The Play's the Thing

LOCKHART: All right, you lot. Now we're at a port in Cyprus. We're not in Venice anymore.

COLIN: We were in Ven--? murgh!

(HERMIONE. who has crept up behind him, re-gags COLIN quite efficiently)

LOCKHART: Ah, yes. Thank you, Miss Granger. Get him onstage, would you please? Mr. Creevey, just gurgle whenever you think you have a line.

COLIN: Mmnh!

(COLIN stands on the stage forlornly, where he is joined by SEAMUS, who has taken the part of Montano and joined the bit players since he doesn't have any more lines as Brabantio, and GOYLE, whose scriptbook now sports a cartoony sketch of a teddy bear on the back)

SEAMUS: What from the cape can you discern at sea?

COLIN: Mrff! Gkheee? Ngngh...

SEAMUS: (looks worried and glances offstage at the Luggage, which hasn't
moved to follow him yet) Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?

GOYLE: A... seg-red-ayshon of the Turkish... fleet:
For do but stand up.. on the foaming shore,
The... children bellow...? seems to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shaked surge, with high and... mons-truss mane,
seems to cast water on the... burning beer...
And... quench... the guards of the... ever-fixed pole:
I never did like... mole station view
On the... en-chay-fed... food.

LOCKHART: At least he's trying...

SEAMUS: If that the Turkish fleet
Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd:
It is impossible they bear it out.

(Enter NEVILLE, pale and shaky)

NEVILLE: News, lads our wars are done The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks That their designment halts a noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet?

SEAMUS: How! (a beat, during which he freezes in place, then snaps back into motion) is this true?

NEVILLE: (even shakier) The ship is here put in A Veronesa Michael Cassio Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello Is come on shore the Moor himself at sea And is in full commission here for Cyprus?

SEAMUS: I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.

NEVILLE: (white-faced) But this same Cassio though he speak of comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly And prays the Moor be safe for they were parted With foul and violent tempest?

SEAMUS: (still glancing nervously at the quiescent Luggage every so often)
Pray heavens he be;
For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!
As well to see the vessel that's come in
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
An indistinct regard.

NEVILLE: Come, let's do so For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance?

(NEVILLE runs offstage, still white-faced. Enter HARRY)

HERMIONE: (offstage, consolingly) Oh, Neville, it's not really that bad, is it? You did just fine...

DRACO: (interestedly) When did you eat that, Longbottom?

HERMIONE: ...You're not helping.

DRACO: (insincerely) Sorry.

HARRY: Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,
That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.

SEAMUS: Is he well shipp'd?

DRACO: (offstage, insinuating) Yes, Potter, is he?

HARRY: (ignoring DRACO) His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot
Of very expert and approved allowance;
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.

DRACO: (offstage) That would be a yes, then, would it?

DEAN: (offstage, blushing furiously) I think that's just about enough innuendo out of you for one rehearsal, Malfoy!

(DRACO laughs. Enter CRABBE, whose script is now covered in blue ink drawings of daisies)

CRABBE: Duhhh.

HARRY: ... Was that his line?

LOCKHART: Pretend it was, Mr. Potter, and let's keep on.

HARRY: (clears throat) What noise?

CRABBE: (looking at his drawings) A ship. Look.

HARRY: (gives CRABBE a look, then glances offstage at DRACO, who shrugs) ... My hopes do shape him for the governor.

(From offstage, the sound of cannon fire is heard. Everyone onstage jumps and looks offstage. LOCKHART waves, twirling his wand)

LOCKHART: We must have some cues, you know.

RON: (muttering to himself) Lucky you didn't blow somebody's head off, you git.

GOYLE: They do... discharge their shot of... coo-ur-tessy:
Our... friends at least.

HARRY: I pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

GOYLE: Okay.

(Exit GOYLE)

SEAMUS: (relaxed now) But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

RON: Better not be....

(A nervous giggle from GINNY)

HARRY: (moving on quickly) Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid
That paragons description and wild fame;
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in the essential vesture of creation
Does tire the ingener.
(reenter GOYLE, who has added another daisy to his script)
How now! who has put in?

GOYLE: (speaking slowly and carefully, without looking at his script) 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

(GOYLE looks offstage at DRACO, who nods briefly. GOYLE looks relieved)

HARRY: Has had most favourable and happy speed:
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands--
Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,--
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.

(GINNY, offstage, blushes and bats her eyes)

SEAMUS: What is she?

DRACO: (offstage) Another very good question...

HARRY: She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits
And bring all Cyprus comfort!
(Enter DRACO, HERMIONE, GINNY, RON, and the Luggage posing as an attendant. SEAMUS edges away)
O, behold,
The riches of the ship is come on shore!
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round!

GINNY: (blushing) I...um... I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?

HARRY: He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught
But that he's well and will be shortly here.
(muttering) I hope.

GINNY: O, but I fear--How lost you company?

HARRY: The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail.

(The sound of cannons is heard again. This time no one jumps)

COLIN: Mrgghrd! MmmMhn!

GOYLE: This... like-wise... is a friend.

HARRY: See for the news.
(Exit GOYLE, dragging the still-gagged COLIN with him. SEAMUS looks his script over and follows)
Good ancient, you are welcome.

RON: (under his breath) Now there's acting. (HERMIONE kicks him discreetly)

HARRY: (to HERMIONE) Welcome, mistress.
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.
(thinks for a minute, then gives her a quick kiss)

DRACO: (grinning) Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'll have enough.

GINNY: Alas, she has no speech.

DRACO: (shakes his head ruefully) In faith, too much;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.

HERMIONE: (in hurt tones) You have little cause to say so.

DRACO: (playfully) Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds.

LOCKHART: And back we are to the actual acting. Very nice, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy.

GINNY: O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

SEAMUS: (offstage) Which one?

DRACO: Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:
You rise to play and go to bed to work.

HERMIONE: (huffily) You shall not write my praise.

DRACO: (aggreeably) No, let me not.

GINNY: What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst
praise me?

DRACO: O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
For I am nothing, if not critical.

RON: (aside to HARRY) And the next contestant is Draco Malfoy; special subject, the bloody obvious....

GINNY: (pleadingly) Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour?

DRACO: (rolls his eyes) Ay, madam.

GINNY: I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

DRACO: (snappish) I am about it; but indeed my invention
Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;
It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,
And thus she is deliver'd.
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.

GINNY: Well praised! How if she be black and witty?

SEAMUS: (offstage) Coffee?

DRACO: If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

SEAMUS: That was gonna be my next guess.

GINNY: Worse and worse.

HERMIONE: How if fair and foolish?

COLIN: (offstage) Nrg!

DRACO: She never yet was foolish that was fair;
For even her folly help'd her to an heir.

GINNY: These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i'
the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for
her that's foul and foolish?

SEAMUS: (offstage) This I gotta hear.

DRACO: There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

SEAMUS: (offstage) Short and incomprehensible. Anyone else follow that?

(The Luggage moves offstage and goes to stand behind SEAMUS. It yawns)

SEAMUS: (jittery) I'll... um... I'll be shutting up now.

GINNY: O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.
But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her
merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?

DRACO: (ticks items off on his fingers thoughtfully)
She that was ever fair and never proud,
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,'
She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
She that in wisdom never was so frail
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following and not look behind,
She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--

GINNY: (curious) To do what?

DEAN: (offstage) I can think of a few things....

DRACO: To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.

DEAN: (offstage) And those weren't any of them.

GINNY: O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn
of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say
you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal
counsellor?

COLIN: (offstage) Mrgh... nghoh? Mrghi? Nuh?!

HARRY: He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in
the soldier than in the scholar.

DRACO: (aside, gleefully) He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,
whisper: with as little a web as this will I
ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon
her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had
been better you had not kissed your three fingers so
oft, which now again you are most apt to play the
sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers
to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!

(The Luggage yawns again and bumps into SEAMUS. He shrieks and bolts across the stage)

DRACO: (stifling a snicker) The Moor! I know his trumpet.

HARRY: (looking like he wants to laugh) 'Tis truly so.

GINNY: Let's meet him and receive him.

HARRY: Lo, where he comes!

(Enter DEAN, the now-recovered NEVILLE who goes white-faced again almost immediately, and the gagged COLIN)

DEAN: (to GINNY) O my fair warrior!

GINNY: My dear Othello!

DEAN: It gives me wonder great as my content
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus-high and duck again as low
As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

GINNY: (bats her eyes at him) The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase,
Even as our days do grow!

DEAN: Amen to that, sweet powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content;
It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
(kisses her. RON clenches his fists)
That e'er our hearts shall make!

DRACO: (Aside) O, you are well tuned now!
But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.

DEAN: Come, let us to the castle.
News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd.
How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more, well met at Cyprus.

(Exit DEAN and GINNY, holding hands, then HARRY and HERMIONE. NEVILLE follows along with COLIN)

DRACO: (conspiratorially, to RON) Do thou meet me presently at the harbour.
Come hither. If thou be'st valiant,-- as, they say, base men being in love
have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them--list
me. The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard:--first, I must
tell thee this--Desdemona is directly in love with him.

RON: (still fuming about DEAN and GINNY) With him! why, 'tis not possible.

DRACO: Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,
but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies:
and will she love him still for prating? let not
thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;
and what delight shall she have to look on the
devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of
sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to
give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour,
sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which
the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these
required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will
find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,
disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will
instruct her in it and compel her to some second
choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most
pregnant and unforced position--who stands so
eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio
does? a knave very voluble; no further
conscionable than in putting on the mere form of
civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing
of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a
finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never
present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the
knave is handsome, young, and hath all those
requisites in him that folly and green minds look
after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman
hath found him already.

HARRY: (offstage, staring at DRACO) You were right, Hermione... he is
perfect for that part....

HERMIONE: Of course.

RON: I cannot believe that in her; she's full of
most blessed condition.

DRACO: Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of
grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never
have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou
not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst
not mark that?

RON: (confused, finally in his role) Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.

DRACO: Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue
to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met
so near with their lips that their breaths embraced
together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these
mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes
the master and main exercise, the incorporate
conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I
have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night;
for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows
you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find
some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking
too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what
other course you please, which the time shall more
favourably minister.

RON: Well....

DRACO: (persuasively, laying a hand on RON's shoulder) Sir, he is rash and
very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke him, that he
may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose
qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of
Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I
shall then have to prefer them; and the impediment most profitably removed,
without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity.

RON: (nods) I will do this, if I can bring it to any
opportunity.

DRACO: I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:
I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.

RON: Adieu.

(Exit Ron, who once off the stage shakes his head)

RON: Umm... what just happened?

HERMIONE: (helpfully) You just agreed to help kill Harry.

RON: What?!

LOCKHART: Acting. It's acting. This is a play.

HARRY: (offstage, under his breath and still staring at DRACO) Says you.

DRACO: That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin,
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
And nothing can or shall content my soul
Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife,
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--
For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--
Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
For making him egregiously an ass
And practising upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:
Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used.

Exit DRACO. HARRY pulls him off to the side and they have a quiet conversation)

COLIN: Frrp. Mnr gn kjh!

LOCKHART: Someone ungag him. I think he's learned his lesson.