, there he lies at the last.

The deathbed convert.

The pious debauchee.

Could not dance half a measure, could l?

Give me wine, l'd drain the dregs

and toss the empty bottle at the world.

Show me our Lord Jesus in agony,

and l mount the cross

and steal his nails for my own palms.

There l go, shuffling from the world,

my dribble fresh upon a Bible.

l look upon a pinhead...

and l see angels dancing.

Well?

Do you like me now?

Do you like me now?

Do you like me now?

Do you like me...

now?

Christe Eleison

O Domine Deus

Dona nobis pacem

O Domine Deus

Dona nobis pacem

O Domine Deus

Dona nobis pacem

O Domine Deus

Dona nobis pacem

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