"It is not the poet's function to describe what has actually happened, but the kinds of thing that might happen, that is, that could happen because they are, in the circumstances, either probable or necessary."

- Aristotle: On the Art of Poetry

CHARACTERS 16 M 7 F plus extras

James Boswell at fifty-three (Old Boswell in the script)
James Boswell at twenty-two (Boswell in the script)
Mrs Wilkes, housekeeper to Old Boswell
A physician
Molly, chambermaid to Boswell
Lord Auchinleck, Boswell's father
Lord Eglinton, thirty-nine, friend to Boswell
Louisa (Mrs Lewis), twenty-four, actress
Mr Terrie, Boswell's landlord
Lady Northumberland, forty-six
The Duke of Queensberry, sixty-four
Colonel Gould
Lady Mirabel, forty
Oliver Goldsmith, author, thirty-two
Arthur Murphy, actor, early thirties
Tom Davies, actor turned bookseller, middle-aged
Robert Dodsley, retired publisher/bookseller
Samuel Johnson, man of letters, fifty-four
Rev. John Ogilvie, a staid Presbyterian minister
Ginny, a young whore
A major-domo
Stage manager
Jane, maid to Lady Northumberland
Actresses, actors, stage hands, passers-by, whores, fashionable guests, Louisa's maid

23 speaking parts and one voice off (Landlady). Some of the parts can be doubled or trebled to bring the cast down to about 15.

Notes on staging

The following characters appear at intervals far enough apart to enable one actor to double or treble the parts:
Physician - Davies and Gould
Auchinleck - Landlord and Ogilvie
Queensberry - Stage manager and Murphy
Eglinton - Goldsmith
Johnson - Major-domo
Molly - First actress and Ginny
Jane - Second actress
NOTE: Boswell himself must be played by two different actors.

Boswell's costume changes
On pages 13 and 61, Boswell appears to dress very quickly. He can, of course, wear his costume under his nightshirt, except for coat, shoes and stockings.

SET
The two levels of set are essential, as are the stairs, but the lower level may be dressed merely to suggest various interiors and occasional exteriors. The upper level is always Old Boswell's bedroom.

LIGHTING
To suggest interiors, exteriors, day and night

PERIOD
The play is set in the eighteenth century, the upper level being the year 1793, the lower level being 1762 - 63. The play is therefore a "costume play".

James Boswell, biographer of Dr Johnson, believes himself to be dying. He reminisces over parts of his mis-spent youth, using his London Journal for 1762 - 63 to help him. Much of the play consists of scenes from the Journal, particularly Boswell's affair with Louisa, an actress whom he treats badly, and his meetings with Samuel Johnson and other characters from the eighteenth century London literary world. The Journal cheers him up to such an extent that, finally convinced that he is not dying, he rises from his bed and goes off to enjoy himself in the way he knows best.

The play is best suited to a college dramatic society because of the large cast. There is plenty of scope for crowded and colourful scenes and the dialogue will help to bring out the eighteenth-century atmosphere.

The episodic nature of the play means that the characters appear "ready-made", so to speak. These notes are therefore provided as an aid to production.

Boswell: From his journal, the twenty-two year-old Boswell seems to have possessed self-assurance to the point of extreme egocentricity. He treated all women equally - as means of satisfying his sexual desires, whether he consorted with ladies of fashion or ladies of the town.

His desire to join the Guards was motivated by the glamour of the uniform, although to be fair, he had long entertained the idea of being a soldier. At times, in his journal, his assurance breaks down. When a woman attempted to dominate him, for example, he would be plunged into anxiety. Despite his failings, he seems to have been a charismatic man, occasionally the butt of others, but generally well-liked.

In this play, the older Boswell is wiser, but somewhat sadder than his younger self. All his life Boswell was prone to melancholy and frequently frightened himself with thoughts of death and the afterlife.

Louisa: Not her real name, but referred to as such in the journal, Louisa was dismissed by Boswell as a "consummate dissembling whore". Modern opinion has it that the attack of gonorrhoea suffered by Boswell was not the direct result of his affair with Louisa, but was probably a recrudescence of an earlier attack. His contemptuous dismissal of her was probably somewhat hasty, and the impression given by the journal is that Louisa was the victim of rather unjust treatment and not the calculating gold-digger that Boswell thought her.

Auchinleck: A High Court Judge, Auchinleck was a stern man of Calvinistic leanings. He disapproved mightily of his son's gadding about in London, although he had sent him there in the first place to let him have his head a little. The two letters which he reads in the play are concocted from one which he sent Boswell in 1763.

Lady Northumberland: Patrician and ostentatious. Although in real life she was not as aloof as the play suggests, she disappointed Boswell in her failure to get him a commission in the Guards, and in fact eventually showed indifference to his ambitions.

Queensberry: Boswell does not record Queensberry as being cold and indifferent, but he, too, disappointed our hero over the Guards commission. Consequently he is portrayed as being indifferent from the outset.

Lady Mirabel: Probably Lady Mary Coke, mature but attractive enough for Boswell to begin an intrigue with her while pursuing the favours of Louisa.

Goldsmith: Ugly and clumsy, eager to shine as a conversationalist in a circle dominated by Johnson.

Murphy: Actor and playwright, presented here as a flippant and rather cynical character, a foil to Ogilvie.

Ogilvie: A Scots Presbyterian divine, solemn and serious.

Davies: Here, a somewhat colourless character, responsible for introducing Boswell to Johnson.

Dodsley: The victim of libel in this play, since there is no evidence that he was a rake in earlier life. Here, a serious-minded elderly man long since reformed from debauchery.

Johnson: Centre of literary life in London, ugly, coarse, slovenly, poor, eccentric in his mannerisms, noted for his morality.

Eglinton: Much older than Boswell. Eglinton took Boswell under his wing on an earlier visit to London, when he introduced our hero to "high debauchery" as opposed to the low debauchery which Boswell had hitherto indulged in. A cynical man-about-town, unmarried and treated by Boswell as a fellow-bachelor confidant.

Mrs Wilkes: Brisk, no-nonsense housekeeper. One of the few fictitious characters in the play.

The set contains two levels. "Above" is a room occupied by the fifty-three year old Boswell - designated for convenience as Old Boswell; "below" is the area in which most of the action takes place, and which will be rooms, the street, coffee-house, etc., as needed.

Old Boswell, who believes he is dying of complications caused by drink and gonorrhoea, is propped up in an armchair above, where he will remain for most of the play. A flight of stairs leads from one side of "above" to a point at the side of the area below.

As the play opens, only the area above is lighted. Old Boswell is attended to by Mrs Wilkes, his housekeeper, and his physician, who has just concluded an examination.

PHYSICIAN Mr Boswell, I see no change in you either for the better or the worse. Have you persisted in taking strong drink despite my instructions?

OLD BOS. In my present situation, doctor, it matters little whether I take strong drink or not, does it? (He suffers a coughing fit)

PHYSICIAN If you won't keep to the regimen I've prescribed you, you can hope for little improvement.

OLD BOS. Pooh! You're talking twaddle, doctor. Look at me. I'm fifty-four in October. I'm riddled with disease. My liver is rotten with drink, my constitution shot through with fifteen infections of pox. My lungs feel as though they're full of mud, my brain is softening into a useless jelly. What the devil can your regimen do for me? I'm a dying man. You know it and so do I. (Spasm)

PHYSICIAN I'm not going to renew that line of argument, Mr Boswell. I've told you you've twenty years in you at least. Look at your friend Dr Johnson. Lived to be seventy-five.

OLD BOS. (Chuckling grimly) Aye, but he didn't live the life I've lived, doctor. He didn't sap his vitality with the excesses of debauchery and whoring. I'm paying the price for youthful folly. (Coughing fit) London will kill me.

PHYSICIAN It will take more than London life to kill you, sir. However, once you're cured, it will do you no harm to take a holiday in Auchinleck.

OLD BOS. Áffleck, man, Áffleck! Pronounce it properly. I suppose you'll be back tomorrow.

PHYSICIAN Yes, and I'll look for an improvement in you.

OLD BOS. You'll look in vain. However, just as you please. (More coughing and spasms)

PHYSICIAN Good day, sir. (Picks up bag and motions Mrs Wilkes to accompany him to the stairs)

OLD BOS. Good day to you, doctor. (Slumps back in chair)

PHYSICIAN (To Mrs Wilkes) I'll see him tomorrow. Get him to take the tonic I've prescribed.

MRS W. How bad is he, doctor? (They begin to descend the stairs)

PHYSICIAN (Shaking head) Quite frankly, Mrs Wilkes, I'll be surprised if he doesn't see us both into our graves. He's suffering from what we used to call the spleen. Excessive melancholy - depression, if you like. He has a rather heavy cold, which doesn't help, but all this talk of dying - rubbish! He's simply in low spirits.

MRS W. He's been thinking a lot about his poor wife, you know, doctor. He was here when she died - she was in Scotland, you see - and he didn't get to her bedside in time. It's preyed on his mind for the last four years or so.

PHYSICIAN H'm! He is prone to these melancholy fits, of course. A few more days should make all the difference. (By now they are at the foot of the stairs). I'll see myself out. Goodbye. (Exit)

OLD BOS. (Stirring feebly) Mrs Wilkes! Where's my journal?

MRS W. (reascending) Quite now, Mr Boswell. I'm coming. You shouldn't excite yourself, you know that.

OLD BOS. Bring me my journal, will you, Mrs Wilkes. And stop chiding me. Dying men can do what the devil they please.

MRS W. Kindly moderate your language, Mr Boswell. And no more of this talk about dying, if you please. (She goes to a bookshelf)

OLD BOS. Why not? I'm doing it. Not as slowly and painfully as old Sam Johnson, but just as successfully. (Coughs) God! I always used to wonder why he feared death. Now I know why.

MRS W. Which volume do you want, sir?

OLD BOS. 1762 to 63. The one I never let you read.

MRS W. If you think you really are dying, sir, you should turn your thoughts to heaven, instead of gloating over these records of wickedness and sin.

OLD BOS. Wickedness and sin? You make a distinction between them, do you?

MRS W. You should not be flippant about these things, sir. Have you no desire to study your Bible?

OLD BOS. I've read nothing else these last three days. I need some light relief, especially after the Book of Revelation. (Mrs Wilkes snorts) I'll detain you no longer, Mrs Wilkes. I may call for some refreshment, if I can get it down me.

MRS W. Very well, Mr Boswell. (Exit downstairs)

OLD B. (Opening journal) To think it should all end like this! (Reads aloud) "The ancient philosopher certainly gave a wise counsel when he said, 'Know thyself.'" - Aye, Bozzy, you young fool that you were. That's true. - "I have therefore decided to keep a daily journal" - (skims a few lines) hm hm hm hm-hm - "which will be not only useful but very agreeable." (Turns a page) Hm hm hm - "Very often we have more pleasure in reflecting on agreeable scenes that we have been in that we had from the scenes themselves." When did I write all this? November 1762. Thirty years ago. (Turns page. Chuckles) Aye, those lodgings. Downing Street, Westminster, up two pair of stairs with the use of the parlour all morning.

(The lights fade on Old Boswell and all above is dark. Simultaneously, lights come up on the lodgings of Boswell at the age of twenty-two. It is Downing Street in November 1762. The curtains of Boswell's bedroom are closed, admitting the merest suggestion of the grey light of a chill morning. Distant church bells indicate that it is Sunday. From outside comes the occasional clop and rumble of a carriage.

Boswell's four-poster bed stands in a corner, the curtains closed. Loud snoring comes from within. Molly the chambermaid, enters with towel, steaming ewer and basin, puts them onto the washstand, pours hot water from the ewer into the basin, and opens the window curtains to admit the cold grey light.

The morning light reveals articles of Boswell's clothing forming a trail from the door to the bed. A chair has been overturned. Molly replaces the chair, folds the garments, places them neatly on the chair, and approaches the bed-curtains.)

MOLLY Mr Boswell! (No response) Mr Boswell! It's now nine o'clock, sir! (A feeble moan from within the curtains) Mr Boswell! Mr Boswell! (Incoherent moaning from within) What did you say?

BOSWELL (within curtains) Izza mornin' or night?

MOLLY It's nine o'clock in the morning, sir. (Boswell's hand gropes out from the curtains and grasps at the maid's thighs, but she evades smartly as one well-practised) You wanted to be called, sir. (Moan from Boswell) Come on, Mr Boswell. Wake up, sir!

(The groping hand is slowly followed by Boswell's night-capped head. He is a fresh-faced young man sadly the worse for a night's dissipation. Under the nightcap he wears his own hair, tied in a queue. He is clad in his nightshirt. The maid draws back the bed curtains)

BOSWELL What time?

MOLLY Nine o'clock in the morning. It's Sunday, remember?

BOSWELL Nine o'clock? Good God, girl! I wanted to be called at seven.

MOLLY I called at seven. I couldn't wake you. I called again at seven-thirty, at eight, eight-thirty -

BOSWELL Don't shout. Don't shout. (Clutches head)

MOLLY I'm not shouting, sir. (Boswell begins to clamber out of bed. Molly retreats. Boswell sits on the bed and clutches his head, staring blankly) Your hot water's there. Good morning, sir. (Exit)

BOSWELL Nine o'clock! (He stumbles to the washstand and plunges his face into the basin) Agghh! (Flails about with his towel) Boiling hot! Oh, it does you good these cold mornings. Where's the soap? She's forgotten the soap again. Stupid hussy! Twenty-two pounds a year for this kind of service! (He begins to dress: stockings and breeches on, nightshirt off, shivers a while, then pulls on shirt, waistcoat, neckband, morning coat, shoes, talking the while) If a man, newly arrived in London, cannot thoroughly debauch himself once in a while and still be called early to go to church, then London's no better than it should be. Still, it's not a bad situation for a young man of mettle to be in. An allowance of twenty-five pounds every six weeks is little enough to live in the grand style, but I make shift on it. I can enjoy the pleasures and indulge in some of the vices. But the vice I most dearly love is too expensive in this city. It's also accompanied by the risk of distemper, painful to suffer and expensive to cure. However, if I can get into a pleasant little intrigue with some woman of fashion I shall pass an enjoyable and active winter. (By now he is decent enough for the maid to be able to enter)

MOLLY Your correspondence, sir, from yesterday.

BOSWELL Put them down, Molly. They'll just be the usual bills. Thank you.

MOLLY Thank you, sir. (Puts down letters. Exit)

BOSWELL (Examining post) Let's see. Tailor. Hosier. Sword-maker. They can wait. Ah! (Breaks seal of last letter) From my father.

(The stairway lights up to reveal Lord Auchinleck, halfway up, reading over a letter he has drafted. Boswell finishes dressing, either taking the letter about the room or laying it where he can see it. He mouths an audible accompaniment to what Auchinleck reads)

AUCH. (Strong Edinburgh accent) James, my last letter to let you know how much I was displeased with some particulars of your conduct that had come to my knowledge. I found, for example, that while you were staying in Dumfries you gave yourself up to mimicry, and took off - as you called it - Lord Dumfries, Sir George Preston, and the Logan. This gave me vast pain. (Boswell has begun to mimic his father) Mimicry has been rightly considered as the lowest and meanest kind of wit. As to your manner of life, I have never declared against the way in which you choose to live, except dissipation and vice, and going into the Guards as an officer, which in your case will come to the same thing. However, as you know, I have sent you to London so that you can realise for yourself what a foolish scheme it would be for you to go into the Guards. You will also find it well-nigh impossible, I fancy, since the peace treaty with France was recently signed. Yet you may as well learn from your own experience. You know what I would rather see you do by way of earning a living. If you persist in your fancy of wanting to be a soldier, I am prepared to purchase you a commission in a marching regiment, which will either kill you or cure you. You would be better advised to apply yourself to the study of law. Get into Parliament and have the power of conferring places instead of going about begging for one. By the way, I trust you will keep no further attempts at a journal. I was greatly disturbed by what I read in your last one.

BOSWELL How did he find out about that?

AUCH. Besides, I despise scribblers. I remain your affectionate father, Áffleck. (Auchinleck fades from sight and hearing. Boswell is now dressed for going out)

BOSWELL (folding the letter) My affectionate father's greatest wish is to have absolute power over his son's every movement. Yet I intend to move heaven and earth to be a soldier, as long as there's no danger of getting my head knocked off on some distant battlefield. (Puts down letter, picks up hat and stick). The Guards are permanently quartered in London. Therefore, as a Guards officer, I shall enjoy all the pleasures of society without having to face the dangers suffered by the marching regiments. Now, out to breakfast, and then to church.

(Shouldering his cane and whistling "Lilliburlero", exit Boswell. The set below darkens, and Old Boswell, above, comes into view.)

OLD B. (Reading) "I breakfasted with Mr Douglas. I then went to St James's church and heard service and a good sermon on - " (Overtaken by coughing) Aye, a good sermon indeed. "I then walked in the Park and went home to dinner. At six I went to Mr Sheridan's." Aye. Now was it that day I visited the Beefsteak Club above Covent Garden Theatre? No, not on a Sunday. (Turns page) Ah, yes. I met Lord Eglinton. Eglinton! The man who introduced me to the pleasures of the Town. My guide, my mentor, my friend!

(Lights fade above. Below, only downstage is lighted. This is the street. A few passers-by. Boswell, in high spirits, makes for Lord Eglinton. N.B. As Old Boswell, above, speaks the line "My guide, my mentor, my friend," his younger self should follow with his first words, if necessary, before the lights go up on him).

BOSWELL My lord! Lord Eglinton! How are you?

EGLINTON (marked Scots) What, Jamie? Out so soon?

BOSWELL I've been to church, my lord.

EGLINTON You need to go, you young rogue, you! What was the sermon? Was it why young Mr Boswell should keep the Ten Commandments?

BOSWELL No, my lord. It was "By what means shall a young man order his ways."

EGLINTON You actually listened to it? You mean you fell asleep after it had begun?

BOSWELL No, my lord. It was a good sermon.

EGLINTON It must have been, for you to listen. And what did you learn about a young man ordering his ways? What profundities are you ready to impart?

BOSWELL Well, my lord, it took a while for the parson to get into his stride, and by then, it appeared that - er - I - er -

EGLINTON Had gone to sleep?

BOSWELL Not quite, my lord. My attention wandered somewhat.

EGLINTON Of course. And in which direction had it wandered? Above your waistband, or below?

BOSWELL What a curious, inconsistent thing is the mind of man!

EGLINTON Philosophy, Jamie? Are you sure you're well?

BOSWELL In the midst of divine service, I found myself laying plans.

EGLINTON And these plans, Jamie? For having lunch, perhaps?

BOSWELL No, my lord. For having women.

EGLINTON (laughing) You young rascal! You dog, Jamie Boswell!

BOSWELL And yet I had the most sincere feelings of religion.

EGLINTON Oh, of course. You would. After all, you describe yourself as a worshipper at the shrine of Venus, do you not?

(Boswell and Eglinton appraise a couple of whores passing at that moment)

BOSWELL It is very curious to think that I have now been in London several weeks without ever enjoying the delightful sex.

EGLINTON The fault's your own, Jamie. We are surrounded by numbers of free-hearted ladies of all kinds.

BOSWELL Ah, but I am on a course of strict economy, my lord. I cannot afford the fifty guinea-a-night madams. I dare not take the shilling girls because of the risk of contracting infection. But the greatest reason for my abstinence is that Venus has at last smiled upon me.

EGLINTON The goddess answers the prayers of her votary, eh? And what's happened, Jamie?

BOSWELL My lord, I have been looking for a woman worthy of my love, and who thinks me worthy of hers without any vested interest or payments of any sort having to be made.

EGLINTON Not even indirectly, such as installing her in more fashionable apartments, or paying off her debts, or paying for anything else other than debts that she may have contracted? Physician's fees, for example?

BOSWELL No, my lord.

EGLINTON You lucky dog, Jamie. The only way to find out if a woman really loves a man is to test her over money.

BOSWELL Quite so, my lord. I've tested this one, and she passes with colours flying.

EGLINTON Who is this paragon?

BOSWELL A young actress at Covent Garden, my lord. A year or two older than I am, I think, damned attractive, witty and vivacious, and, in all, a safe bet for a winter's copulation, I should say.

EGLINTON An actress? So this is to be a mere dalliance, an intrigue. I thought for a moment you were intending to take it seriously, but an actress, after all! Who is she? (Boswell whispers to Eglinton) Oh, that one? I've often admired her myself. I didn't know her name was Louisa.

BOSWELL It isn't, my lord, but I refer to her as Louisa in my journal. I'm going to see her now, in fact.

EGLINTON I'll come part of the way with you. How did you come to be acquainted?

BOSWELL (as they go off) It was the other night at Covent Garden, my lord. I went backstage to congratulate her on her performance...

(Exit Boswell and Eglinton. The whole set lights up - that is, the lower level - to reveal the backstage area of Covent Garden Theatre. Actors and actresses enter in pandemonium. Some are dressing, others undressing. Actresses are being courted by gallants, squabbling, rehearsing, making-up, etc. Prominent among her colleagues is Louisa, a tall attractive girl of twenty-four. She is wearing only a bodice and petticoat and is revealing plenty of cleavage and a shapely leg on which she is adjusting a garter. Boswell enters - he need not actually make an exit from his previous scene - and threads his way through the crowd towards her. She displays both cleavage and leg for his benefit; his eyes are almost popping out in appreciation)

BOSWELL (above the hubbub) Madam, if you will permit me to say so, you made a most exquisite duchess last night. Are we to expect another ravishing performance tonight?

LOUISA You are too kind, sir. Will you help me on with this dress? (Pulls on dress. Boswell assists)

BOSWELL Nay, madam, you are too modest.

LOUISA I can't hear you sir.

BOSWELL (roaring) I said you are too modest, madam. (The noise around him abruptly ceases as he is shouting, so that his last words make him the centre of all interest)

AN ACTRESS (to another) Madam, the gentleman thinks Mrs Lewis to be too modest.

2nd ACTRS Nobody, madam, could ever accuse Mrs Lewis of the fault of modesty.

LOUISA (to them, hissing) That's enough, you trollops, or I'll scratch out your damned eyes! (They flounce away. To Boswell) Sir, you enjoyed the play? (Leads him to a quiet corner)

BOSWELL A pretty enough piece - I say that as a man of letters myself, of course - but beneath the presence of one such as yourself.

LOUISA La, sir, you make one blush! (Her coquetry is somewhat ruined by a giggling young actress who is chased between them by an admirer)

BOSWELL Madam, such sweet modesty in one so pleasing is rare indeed. One finds so many - (An actor, in his underpants, supports himself against Boswell while struggling into a pair of tight breeches. Boswell, distracted, loses his thread)

LOUISA What pleased you best in the play?

BOSWELL Nay, madam, I saw nothing of the play. I saw only you and was aware of none other. You were Venus herself. Your beauty surpasses that of Cleopatra, of Diana, of Helen of Troy, of -

LOUISA Sir, you are too bold! To find oneself assailed by such protestations of admiration!

BOSWELL My protestations, I can assure you, madam, come from a full heart.

LOUISA Sir, in my profession one becomes used to hearing the silver tongues of flatterers. But -

BOSWELL Madam, I must protest again! My intention in coming backstage was not to flatter you. If you find me insincere, say but the word, and I shall take myself off.

LOUISA As I was about to say, sir, I am used to hearing flatterers, but in your praise I find nothing but genuine feeling.

BOSWELL (bowing) Madam, I am your humblest servant. (His bow is ruined by two stage hands, who, with a "By your leave, sir", carry a piece of scenery between him and Louisa)

LOUISA It is I who am obliged to you, sir. Indeed, you have me at a disadvantage, for how can I repay the compliments you have bestowed upon me?

BOSWELL Madam, I should be the happiest man on earth if, after tonight's performance, you would but sup with me.

LOUISA Sir, you are importunate. I must have time.

BOSWELL What is time, madam, but the thief of life? And the thief of time is procrastination. I beg you, I implore you to accept. (Two actors, arguing vehemently, pass between them)

LOUISA Oh sir, I can't think amid this turmoil. Besides, my mind is preoccupied with tonight's performance. Will you be there?

BOSWELL In the pit, as ever, madam. A pit indeed if you refuse me. I shall call on you afterwards. (Someone gets in his way again)

LOUISA Here, sir?

BOSWELL Here, or in your room.

LOUISA In my rooms at night, sir? (She has spoken too loudly and people look at her in surprise. Boswell draws her away)

BOSWELL I meant tomorrow, if you will permit.

LOUISA (playing up to anyone watching her) You will be welcome to take tea in the afternoon, sir.

BOSWELL At what time?

LOUISA At three.

BOSWELL Madam, it will be an honour.

(Enter Stage Manager)

S.MANAGER Beginners, please! Beginners! (Various actors move off)

LOUISA We're about to begin. You'll lose your seat.

BOSWELL I've a friend keeping it. Till tomorrow, your humble servant and admirer. (Bows extravagantly but she is gone. An actor allows the bowing Boswell to take his hand and kiss it. Boswell straightens up holding actor's hand, realises his mistake, and sweeps out in indignation. Lights down below, up above)

OLD BOS. (Reading from journal) "I dined at home. Whenever I don't mention my place of dining, it is to be understood that I dine at home. I must not neglect to mention Molly the maid, as she is such a personage as one does not meet with every day. She is indeed one of the stupidest human beings that ever I met with. She has a kind of instinct by which she is actuated, but which she gets on pretty well. She is very careful and diligent and extremely good-natured and disposed to oblige." Which led me into a situation so embarrassing that I decided not to record it.

(Lights fade above, and the set below is lighted to show Boswell's bedroom. It is noon. Boswell is still in bed, with the curtains drawn back. Molly is bustling about).

BOSWELL Has my lord Eglinton left his card this morning, Molly?

MOLLY No, sir. Not as far as I know. Shall I go and find out?

BOSWELL No, no. Don't bother. It's a few days since I last saw him. I wondered if he would call today. (Heavy sigh and restless movements)

MOLLY Are you feeling ill, sir? You're not your normal self.

BOSWELL Ill, Molly? No, not ill. Merely melancholy.

MOLLY Sir?

BOSWELL Melancholy. Depressed. Low in spirits. It's part of my nature.

MOLLY Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Can I get you a cordial or a tonic?

BOSWELL Don't trouble. The fit will pass in due course. Melancholy temperaments are amorous temperaments, you understand me, Molly?

MOLLY No, sir.

BOSWELL (smiling) No matter. Tell me, Molly, do you like it here? Does your master treat you well?

MOLLY Well enough, sir.

BOSWELL You don't sound too sure, Molly. I ask you again, and answer me truly. Does your master treat you kindly?

MOLLY Oh, he's very kind, sir.

BOSWELL Kind? What do you mean by kind?

MOLLY Sir?

BOSWELL He shows some regard for you, perhaps. Some affection?

MOLLY I - I think so, sir.

BOSWELL Some amorous affection, perhaps.

MOLLY (blushing) Oh, sir!

BOSWELL Come here, girl. Do not play the innocent with me. Come here and let me look at you. (She advances, reluctantly. Boswell is appreciative) Closer, girl, closer!

MOLLY Sir, my work here is done -

BOSWELL Good. Then you will have time to spend a few minutes in conversation. Now, tell me the truth. Does your master show you amorous affection.

MOLLY Oh, sir! Here, what do you mean by asking such things?

BOSWELL Ah, so he does! The scoundrel, to take advantage of a poor girl!

MOLLY Oh, no, sir! He doesn't! He -

BOSWELL Not another word, girl! I know these villains. Why, the insolent jackanapes! How dare he sully such virgin beauty?

MOLLY But sir, you impute these things to him and know not what you say -

BOSWELL I do know! I do, Molly. But this shall not go on. Sit on the bed. (She does so with temerity) Ah, my dearest Molly! Such beauty, such grace, such innocent charm! Young as you are, I am convinced you are no stranger to the amorous passion. Come, Molly, tell me truly. Who is the happy boy whose eyes you have conquered, eh?

MOLLY Happy boy, sir? I've conquered no happy boys, sir. I'm in no position to do that, sir.

BOSWELL You mean you are a general lover. I am not displeased with your answer. Nothing could be more unworthy in a young girl than to betray intimacies with gentlemen.

MOLLY Gentlemen, sir? I'm sure I never had the impudence to think myself worthy of any gentlemen.

BOSWELL Then you have had lovers?

MOLLY (blushing) Sir! The things you say!

BOSWELL Molly, your blushes merely increase your charm. Dearest Molly, you are Venus herself. Your beauty surpasses that of Diana, of Cleopatra, of Helen of Troy -

MOLLY (puzzled) Sir?

BOSWELL No matter, Molly.

MOLLY May I go now, sir?

BOSWELL (falling back in bed) Molly, I have a pain in my bosom. (Moans)

MOLLY There, sir. I thought you weren't well, the things you been a-saying.

BOSWELL (opening nightshirt) Here, Molly.

MOLLY (embarrassed) Oh, sir, I own I never before did see the naked flesh of a gentleman.

BOSWELL Then you must see as much as you wish. (Pulls her to him)

MOLLY (shrieking) No sir, no!

BOSWELL Ah, Molly! How your charms arouse my amorous propensities!

MOLLY Roused your what, sir?

BOSWELL I wish to enjoy your person, my charmer. (Rips frantically at her clothes)

MOLLY Help! No, sir. Oh no!

(The door bursts open to admit the Landlord)

LANDLORD What's going on? Mr Boswell! (Molly frantically readjusts herself) Out, girl, out! (She scurries out) And now, Mr Boswell!

BOSWELL Thank heaven you came in, landlord! The girl is a tigress. She launched herself upon me with no warning. She's obviously besotted by me.

LANDLORD That may be, sir, but I would inform you that Mary is my daughter-in-law and a strict Wesleyan of high principles.

BOSWELL Oh God!

LANDLORD And her husband, my son, is a constable of this parish.

BOSWELL Good God! I'd no idea. I -

LANDLORD And furthermore, sir, Mary will not clean your room again whilst you are still abed. It being past noon. And now, sir, I bid you good morning. Or rather, good afternoon!

BOSWELL Good God! (Exit Landlord) I blame what has happened on my fair charmer, Louisa, who has invited me to her rooms to drink tea, but, despite my several hints and suggestions, has not yet permitted me to enjoy her person. (He scrambles out of bed and paces in his nightshirt) I do not wish to be unfaithful to her, but she arouses my carnal desires to such a pitch that even the maid here is now an object of my passions, which is wrong of me. Especially as I am the future Laird of Affleck and she but a servant. The great art of living easy and happy in society is to study proper behaviour, and even with our most intimate friends to observe politeness. Aye, and even with the maids. Talking of politeness, I must remember to record that I went the other night to see "Love in a Village", the new comic opera. At first I sat in the pit, and just before the overture, in came two Highland officers. The mob in the gallery roared out, "No Scots! No Scots! Out with them!" and pelted them with apples. My heart warmed to the Highlanders. My blood boiled with indignation. I jumped up onto the benches (he springs onto a chair) roared out at the gallery. "Damn you, you rascals!" hissed and was in the greatest rage.

I hated the English. I wished from the bottom of my soul that the Union was broken and that we might give them another thrashing at Bannockburn. The rudeness of the English mob is terrible. This indeed is the liberty they have: the liberty of bullying and being abusive with their blackguard tongues. They soon stopped, though, and afterwards I went up into the gallery and was well-entertained with the opera.

(The Landlord enters and stares at Boswell who is still on his chair)

LANDLORD I beg your pardon, Mr Boswell. I thought I heard you talking.

BOSWELL (descending sheepishly) Who, I? No, no. I was merely - er - reciting poetry. I write a little, you know. (Quotes)

'Boswell does women adore,
And never once means to deceive;
He's in love with at least half a score;
If they're serious, he smiles in his sleeve.
He has all the bright fancy of youth
With the judgement of forty-and-five;
In short, to declare the plain truth,
There is no better fellow alive.'

LANDLORD Very modest, sir.

BOSWELL I'll give you some more if you like.

LANDLORD First of all allow me to send away the young lady, Mr Boswell. Then you can declaim at your leisure.

BOSWELL Lady?

LANDLORD She's called to see you. I'll tell her you're indisposed, shall I? (Louisa enters. Boswell is embarrassed by his nightshirt. Louisa is in walking-out dress, with rolled parasol).

LOUISA Thank you, Mr Terrie. (Landlord leaves in disgust) So these are your rooms, Mr Boswell. How charming. (She sits, uninvited).

BOSWELL Madam! I - my clothes - I beg you -

LOUISA Oh, think nothing of embarrassing me, Mr Boswell. We actresses are used to dressing and undressing in mixed company. The rigours of the profession being what they are, our changing facilities are not always as private as one might wish.

BOSWELL Madam, you will forgive my asking, but is it possible for you to withdraw until I have dressed? You may not be embarrassed, but I am.

LOUISA Really, Mr Boswell, this chair is so comfortable. Besides, do you think I have never seen a naked man before?

BOSWELL Madam! (He looks round and draws out a folding screen to hide him. Going behind this with his snatched-up clothes, he draws the screen around him on three sides). You will excuse me, I trust.

LOUISA If you insist, Mr Boswell.

BOSWELL I do!

LOUISA I must admit that you have the power to raise my spirits when I am in your company. (Boswell's nightshirt is flung over the top of the screen) Even though we are but newly acquainted.

BOSWELL Even though you caught me unawares it is good of you to call. I may add that my own spirits are considerably raised by your visit.

LOUISA So I perceive, Mr Boswell. There is a hole in the screen. (Convulsive choked cry from Boswell. The nightshirt is frantically moved along the screen). Wrong way, Mr Boswell. (More hasty movements) Come, sir, I am only teasing.

BOSWELL Madam, you never spoke truer. I sincerely trust that I am dressed and out of this predicament before someone comes in.

LOUISA Why, sir, there's only the landlord, who will not be embarrassed by your naked form, and the maid, who seems to be a sweet, unobserving creature.

BOSWELL If either of them were to enter now, they would immediately think the worst.

LOUISA Why, sir? There is a screen between us. (She rises and hooks her parasol handle onto the screen) But if it were to fall - (Gives gentle tug)

BOSWELL Madam, have a care! (His hands grasp the top of the screen)

LOUISA So, sir, do you mean to say that all your fine protestations and gallant words whenever you call on me are themselves but a screen? Do they conceal a timid nature?

BOSWELL (removes his hands) Very well, I dare you.

LOUISA Do you, sir? Daring is dangerous. (She pulls down the screen. Boswell is dressed, except for his coat, and perhaps his waistcoat is still open). Mr Boswell, you disappoint me.

BOSWELL I disappoint you? (Comes forward) Why, pray?

LOUISA You offered me a dare without any risk on your part.

BOSWELL I'm sorry you are disappointed, madam, but indeed, I have spent the last ten minutes astounded by your boldness.

LOUISA But since you've done nothing bold or forward since I entered the room, then I have had to make all the advances. It makes a change from your usual behaviour towards me.

BOSWELL I've never been taken aback in such a way before. To be assailed by a lady in my private chamber, in my nightshirt!

LOUISA You would rather I had called when you were in bed?

BOSWELL I had rather you had called after dark.

LOUISA Why?

BOSWELL Because if people are to think badly of us, I'd rather let their bad thoughts have their head and run away with them. Your calling alone after dark would set their thoughts racing.

LOUISA At last the real Mr Boswell emerges from behind his screen! Or has he erected a screen of bold talk to hide him?

BOSWELL No amount of talk could ever conceal my true feelings for you, madam.

LOUISA Even though I should have bad thoughts?

BOSWELL Bad thoughts can only come from wrongdoing, and we have done nothing wrong - yet.

LOUISA But you thought badly of me a few minutes ago.

BOSWELL At your instigation. Now you owe me the opportunity to think well of you.

LOUISA How, sir?

BOSWELL By making me happy, madam.

LOUISA Does not my visit do that?

BOSWELL Indeed, madam. But you know how you could make me still happier.

LOUISA I see that once the timid Mr Boswell has his clothes on, he becomes Boswell the Bold. Not content with a visit from me, he makes remarks that are at least suggestive.

BOSWELL Madam, it is you who have led me on. Remember, you have this morning displayed unwarranted boldness in a woman.

LOUISA My boldness seems to disconcert you, sir. I merely wished to test your mettle.

BOSWELL Madam, you have me so that I know not where I stand. One minute you taunt me with talk of naked men, the next you protest because I say one or two straightforward things!

LOUISA Didn't I say that you raise my spirits? I warrant, I am never as bold with other men of my acquaintance. With you, though, I feel that I may express myself more freely than convention allows.

BOSWELL I thought you were using mere forms of words, like Frenchmen, who make warm professions of regard only to please you for the moment.

LOUISA Unlike Scotsmen?

BOSWELL It's words, of course, no more. And, forgive me, I thought your talk of spirits was a mere form. (Takes her hand) But I see it was not. Yet I thought you meant little or nothing by what you said, a failing I've acquired from the English.

LOUISA Sir, when a Frenchman vows to be faithful to his word, he does not intend to please you for the moment. He intends the strictest honour, unlike many Englishmen I've known. My former husband, for example.

BOSWELL Your husband? So the talk of naked men was not the prattle of - er - er -

LOUISA A profligate harlot? Indeed not, Mr Boswell.

BOSWELL Is he still alive, your husband, or are you a widow?

LOUISA He's still alive. (Pensive) I was married far too young and was very unhappy. Luckily the marriage turned out to be invalid, so we parted.

BOSWELL What sort of man was he?

LOUISA Like the rest. Pompous, selfish, opinionated. Whenever I tried to deflate him he stood on his dignity just as you did when I found you in your nightshirt. There's nothing I like better than to deflate the pomposity of men. I do it every night when I upstage some strutting, swelling creature who's acting opposite me. Except Garrick, of course. I can't deflate him. He does it too well himself.

BOSWELL Tell me, Louisa, when you pulled down the screen, were you trying to deflate me?

LOUISA And have you stand stark naked in front of me? No, Mr Boswell. Despite my bold words, I was merely teasing. I knew you were dressed.

BOSWELL How?

LOUISA Because your screen really has a hole in it. By the way, I like it when you call me Louisa instead of madam. I like to catch you in your informal moments.

BOSWELL Indeed, we hide too much behind form. My name is James.

LOUISA I don't think I should call you James. Or Jamie. That would be abandoning form with a vengeance. No, I think I shall keep you as Mr Boswell. I think only one of us should unbend, and you've done enough of that today, haven't you?

BOSWELL What do you mean?

LOUISA By being caught in your nightshirt. Pray tell me what double entendres were running through your mind.

BOSWELL You pronounce French well. Do you speak it?

LOUISA I was brought up in France as a girl. When next you call on me, we'll read some French together. (Preparing to go).

BOSWELL This has been an adventure too embarrassing to put in my journal.

LOUISA You keep a journal? But you must record this episode. How we shall laugh together!

BOSWELL Perhaps, madam. But when shall I see you?

LOUISA This very afternoon at three.

BOSWELL I am your humble servant, madam.

LOUISA (Going) You're being pompous.

BOSWELL Louisa, then.

LOUISA Till later this afternoon. (Exit).

BOSWELL Oh, were I to write my thoughts in my journal! How the very ink would sear the page! Good God! To visit me unchaperoned! To conduct herself thus! What can be her purpose save to demonstrate her desire for me? Lord, there'll be more done than drinking tea and reading French this afternoon! Already I can feel the all-consuming fury of the furnaces of love. The teasing little minx! (Sings)

See the conqu'ring hero comes:
Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ta-tum-tum,
Ta-ra-ta-ta-tum.

(Lights fade out on Boswell. Lights up above on Old Boswell)

OLD BOS. But, Lord! What a disappointment was in store for me! Less than an hour before I was to meet my goddess, and bring our connection to fruition in her apartments, what should occur but that her young brother arrived with a message that my charmer was - ahem - "indisposed" and could not receive me that day. She would send a note when she could see me! And so in a trice was I cast from heaven into hell. My carnal desires were at their zenith and yet my fair Louisa had denied me fruition. What heartless creatures women are! There was but one chance of diverting me from the depravities of a shilling girl in the Park. That night I was due to visit my Lady Northumberland. (Peers at journal) "December 7th 1762. In the evening I went to Northumberland House, to the rout, which was indeed magnificent. Three large rooms and the gallery were full of the best company. As I was standing musing on the splendid scene around me, Lady Northumberland came up to me with the greatest complacency and kindness..."

(During Old Boswell's speech, the lights fade up below to disclose a brilliant gathering, Boswell in the centre. As Old Boswell draws to a close, Lady Northumberland approaches his younger self. She is not quite as the journal describes her: she is aloof and condescending rather than kind. In the background there is music. A major-domo stands at the door).

LADY N. Mr Boswell, how do you do? I hope you are come to settle among us.

BOSWELL My lady, how kind of you to invite me.

LADY N. I am very sorry that I was not at home when you called yesterday. I gave positive orders that you should be admitted whenever you came.

MAJOR-D His Grace the Duke of Queensberry!

(Queensberry enters)

BOSWELL My sincerest thanks, my lady. I feel a little awkward tonight. I know hardly anyone in the room.

LADY N. The awkwardness will go off by degrees, Mr Boswell. But I believe you have met this gentleman, the Duke of Queensberry. (Queensberry looks anything but delighted to see Boswell, who bows elaborately. Queensberry merely nods in acknowledgement)

QUEENS. Lady Northumberland, I believe Mr Dempster is expected tonight? Would you introduce him to me?

LADY N. Of course, my lord. But you did promise me to speak to Mr Boswell.

QUEENS. Oh yes. I'd forgotten. (Surveys Boswell through lorgnette)

MAJOR-D Colonel and Mrs Gould. (Enter Col. Gould and wife)

QUEENS. It is the question of a commission in the Guards, is it not, Mr Boswell?

BOSWELL It is, my lord. (Lady Northumberland moves away to greet Col. Gould)

QUEENS. A difficult business, Mr Boswell. (He is merely polite, not interested. He is looking for Col. Gould)

BOSWELL My lord, it is as difficult as can be imagined, yet I should think your grace's influence might do it for me.

QUEENS. (uninterested) Yes. I received your letter. But as you say, Mr Boswell, the thing is difficult. Is that Colonel Gould - (he approaches Gould and his wife who are conversing animatedly with Lady Northumberland)

BOSWELL (following) At the moment, my lord, I am in a state of suspense and hanging on, which is most disagreeable. (Comes round other side of Queensberry) But if Your Grace would be so generous as to make a push for me (His Grace accidentally elbows Boswell at this point) I believe I could do it. (Nurses ribs ruefully)

MAJOR-D Lady Mirabel Coke.

BOSWELL I believe I could do it, my lord.

QUEENS. (Surveying Gould through lorgnette) Yes, I heard you, Mr Boswell. I will do what I can with Lord Ligonier, the Commander-in-Chief. Ah, Colonel! Excuse me, Mr Boswell. (Breaks away from Boswell)

GOULD (a jovial man) Your Grace. (Elaborate bowing between himself and Queensberry. Boswell, somewhat out of it, bows ostentatiously to Gould, who bows back. Lady Northumberland drifts off with Gould's wife)

MAJOR-D Lord Eglinton.

BOSWELL Perhaps your grace will introduce me?

QUEENS. (Martyred) Colonel Gould, Mr Boswell.

GOULD Mr Boswell, eh? Her ladyship mentioned you just now.

BOSWELL (hopefully) In connection with my wish to join the Guards, sir?

GOULD That's right, sir. But events will render that extremely difficult.

QUEENS. (Excluding Boswell) Because of the peace treaty, eh, Colonel? Pray, what do you really think of it? (Leads Gould away, Boswell bobbing about behind them)

GOULD That it's a damned bad one, to be sure.

QUEENS. Damned bad one? Pray what would you be at? Have we not had all we wanted? Did we not begin the war to settle our boundaries in North America? And have we not got a large area of land ceded to us? (By accident, as he looks about in triumph, Queensberry catches Boswell's eye)

BOSWELL (leaping in) Yes, my lord. Suppose I went out hunting, with the intention of bringing home a hare for dinner, and take three, don't you think that I may also bring home the other two? We have got not only what we intended, but have also picked up some other little things, such as Cuba, Gaudeloupe and so on. I should like to know why we are to part with them.

QUEENSBERRY (to himself while Boswell is talking) Oh, God - I wish he would go hunting. Can't I be rid of him? Can't he plague someone else? (To Boswell as to an idiot) Because the French will not make peace unless we do. And we cannot carry on the war for another year.

GOULD But we can! (He and Queensberry move off arguing)

QUEENS. Lord, sir! We could not raise men for another campaign. Consider how the country has been drained. The Army in Canada is like Jack Falstaff's scarecrows. It is easy to sit by our warm fires here - (into inaudibility, Gould vigorously disagreeing. Boswell stands forlorn amid the gay throng. Eglinton approaches with Lady Mirabel)

EGLINTON What, Jamie? Why so gloomy, man?

BOSWELL (starting from his reverie) Oh, my lord Eglinton! These Great People! They are a sad set of beings.

EGLINTON Why, what's happened? Mark this, Lady Mirabel. The philosopher of Caledonia.

BOSWELL You know, my lord, how much I have been wanting a commission in the Guards. In fact, you suggested it over a year ago.

EGLINTON Aye.

BOSWELL Well, it seems as though I shall never achieve my aims without much grovelling and fawning, being snubbed and rejected, insulted, treated with contempt.

EGLINTON You'll have a deal of that to do before you get what you want, Jamie.

BOSWELL I can believe you, my lord.

LADY MIR. Is this the Mr Boswell you talked of, my lord?

EGLINTON Your pardon, Lady Mirabel. Lady Mirabel Coke, Mr Boswell.

LADY MIR. You don't play cards I see, Mr Boswell.

BOSWELL No, my lady, I never do. But I have a great deal of entertainment just by looking round me.

MAJOR-D His Grace the Duke of Portland.

EGLINTON A man, Jamie, who can be happy thus must be either very stupid or more clever than ordinary.

LADY MIR. Indeed, sir, he must be extremely clever.

BOSWELL But pray don't you find the meetings here of people of fashion very dull? They seldom speak to one. (Eglinton is distracted away by a charming young lady)

LADY MIR. True, but when they do speak, they speak to the purpose.

(Eglinton's lady coquets him)

BOSWELL (glaring at Gould and Queensberry) Do they, indeed? But they lack sentiment.

LADY MIR. And therefore their connections last only the winter. It is different abroad. (Eglinton's young lady draws him aside)

BOSWELL Talking of connections, I must tell you, my lady, I run up and down this town like a wild colt.

LADY MIR. Why, sir, then, don't you stray into my stable, amongst others?

BOSWELL Madam, I shall certainly have that pleasure.

LADY MIR. Then I shall hope to see you again, Mr Boswell. (She extends her hand. Boswell lingers over it. Their eyes meet for a moment. She goes)

MAJOR-D. The Honourable and Reverend Robert Cholomondeley.

(Eglinton, having disengaged himself, strolls back to find Boswell almost leaping for joy)

BOSWELL Now here's a pretty state of affairs, my lord.

EGLINTON Let's have it, Jamie.

BOSWELL What do you say to a young fellow who has the promise of, not one, but two connections this winter, eh?

EGLINTON Who are they? Louisa and - no, not Lady Mirabel?

BOSWELL The very same. (Eglinton bursts into laughter) What have I said, my lord?

EGLINTON Man, she's older than I am. She could almost be your mother.

BOSWELL Is she married?

EGLINTON I believe she has been. Well, you young dog, I wish you well of your intrigues. I know you don't play cards, but you can come and watch me make up a fourth at whist. Who knows, you may commence further - connections!

(Lights fade below and come up above)

OLD BOS. Despite Lady Mirabel's obvious attraction for me, my preoccupation at that time was the development of my connection with Louisa. We had taken tea several times, but I had yet to fulfil my desires, although I seemed to be making inroads upon her reserve. After her morning visit to my rooms I took every opportunity to become better acquainted with her. I was appearing as an agreeable companion to her. I was informing her by my looks of my passion for her, yet I always felt she was playing cat and mouse with me. Once again I called on her at her rooms.

(Lights fade above; below we see Louisa's drawing room. Laughter off. Boswell and Louisa enter)

BOSWELL No, madam, I could never think of having a connection with a woman I didn't love.

LOUISA Well, that would be having a satisfaction in common with the brutes. But where there is a union of minds, that is indeed estimable, don't you think?

BOSWELL Most estimable, madam. A union of minds is to be prized. (Maid enters with tea tray)

LOUISA Do go on, Mr Boswell. I should like to hear your views on love. It is a topic we have not yet explored, isn't it? (Maid arranges tea things and exit during this dialogue. Louisa serves Boswell while listening to him)

BOSWELL (consciously orating) Love, madam, is a power which cannot be controlled by reason. It is a fine passion, a noble passion, a passion which elevates a man from the brute beasts and places him among the angels.

LOUISA Is it, Mr Boswell? A gentleman came here once and talked to me of love, rather as you have. He ended up by offering me fifty pounds to spend a night with him. (Boswell chokes on his tea) But my young brother knocked on the door and the gentleman ran out without another word. So much for your noble passion, Mr Boswell.

BOSWELL Fifty pounds! A pity he never left the money.

LOUISA He was not a philosopher like you, Mr Boswell, or no doubt he would have done, in the hope that it would have melted my heart.

BOSWELL And would it? (She does not reply, but looks archly at him over the rim of her cup) I - I did not mean to impute mercenary motives to you, madam, merely that - well, fifty pounds! I expect to be surprised some night by such an offer from a decent elderly gentlewoman.

LOUISA But not a decent young one?

BOSWELL If she were single. (Pause. Tea is drunk while they size each other up) I hope, madam, that your affections are not engaged.

LOUISA They are not, sir.

BOSWELL Well, this places me in the happy position of being able to confess that my affections are engaged.

LOUISA (coolly) Are they, sir?

BOSWELL Yes, madam, they are engaged to you. (Despite herself, she gives away her agitation) I hope we shall become better acquainted and like one another better.

LOUISA Come, sir, let us talk no more of that now.

BOSWELL What? My temptress of the morning visit, my tease of the bedchamber, blushes?

LOUISA No more, sir, I beg you. This is not teasing in return for my boldness of the other day. I fear you are in earnest.

BOSWELL Never more so, madam. But, as you say, no more now. It would be like giving away the contents of the book in the preface, and spoiling what is to come.

LOUISA Just so, sir. Giving away in the preface what should be in the middle of the book.

BOSWELL Do you know, I was enchanted when I first met you. From the first time I saw you, I was your hopeless admirer.

LOUISA Mr Boswell, please! I asked you to give your views on love, not to practise the art with me.

BOSWELL But I was indeed captivated by you. What I like beyond everything is an agreeable and interesting female companion, where I can be at home.

LOUISA Ah, so you will be merely content with my company?

BOSWELL Yes. Your company - to have tea and enjoy intercourse -

LOUISA What?

BOSWELL Of the conversational kind. I am always happy to be here.

LOUISA (laughing) Sir, you are completely incorrigible. You are welcome here as often as you please. Every evening, if you wish.

BOSWELL Madam, I am infinitely obliged to you. Your humble servant. You will permit me? (Kisses her hand) I hope, madam, that our connection will be more than a mere union of minds.

LOUISA Even though a union of minds is to be prized? A most estimable thing?

BOSWELL It is an ideal, madam. And ideals are often unattainable.

LOUISA A connection such as you desire requires time to establish.

BOSWELL Indeed, madam, for such a connection should be founded upon trust.

LOUISA I agree, sir. Trust between man and woman is a noble thing. Already I feel that I can trust you. I hope that you share such feelings with me.

BOSWELL (heartily) Oh, I do, I do.

LOUISA Then, sir, I wonder if - (hesitates)

BOSWELL Yes?

LOUISA It is something which I should not ask you to do unless I trusted you. Only those who are - intimate - should make the request which I wish to make of you. (Looks ardently at him)

BOSWELL (eagerly) Madam, if it is an act which only those who are intimately connected can indulge -

LOUISA Oh it is, sir. It is!

BOSWELL Then might it not be better to remove from this room to one where we can be more comfortable in our intimacy?

LOUISA (puzzled) Why, sir, you can do it as well here as anywhere else.

BOSWELL (beside himself) Madam, if you insist. (Begins to unbutton his coat and waistcoat)

LOUISA It is, after all, only a trifle.

BOSWELL (dawning realisation that she is not talking about sex) Ah? A trifle?

LOUISA I owe someone a trifling debt.

BOSWELL I - I see. (Sheepishly buttons up)

LOUISA I have been asked for payment, but I cannot just now. I intend to pay in six weeks.

BOSWELL (apprehensively) Pray, madam, what was the sum?

LOUISA Only two guineas, sir.

BOSWELL (in relief) Madam, if I can do you any service, you may command me. Two guineas, apart from a few shillings, is all I have at present, but -

LOUISA In that case, sir, I shall not trouble you.

BOSWELL No, no, madam. I insist. There you are. (Hands over two guineas) Let us be honest with one another. Tell me when you are in any little distress and I will do what I can. Trust, remember.

LOUISA Sir, I am infinitely obliged to you. As soon as it is in my power, I shall return this. Indeed, I ought not to expect it from you.

BOSWELL Madam, though I have but little, you may apply to me for as much as - let us say twenty - no, ten guineas. Yes, ten, ten.

(Louisa sits at her harpsichord and sings the following song)

LOUISA Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry:
Full and fair ones, come and buy:
If so be, you ask me where
They do grow, I answer, "There,
Where my Julia's lips do smile
There's the land, or Cherry Isle:
Whose plantations fully show
All the year, where cherries grow."

(During the song, Boswell can scarcely restrain his obvious desire for her)

BOSWELL "Where my Julia's lips do smile
There's the land, or Cherry Isle."
(Kisses her lips) I trust you will permit me so much liberty, madam.

LOUISA Sir, where my own feelings are concerned, I pay no regard to the opinion of the world.

BOSWELL No, madam, we are not to mind the arbitrary rules imposed by the multitude. (He is virtually engulfing her)

LOUISA (fending him off) Yet, sir, I must take notice of the multitude on whom my bread and butter depend. I must regard public decency.

BOSWELL Certainly, madam. But, with due regard for decency, does this mean that our connection is about to become such as I desire? Does it, madam? My dear Louisa?

LOUISA All I shall say is that I hope to see you tomorrow.

BOSWELL Aye, madam. But will you make me happy? Shall I be permitted the fruition of my desires?

LOUISA I hate to make you rise at false hopes.

BOSWELL Rise? Shall my hopes ever rise at all?

LOUISA Let us hope so, sir.

BOSWELL But when, madam, when?

LOUISA Let us wait till the new year, sir.

BOSWELL That's nearly a month away! How shall I contain myself?

LOUISA Make yourself drunk, sir, or take cold baths.

BOSWELL Louisa, do you promise to make me blessed in the new year? I had thought that we might have progressed further by now.

LOUISA I like it when you call me Louisa.

BOSWELL For God's sake, Louisa! I'm virtually grovelling before you! Stop playing cat and mouse, woman, and give me the answer I desire.

LOUISA If you insist, Mr Boswell.

BOSWELL Then I shall live in constant expectation, and my hopes will continually rise. Your servant, my dear madam. (He bows over her hand. As he does so, the scene is blacked out, and the lights above rise as Old Boswell shouts from above)

OLD BOS. You fool! You damned fool, young Jamie Boswell! (Coughing fit) Could you not see how she led you on? (More coughing and spluttering)

MRS WILKES (off) Did you call, sir? Mr Boswell! Did you call? (Light foot of stairs where she appears) Are you all right? Do you want anything?

OLD BOS. No, Mrs Wilkes. I'm all right. It's just a coughing fit. I'm better now.

MRS WILKES Shall I bring you a hot drink?

OLD BOS. No, thank you. I'm going to have a nap.

MRS WILKES Very well, sir. (Exit)

OLD BOS. Women! When you don't need them they won't keep away. (Yawns) But when you begin to trust them, to rely on them, oh it's a different matter then. (Tiredly) Louisa was no better than the rest. And my Lady Northumberland. How I failed to see through her I'll never know. (Settles himself for sleep) Still, it's all over now. All over. (Nods) Over. (He is dozing. Dream music. Lights remain on above where Old Boswell is dozing and dreaming. Below, the lights fade up on Northumberland House. Lady Northumberland and Boswell are in conversation)

BOSWELL I do assure you, madam, that my desire to join the Guards is merely out of a sense of patriotic duty.

LADY N. I must compliment you on your desires, Mr Boswell.

BOSWELL Nay, madam. I'd make no more of shooting a man that would not die for his country than - (snaps fingers) I believe such a rascal is nothing more than a coward, forsooth! I'd have all such fellows, madam, hanged. Hanged, madam!

LADY N. Surely, sir, that would be too severe, for men do not make themselves, and if fear hat too much ascendancy of the mind, then in my opinion such fellows are more to be pitied than abhorred.

BOSWELL Nay, my lady, such fellows who put not their country's wellbeing before their own are not, I fear, worthy of life in that country.

LADY N. (Rising) My dear Mr Boswell, it is not often that one meets such a fearless young gentleman as yourself. I own I never heard such brave words. (Rings bell) You will stay for some refreshment?

BOSWELL Thank you, madam. It is good of you to give me so much time.

LADY N. La, sir! When you wrote asking to see me, I understood from the tone of your letter that I had to do with a stout young fellow who would fear naught. I find this indeed to be the case.

BOSWELL (impervious to the sarcasm) Thank you, my lady. Deeds are, of course, better than words. Would that an opportunity for deeds would present itself.

LADY N. You never know, Mr Boswell. Some such opportunity may arise. (Looks hard at door. Louder) I hope there may be an opportunity for you to prove yourself. (Picks up a candlestick from the mantelpiece and raps hard with it. A loud, unearthly wailing begins outside the door) Lud preserve us, Mr Boswell! I fear some poor creature is being murdered. (Noise stops)

BOSWELL Nay, madam, 'tis but a mouse.

LADY N. A mouse!

BOSWELL A cat, then, or some such creature. No matter. 'Tis finished. (Wailing begins again. Lady Northumberland takes candlestick and advances on the door) Nay, madam! What are you doing?

LADY N. I am hastening to quell the noise, Mr Boswell. We shall see what kind of noise a cat will make when belaboured with a candlestick.

BOSWELL I may be wrong. It sounds more like a lion or an enraged bull.

LADY N. A bull, sir, in the hall of Northumberland House! (Reaches door)

BOSWELL Madam, have a care! (Lady Northumberland opens door)

LADY N. Jane, what is the meaning of this noise? Come here at once. (Enter the maid sheepishly)

JANE Ma'am, I beg your pardon, but I tripped over the cat.

LADY N. Indeed, Mr Boswell, you were right after all. (Replaces candlestick) Jane, kindly fetch some light refreshments. After such excitement, I feel the need for revival. I am sure Mr Boswell feels the same after his heroic exertions.

BOSWELL (flustered) Madam, I hope you will forgive me, but I have a most urgent appointment, I have this minute remembered, with Lord Eglinton. I am already late. Will you excuse me? Your humble servant. I cannot afford to keep Lord Queensberry waiting.

LADY N. Was it not Lord Eglinton, Mr Boswell?

BOSWELL Of course, madam. Lord Eglinton. But the Guards, my lady? You'll not forget me?

LADY N. Have no fear, Mr Boswell. I shall certainly not forget you. (Boswell bows out. Lady Northumberland collapses giggling onto the sofa as the maid makes to leave) Stay a moment, Jane. You minx, you played your part to perfection.

JANE Thank you, ma'am.

LADY N. Tell me, girl. Whom did you get to make that hideous noise? I own I was almost deceived myself.

JANE Oh, that was Joseph the footman, ma'am.

LADY N. Well, you shall both be rewarded. But mind, not a word to anyone.

JANE No, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.

(Blackout below; lights remain up above. Old Boswell is asleep until a clock nearby strikes seven and wakes him)

OLD BOS. (Half asleep) You'll not forget me, ma'am. You minx, you shall be rewarded. (Awake) What? Ha! Dreaming, Bozzy. Dreaming. (Recovers his journal which has slipped from his knee) Back to the truth. What's this? "When I let Louisa have my last two guineas, I was left with only thirteen shillings. I cast my eye on my old laced hat which I saw would raise me a small supply of cash. No sooner thought than done. Off it went with my sharp penknife. I carried the lace to a jeweller's in Piccadilly and sold it for six and sixpence, which was a great cause of joy to me." It wasn't long after that, as I remember, that I first met Goldsmith and company.

(Fade lights above, light up Child's Coffee House below. Present are Boswell, Goldsmith, Dodsley, Murphy and Davies)

GOLDSMITH ...whereupon the physician put his finger through the latch-hole to open the door. Immediately, the tailor cut the finger off. "Now, sir," he said, "be good enough to put in the other." (Goldsmith laughs heartily at what has been an attempt to tell a joke. The others smile tolerantly)

MURPHY (Irish charm and flamboyance) Very good, Doctor Goldsmith, but I thought we had assembled to talk about literature, as we did yesterday. After all, we have this young gentleman with us today (indicates Boswell) and we must make a good impression.

DAVIES We began to talk about poetry yesterday, I remember. Mr Dodsley, was it not you who mentioned the odes of Gray?

GOLDSMITH Ah, the rumbling thunder! I remember a friend of mine was very fond of Gray. "Yes," said I, "he is very fine indeed, as thus:
Mark the white and mark the red,
Mark the blue and mark the green;
Mark the colours as they fade,
Darting through the welkin sheen."
"Oh yes," said he. "Great, great."
"True, sir," said I, "but I have just made it up." (Genuine laughter from the company this time) Come now, Mr Dodsley, you could not have told that story!

DODSLEY You take the words out of my mouth, Doctor.

BOSWELL What do you think of Mr Johnson, Doctor?

GOLDSMITH (patronisingly) Sam Johnson has exceeding great merit. It is a pity that no university has yet seen fit to award him the doctorate which he surely deserves.

MURPHY (whispers to Boswell) More than some deserve. (Indicates Goldsmith)

DAVIES He is a most entertaining companion. He was dining once with the Mayor of Windsor, who gave him a very hearty dinner, but made the mistake of attempting to feed Mr Johnson's understanding at the same time. After the Mayor had talked a good deal of nonsense, he mentioned that he had recently transported three felons to the plantations. Johnson was so bored by then that he burst out, "I wish to God, sir, I was the fourth!"

BOSWELL I have long admired Mr Johnson and should greatly like to meet him.

DODSLEY Have a care, Mr Boswell. He has a strong prejudice against the Scots.

DAVIES He is a man of strong morality, too. His toleration of debauchery and vice is limited.

MURPHY But you are not a debauchee, Mr Boswell, are you?

BOSWELL I - I must admit I occasionally take pleasure with a wench and once in a while over-indulge the bottle. But I have done neither for a long time.

MURPHY That's no worse than many a man I know.

GOLDSMITH Mr Murphy, as an actor yourself, you will recall that Garrick was once Johnson's pupil.

MURPHY I never knew Johnson taught acting!

GOLDSMITH He didn't. David Garrick was one of Sam Johnson's pupils at Lichfield, where Johnson once kept a school.

DAVIES I believe there were only a handful of pupils there.

GOLDSMITH Yes. Garrick - little wretch that he was - used to spy on Johnson through the bedroom keyhole. Johnson was married then to a much older woman. He used to get out of bed in the morning and stuff his sheets into his breeches.

BOSWELL Why?

GOLDSMITH Why? He thought the sheet was his shirt. He's almost blind, you know.

DODSLEY I hardly think, Doctor Goldsmith, that Mr Johnson's shortness of sight should be a source of amusement.

GOLDSMITH Pooh, man! Johnson is a giant. A little mirth at his expense will do him no harm.

MURPHY Talking of Garrick, tell me, Mr Boswell, where did you find that charming girl?

BOSWELL Mrs Lewis?

MURPHY The very same. She has delighted the Town since she left Covent Garden and joined Garrick at Drury Lane.

BOSWELL I am very much pleased.

DODSLEY What does she play tonight?

GOLDSMITH The Queen in "Hamlet". She's a little young for the part, but carries it off well, I'm told.

BOSWELL Wouldn't she be better as Ophelia?

MURPHY Good God no! She's taller than Garrick. It would look ridiculous.

BOSWELL I shall go tonight and see for myself. Tell me, Doctor, do not you yourself write for the stage...

(Fade lights below: light up Old Boswell above)

OLD BOS. I did go to see Louisa in "Hamlet", a performance which gave me much pleasure. It was with pain, however, that at that time I received another letter from my father. (Lights on Old Boswell remain up: staircase lights to reveal Auchinleck reading over his draft of another letter)

AUCH. James, it has now been brought to my notice that, despite my wishes, you are keeping a journal of your dissipated life in London. I have discovered that you have been sending instalments of it to your friend Mr John Johnston in Edinburgh. I will not trouble you with an account of how certain pages have fallen into my hands except to tell you that your friend was in no way responsible. I am amazed that you should see fit to describe yourself in the following terms.

"He is of an ancient family in the west of Scotland, upon which he values himself not a little. At his nativity there appeared omens of his future greatness. His parts are bright, and his education has been good. He is fond of seeing much of the world. He is of a good manly countenance and he owns himself to be amorous."

I have selected only the less flattering sentiments. I have now wish to repeat the cascade of conceit and puffed-up vanity in which you further describe yourself. I feel that your sojourn in London is doing little good, and have therefore decided that you should go to Holland, a sober and respectable country, and there study the law. I intend to send you abroad as soon as I can make all the necessary preparations. More shall be said to you later. For the present, I remain your affectionate father, Affleck.

(Auchinleck fades from sight and hearing)

OLD BOS. As may be imagined, the threat to send me to Holland concentrated my mind wonderfully. I had but two objects now in view. The first, to meet, and become acquainted with, Samuel Johnson, the foremost literary man in England. The second, to enjoy the person of my charming Louisa. I put into action the more important and pressing plan, leaving the other to a suitable opportunity. It was at one o'clock on the afternoon of New Year's Day, 1763, that I waited on my goddess at her own rooms.

(Fade lights above, light up Louisa's bedchamber below, her curtained bed in the corner. She is sitting sewing. Boswell bursts in)

BOSWELL Madam, forgive my lack of ceremony. May I come in? How are you today?

LOUISA Very well, Mr Boswell. I trust I find you so?

BOSWELL I have been thinking, madam, about our last conversation.

LOUISA Well, sir, I hope you are of my way of thinking.

BOSWELL I hope, madam, you are of mine. I have considered the matter most deeply. The new year is here, and I hope you will not be so cruel as to keep me in misery. Madam, I have suffered enough. Permit me, I beg you. (He launches himself upon her and pulls her onto the sofa)

LOUISA Nay, sir! Now! Do consider -

BOSWELL (burying his face in her bosom) Ah, madam!

LOUISA (giggling) Nay, but you are an encroaching creature. (Boswell gets a hand under her petticoat) Good heavens, sir!

BOSWELL Madam, I cannot help it. I adore you.

LOUISA Oh, Mr Boswell! (Kisses him passionately, pressing him to her bosom)

BOSWELL My dear Louisa, permit me, I beseech you.

LOUISA Lord, sir, the landlady may come in.

BOSWELL That's easily stopped. (He locks the door and seizes her decisively) Now, madam, make me the happiest of men.

LOUISA Mr Boswell, let me ask but one favour.

BOSWELL Name it, my dearest. (Fondling and kissing her)

LOUISA When you cease to care for me, pray don't use me ill or treat me coldly, but inform me by letter or some other way that it is over.

BOSWELL (enmeshed in her) Pray, don't talk of such things. We cannot be responsible for our emotions, but you may depend upon my behaving with civility and politeness. And now - (He leads her to the bed. She draws back the curtains and climbs in. Boswell, pausing only to remove his coat, scrambles in after her. As he closes the curtains, his face is exultant. The bed shakes heavily, then - )

LANDLADY (off, knocking at door) Mrs Lewis! Mrs Lewis! Are you in? (Louisa's terrified face appears between the bed curtains)

BOSWELL (within the curtains) Oh, Fortune! Why does it happen thus?

(Louisa climbs out of bed, frantically buttoning up. She unlocks the door and vanishes. An unintelligible dialogue begins off. Boswell emerges fastening various buttons. He adjusts his breeches and tucks the sheet into them. On getting up, he drags away the sheet. With a muffled exclamation, he readjusts his clothing. Louisa returns)

LOUISA (holding door and speaking to the landlady, off) Yes, I see, I see. (Boswell dives under bed. There is a ceramic clang and a Boswellian oath) Very well, Mrs Toogood, I'll leave all that to you. No, don't trouble yourself. Thank you. (She closes door in relief. Boswell emerges from under bed. Louisa falls into his arms) Oh dear, how hard this is!

BOSWELL Indeed it is, madam! I beg you, see what you can contrive for me.

LOUISA Lord, sir, I'm so frightened.

BOSWELL This frustration cannot go on. You must pass the night with me somewhere.

LOUISA Give me a moment to think. If I'm not wanted at the playhouse the following day -

BOSWELL Saturday night, after the performance! They won't want you on Sunday.

LOUISA You mean this Saturday?

BOSWELL Done! Let us delay no longer the fruition of our desires.

LOUISA But - but where?

BOSWELL The Black Lion. I'll say I have married and my wife is joining me in Town.

LOUISA What name will you give? Your own?

BOSWELL Good Lord no! I have a friend called Digges. I'll pretend to be his cousin.

LOUISA Oh. (Crestfallen) I had hoped - Mrs Boswell, for one night at least.

BOSWELL I can't do that! I'd lose my reputation completely.

LOUISA (small voice) Yes, but - what about my reputation? What if it comes to be known? I'll be ruined. Mr Garrick will dismiss me, my friends will shun me -

BOSWELL (airily) There's nothing to fear. Gallantry comprises every vice. Until Saturday, Louisa. Adieu. (He bends formally over her hand, pauses, kisses her passionately, bows and exit)

LOUISA (apprehensive but anticipatory) Oh, Mr Boswell!

(Blackout. End of Act One)