Chapter Ten: In Which the Play is Preformed
Rehearsals continued at The Curtain until Sunday, which was the day of the first preformance. Since he was the only person available who knew the lines, Will took the place of Thomas as Romeo. Everyone was excited backstage. Ellen presented everyone with their costumes, which they seemed to be very pleased with.
"What d'you think of the costumes, Ned?" Ellen asked, handing him his. Though the character of Mercutio was neither a member of the Capulet or Montague families, Ellen had made a Montague doublet, to save work.
"Well made, though I think I see a flaw," Ellen elbowed him playfully.
"I suppose any compliment out of you, however small, is to be appriciated." Ellen grinned.
"Where has Margaret been these few days?"
"She left when the theater closed."
"Why?"
"Firstly, she didn't think she was needed here anymore, and secondly, her father told her that morning that she was to be married to a cloth merchant from Dover a week from today."
"Oh." Ellen could tell Ned felt slightly embarrassed about having flirted with Margaret before. There was noise to their left, and they looked to see Will and Sam discussing something.
"It's not my fault, master Shakespeare, I could do it yesterday," Sam protested. Ellen gasped. Sam's voice had finally changed. He now sounded more like a deep-voiced man, and less like the high-pitched young lady he was to play.
"Oh, God, we are doomed!" Ned grumbled.
"Not to worry, Ned. All will turn out well," Ellen reassured him, though, in truth, she wasn't so sure herself.
"How, might I ask?"
"I, er, I don't know. It's a mystery." Ellen smiled nervously, as Henslowe brushed past.
"What time is it?" Ned wondered aloud. In answer, the bells from the church rang three times. It was time for the play to begin. Juliet or no Juliet, the show would have to continue. Ned got up to signal the theater's trumpeters to begin playing. This signified the beginning of the show. The curtains opened, and Will shoved Mr. Wabash, the narrator, on. He was wearing a purple suit with a four-cornered hat, a costume that Ellen was particularly proud of. The only problem was that Mr. Wabash had a terrible stutter. Ellen gritted her teeth and prayed silently that he wouldn't screw up.
"Tuh-tuh," stuttered Wabash. Ellen dropped her head into her palm. The whole show down the tubes. This was the beginning of the end. Outside, some of the crowd began tittering.
"Tuh, tuh," Wabash tried again, failing pitifully, and then, miraculously, it came out.
"Two households," he burst out, "Both alike in dignity. From old grudge break forth new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From this fray, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their lives, and, with their death, doth bury their parents' strife!" Wabash continued. Everyone's looks of doom and gloom broke and faded into smiles of happy relief. The only other problem was Sam. But that wasn't for another twenty pages, and Ellen hoped that Henslowe could find a replacement Juliet by that time.
"Come on, Henslowe!" Ellen whispered frantically.
"Why do you care so much?" Ned asked.
"I may only be the costumer, but I'm still a part of this, Ned. I want to see it off right," she replied, "besides, you're my friend now. I don't wish you ill any longer. You know that."
"Hmm. Friend. Odd word, that," Ned mused.
"Very funny, Mercutio. Better to shut your mouth for once and watch the stage. You wouldn't want to miss you cue," Ellen paused a second, "Would you?"
"Of course not." There was a stirring backstage, and Henslowe appeared, and with him was none other than the young woman who had masqueraded as Thomas Kent.
"Is that?" Ellen started.
"It is. A woman. We are doomed!"
"But she'll know the lines, Ned!"
"That doesn't matter. Even if we do a good preformance, according to the law, we're headed for jail!"
"Ah. A minor drawback, yes. We should enjoy our freedom while we still can." Onstage, the nurse and lady Capulet were talking.
"What lark?" Ralph called out, "What ladybird? Juliet?" Henslowe pushed Sam out of the way, and pushed Thomas on.
"How now, nurse? Who calls?" Everyone was deathly silent. Even the actors on stage were absolutely shocked.
"Your mo-," Ralph forgot himself, and then corrected himself, using his falsetto voice, "Your mother." The scene continued flawlessly. Burbage stood next to Henslowe backstage.
"They'll throw us in the clinks!" he exclaimed.
"See you in jail, then," Henslowe replied, and they left.
"Next scene is mine," Ned got up.
"Break a leg, Ned," Ellen whispered, He nodded, and then joined Will at the side of the stage.
Everything else continued in a blur. The dancing, the balcony scene, the marriage of Romeo and Juliet, and then, Ned's death scene.
"By my head, here come the Capulets," George said. Ellen had heard these lines a thousand times before, but she felt as though she were hearing them again for the first time.
"By my heel," Ned replied, "I care not."
"Gentlemen!" Armitage said, still in his deep manly voice that he put on for this part, "A word with one of you."
"A word with one of us? Nay sir, let's make it a word and a blow."
"Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo." And so it went on. Then Will appeared, and the fighting began.
"Good Mercutio, no!" Will shouted, coming between Ned and Armitage. As rehearsed, Ned got stabbed, and fell against one of the supporting columns of the stage. Will ran to him.
"Courage, man! The hurt cannot be much!"
"Nay, 'tis a scratch, but 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man," Ned pretended to gasp for breath. There was a pause, and then,
"A PLAGUE on both your houses!" Ned shouted, "They have made worms' meat of me!" and then he died. Will, in a rage, got up to challenge Armitage.
"Tybalt! Mercutio's soul is but a little way above our heads! Draw if you be a man!" and they went at it. A couple of times, Armitage stabbed at Will, then raised his hands above his head in a triumphant stance, to the booing of the groundlings that stood below. Will stabbed him back, at last, and Armitage fell to the ground, pretending to bleed. Then he died. All of the other Montague kinsmen retreated, carrying Ned with them. But George stayed with Will.
Ellen watched as they carried Ned off stage."How was it?" he asked when they had set him down.
"Well, it was all right, I guess." Ned pulled out the blunted rapier he'd been using on stage.
"The truth now, or I shall run you through."
"Ned, that's blunted."
"So it is. Tell me how I did."
"In truth? You did a wonderful job. I never thought I'd see you in a smaller part than lead, but you did well." They sat backstage and listened intently to the dialogue. With Will and Thomas playing the main parts, there was more beauty in it than there had ever been in rehearsals. Finally came the last scene, where both Romeo and Juliet were in the tomb together. Romeo took the poison that the Apothecary, Mr. Fennyman, had given him.
"Here's to my love!" shouted Will. He lifted the vial high, and took the poison.
"True, Apothecary," Will strained, truly sounding as though he had taken poison, "Thy drugs are quick." he leaned over and kissed Juliet softly. "Thus with a kiss, I die," he said, and lay down, twitching a bit before actually dying. And then, there was a gasp from the crowd. Juliet had awaken.
"Where is my love?" she asked, "I remember well where I should be, and there I am. Where is my Romeo?" There was a call from the audience.
"Dead!" cried a single, desparing voice. Juliet turned around to see Romeo dead.
"What's this? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end." she paused for a moment, and then there was a sound of steel as she raised Romeo's dagger, as well as a gasp from the crowd.
"Oh, happy dagger!" she cried desparingly, "This is they sheath!" Juliet stabbed herself in the stomach, and a red scarf came tumbling out, resembling blood. Ellen smirked, proudly. That part had been her idea.
"There rust," continued Juliet, "and let me die." she collapsed, dead. The room lay dead silent. Then, Wabash reappeared, and made his closing speech.
"Some are pardoned, some punished. For never was a story of more woe, than that of Juliet, and her Romeo." He bowed low. The play was finished. There was absolute silence. And then, a single clap from the audience, followed by peals of applause and cheering. They loved it! The crowd loved the play! Ellen couldn't wipe the grin off of her face. Ned sat, amazed.
Rehearsals continued at The Curtain until Sunday, which was the day of the first preformance. Since he was the only person available who knew the lines, Will took the place of Thomas as Romeo. Everyone was excited backstage. Ellen presented everyone with their costumes, which they seemed to be very pleased with.
"What d'you think of the costumes, Ned?" Ellen asked, handing him his. Though the character of Mercutio was neither a member of the Capulet or Montague families, Ellen had made a Montague doublet, to save work.
"Well made, though I think I see a flaw," Ellen elbowed him playfully.
"I suppose any compliment out of you, however small, is to be appriciated." Ellen grinned.
"Where has Margaret been these few days?"
"She left when the theater closed."
"Why?"
"Firstly, she didn't think she was needed here anymore, and secondly, her father told her that morning that she was to be married to a cloth merchant from Dover a week from today."
"Oh." Ellen could tell Ned felt slightly embarrassed about having flirted with Margaret before. There was noise to their left, and they looked to see Will and Sam discussing something.
"It's not my fault, master Shakespeare, I could do it yesterday," Sam protested. Ellen gasped. Sam's voice had finally changed. He now sounded more like a deep-voiced man, and less like the high-pitched young lady he was to play.
"Oh, God, we are doomed!" Ned grumbled.
"Not to worry, Ned. All will turn out well," Ellen reassured him, though, in truth, she wasn't so sure herself.
"How, might I ask?"
"I, er, I don't know. It's a mystery." Ellen smiled nervously, as Henslowe brushed past.
"What time is it?" Ned wondered aloud. In answer, the bells from the church rang three times. It was time for the play to begin. Juliet or no Juliet, the show would have to continue. Ned got up to signal the theater's trumpeters to begin playing. This signified the beginning of the show. The curtains opened, and Will shoved Mr. Wabash, the narrator, on. He was wearing a purple suit with a four-cornered hat, a costume that Ellen was particularly proud of. The only problem was that Mr. Wabash had a terrible stutter. Ellen gritted her teeth and prayed silently that he wouldn't screw up.
"Tuh-tuh," stuttered Wabash. Ellen dropped her head into her palm. The whole show down the tubes. This was the beginning of the end. Outside, some of the crowd began tittering.
"Tuh, tuh," Wabash tried again, failing pitifully, and then, miraculously, it came out.
"Two households," he burst out, "Both alike in dignity. From old grudge break forth new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From this fray, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their lives, and, with their death, doth bury their parents' strife!" Wabash continued. Everyone's looks of doom and gloom broke and faded into smiles of happy relief. The only other problem was Sam. But that wasn't for another twenty pages, and Ellen hoped that Henslowe could find a replacement Juliet by that time.
"Come on, Henslowe!" Ellen whispered frantically.
"Why do you care so much?" Ned asked.
"I may only be the costumer, but I'm still a part of this, Ned. I want to see it off right," she replied, "besides, you're my friend now. I don't wish you ill any longer. You know that."
"Hmm. Friend. Odd word, that," Ned mused.
"Very funny, Mercutio. Better to shut your mouth for once and watch the stage. You wouldn't want to miss you cue," Ellen paused a second, "Would you?"
"Of course not." There was a stirring backstage, and Henslowe appeared, and with him was none other than the young woman who had masqueraded as Thomas Kent.
"Is that?" Ellen started.
"It is. A woman. We are doomed!"
"But she'll know the lines, Ned!"
"That doesn't matter. Even if we do a good preformance, according to the law, we're headed for jail!"
"Ah. A minor drawback, yes. We should enjoy our freedom while we still can." Onstage, the nurse and lady Capulet were talking.
"What lark?" Ralph called out, "What ladybird? Juliet?" Henslowe pushed Sam out of the way, and pushed Thomas on.
"How now, nurse? Who calls?" Everyone was deathly silent. Even the actors on stage were absolutely shocked.
"Your mo-," Ralph forgot himself, and then corrected himself, using his falsetto voice, "Your mother." The scene continued flawlessly. Burbage stood next to Henslowe backstage.
"They'll throw us in the clinks!" he exclaimed.
"See you in jail, then," Henslowe replied, and they left.
"Next scene is mine," Ned got up.
"Break a leg, Ned," Ellen whispered, He nodded, and then joined Will at the side of the stage.
Everything else continued in a blur. The dancing, the balcony scene, the marriage of Romeo and Juliet, and then, Ned's death scene.
"By my head, here come the Capulets," George said. Ellen had heard these lines a thousand times before, but she felt as though she were hearing them again for the first time.
"By my heel," Ned replied, "I care not."
"Gentlemen!" Armitage said, still in his deep manly voice that he put on for this part, "A word with one of you."
"A word with one of us? Nay sir, let's make it a word and a blow."
"Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo." And so it went on. Then Will appeared, and the fighting began.
"Good Mercutio, no!" Will shouted, coming between Ned and Armitage. As rehearsed, Ned got stabbed, and fell against one of the supporting columns of the stage. Will ran to him.
"Courage, man! The hurt cannot be much!"
"Nay, 'tis a scratch, but 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man," Ned pretended to gasp for breath. There was a pause, and then,
"A PLAGUE on both your houses!" Ned shouted, "They have made worms' meat of me!" and then he died. Will, in a rage, got up to challenge Armitage.
"Tybalt! Mercutio's soul is but a little way above our heads! Draw if you be a man!" and they went at it. A couple of times, Armitage stabbed at Will, then raised his hands above his head in a triumphant stance, to the booing of the groundlings that stood below. Will stabbed him back, at last, and Armitage fell to the ground, pretending to bleed. Then he died. All of the other Montague kinsmen retreated, carrying Ned with them. But George stayed with Will.
Ellen watched as they carried Ned off stage."How was it?" he asked when they had set him down.
"Well, it was all right, I guess." Ned pulled out the blunted rapier he'd been using on stage.
"The truth now, or I shall run you through."
"Ned, that's blunted."
"So it is. Tell me how I did."
"In truth? You did a wonderful job. I never thought I'd see you in a smaller part than lead, but you did well." They sat backstage and listened intently to the dialogue. With Will and Thomas playing the main parts, there was more beauty in it than there had ever been in rehearsals. Finally came the last scene, where both Romeo and Juliet were in the tomb together. Romeo took the poison that the Apothecary, Mr. Fennyman, had given him.
"Here's to my love!" shouted Will. He lifted the vial high, and took the poison.
"True, Apothecary," Will strained, truly sounding as though he had taken poison, "Thy drugs are quick." he leaned over and kissed Juliet softly. "Thus with a kiss, I die," he said, and lay down, twitching a bit before actually dying. And then, there was a gasp from the crowd. Juliet had awaken.
"Where is my love?" she asked, "I remember well where I should be, and there I am. Where is my Romeo?" There was a call from the audience.
"Dead!" cried a single, desparing voice. Juliet turned around to see Romeo dead.
"What's this? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end." she paused for a moment, and then there was a sound of steel as she raised Romeo's dagger, as well as a gasp from the crowd.
"Oh, happy dagger!" she cried desparingly, "This is they sheath!" Juliet stabbed herself in the stomach, and a red scarf came tumbling out, resembling blood. Ellen smirked, proudly. That part had been her idea.
"There rust," continued Juliet, "and let me die." she collapsed, dead. The room lay dead silent. Then, Wabash reappeared, and made his closing speech.
"Some are pardoned, some punished. For never was a story of more woe, than that of Juliet, and her Romeo." He bowed low. The play was finished. There was absolute silence. And then, a single clap from the audience, followed by peals of applause and cheering. They loved it! The crowd loved the play! Ellen couldn't wipe the grin off of her face. Ned sat, amazed.