Theatre of Blood Page #4

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- Quite insane.

- He must be drunk.

But you,

with your overweening malice,

give the award

to a twitching, mumbling boy

who can barely grunt his way through

an incomprehensible performance.

No, no.

It is mine!

Father.

Father, please come away.

You mustnt do this.

Youre only helping them

to hurt you more.

Edwina...

Oh, my God!

What have I done?

Father.

My God, weve got the entire family!

Look at him. Really!

To be, or not to be:

that is the question.

Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows

of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them?

To die:
to sleep;

No more.

And, by a sleep to say

we end the heartache

and the thousand natural shocks

that flesh is heir to.

Tis a consummation

devoutly to be wishd.

To die,

To sleep;

To sleep:

perchance to dream:

Ay, theres the rub;

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

Must give us pause.

Butchers!

Theres the respect

that makes calamity of...

so long life!

Its all our faults. We took advantage

of the occasion to humiliate him.

Yes, well, thats very moving, Mr Devlin -

thank you, miss - but just one question:

how does a dead man

commit three murders?

Obviously hes not dead, lnspector.

All right. Accepting your theory...

Sergeant, whats the next play on the list?

The Merchant of Venice.

- Whats the murder in that, then?

- There is no murder in that.

Excuse me, lnspector.

This just arrived for Mr Devlin.

lm sorry to have missed the meeting,

but my heart is with you. Dickman.

Open that.

Ugh!

Horrible!

You said there was no murder

in The Merchant of Venice.

The pound of flesh

Antonio owed to Shylock.

Its Lionheart all right.

Only he would have the temerity

to rewrite Shakespeare.

Ah, splendid. Thank you so much, Officer.

Excuse me, sir.

How long will this wine tasting take?

Oh, well, ld say within the hour.

- Ill be waiting for you right here, sir.

- Thank you so much, Officer.

- May I see your invitation?

- Oh, yes.

Ah, yes, Mr Larding.

Were honoured. This way, please.

- Thank you.

- I suggest you try a sip of wine.

(Lionheart)

Now is the winter of our discontent.

Made glorious summer

by this sun of York;

And all the clouds

that lourd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound

with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms

hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums

changed to merry meetings.

He capers nimbly in a ladys chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

Well, now, Larding.

(hippy) Ladies and gentlemen,

if you will follow me now.

This way to the wine cellar.

How do you do? Hello.

So my performance of Richard the Third

cast such a spell upon the audience

that it put this reviewer into a

deep sleep from which he awoke much

refreshed and relieved by the knowledge

that he had been spared the ordeal

of attending to the ageing matine idols

ranting and posturing.

Well, we shall see if we cannot stir you

to more rapt attention

with todays performance.

(door opens)

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:

here Clarence comes.

As I am subtle, false and treacherous,

This day should Clarence

be closely mewd up.

But soft.

Here come my executioners.

I believe you have a passion

for our Chteau Margaux 59.

Oh, rather!

Mm! Oh, yes.

Thats absolutely my favourite Mdoc.

Oh, rather.

Mm. Oh, yes, its a fine,

robust conditioned wine, yes.

Sirs!

Be sudden in the execution.

Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;

For Larding is well-spoken,

And perhaps may move your hearts

to pity if you mark him.

Hello, hello? Whats all this, eh?

This is supposed to be wine tasting.

(all laugh drunkenly)

(gasps) Lionheart.

- Impossible!

- No!

No, Larding. Not impossible.

It is I - Lionheart.

You disgusting winebibber.

So this reviewer slept through

my Richard, did he?

Because you had guzzled so much wine

beforehand you slept like a drunken hog

through one of my finest performances!

But you will recall that

the Duke of Clarence,

and I would like you to try out

for that part, Larding,

was drowned in a butt of wine.

Look behind you, my lord.

Oh, no, no, please, please. Oh, please...

No, no! No, dont! No, please dont!

Argh!

(gasps and screams)

Excellent, Larding. Excellent.

I shall make an actor of you yet.

Argh!

I thought you might enjoy

that Chambertin 64, Larding.

Its a vintage that comes on very well.

And, uh, dont hesitate to complain

if it isnt sufficiently chambr.

I wonder if hell travel well.

Good. That seems to work OK.

Now, dont move your head too much.

Im busy, Devlin.

Edwina, four of my colleagues

have been murdered.

Their deaths relate directly

to your fathers last repertory season.

If you were as imaginative in your

reviews, Devlin, youd be a better critic.

Before another murder is committed...

My father was incapable of harming

anyone, let alone killing four people.

Five, Miss Lionheart.

Better make that five.

Lardings just been found dead.

He was drowned.

It seems his lungs

were filled with Chambertin 1964.

Oh, my God. Richard the Third.

Clarence drowned in a butt of malmsey.

Miss Lionheart, will you accompany us

to the police station to make a statement?

Sergeant.

Its not her, lnspector. Its her father.

Look, when two people have the same

motives for murder and one is still alive,

who would you arrest?

Just go about your normal life

and leave the rest to us.

Hello, there. Where is everybody?

(man with German accent)

De Toqueville had a death in the family.

Oh.

Well, since you have no worthy opponent,

perhaps you would be good enough

to have a bout or two with me, huh?

Id be delighted.

I fence twice a week,

but lve never seen you before.

No, this is my first visit.

Im afraid lm not very good.

No, I have been very ill.

I had a serious accident.

- I broke a few limbs.

- Im sorry to hear that.

No. Everything is all right now.

(chuckles) Ja.

Im splendid.

En garde!

Just a minute.

Your sabre. Theres no button.

Oh, so you noticed that, eh?

Well, then.

There. Now you do not have one either.

You see!

- Lionheart!

- Alive and triumphant.

And you thought me slain.

Lionheart is immortal.

He can never be destroyed.

Never! Never!

Up! Up!

I thought you were alive, but how?

I mean, how did you survive?

Theres no longer any reason

why you shouldnt be told what happened.

(shouts)

(all scream and shout excitedly)

(Lionheart) O, brave new world,

That had such lovely creatures in it.

Ive nothing against you. Why dont you

get away while you still have a chance?

Do you recall what play of the masters

comes next in our repertoire?

Hm?

Let me prick your memory.

All right, then! Romeo and Juliet.

Good.

Good.

Then even an unpolished oaf like you

must be familiar with the duel scene.

You did kill Larding

and the others, didnt you?

How many actors have you destroyed,

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