The Play's the Thing

LOCKHART: Inside the castle now, for the benefit of those who have yet to open their scripts. Mr. Creevey, Mr. Crabbe, that means you.

(Enter DEAN, GINNY, HARRY, a subdued COLIN, and GOYLE)

DEAN: Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:
Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
Not to outsport discretion.

HARRY: Iago hath direction what to do;
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to't.

DRACO: (offstage) Will you? How nice...

DEAN: Iago is most honest.
Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest
Let me have speech with you.

DRACO: Weren't you the one who said there'd been enough innuendo?

DEAN: (ignores DRACO. To GINNY) Come, my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
Good night.

(Exit all but HARRY, who sits crosslegged on the stage. Enter DRACO, who sits next to him without hesitation)

HARRY: Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.

DEAN: (offstage, rolling his eyes. Imitates HARRY) In a few minutes, that is.... (Both boys onstage ignore him) Hello? Anyone paying attention?

DRACO: Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the
clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love
of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame:
he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and
she is sport for Jove.

HARRY: She's a most exquisite lady.

DRACO: And, I'll warrant her, full of game.

HARRY: (smiling slightly) Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.

DRACO: (leaning back casually) What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation.

HARRY: ...An *inviting* eye... and yet methinks right modest.

DRACO: And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?

HARRY: (beat, then smiles more broadly) She is indeed perfection.

DRACO: Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I
have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace
of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to
the health of black Othello.

HARRY: (sighs) Not tonight, good Iago: I have very poor and
unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish
courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.

DRACO: (persuasively0 O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for you.

HARRY: I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was
craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation
it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
and dare not task my weakness with any more.

DRACO: (laughs) What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants desire it.

HARRY: Where are they?

DRACO: Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.

HARRY: (frowns at DRACO) I'll do't, but it dislikes me.

(He gets up and exits, looking irritated)

DRACO: If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,
Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch:
Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
That hold their honours in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,
Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
Am I to put our Cassio in some action
That may offend the isle.--But here they come:
If consequence do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

(Reenter HARRY, with SEAMUS, COLIN, and NEVILLE following. NEVILLE is carrying a pitcher containing what is probably pumpkin juice)

HARRY: 'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.

SEAMUS: Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier.

DRACO: Some wine, ho! (NEVILLE passes over the pitcher. DRACO sings)
And let me the canakin clink, clink;
And let me the canakin clink
A soldier's a man;
A life's but a span;
Why, then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!

HERMIONE: (offstage) Where'd he learn to sing like that?

HARRY: (appreciative) 'Fore God, an excellent song.

DRACO: I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are
most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and
your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing
to your English.

HARRY: (completely straight-faced) Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?

DRACO: Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead
drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he
gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
can be filled.

HARRY: To the health of our general!

SEAMUS: I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.

(In passing the pitcher, NEVILLE spills it all over COLIN)

DRACO: (singing again) O sweet England!
King Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he call'd the tailor lown.
He was a wight of high renown,
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis pride that pulls the country down;
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
Some wine, ho!

HARRY: Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

DRACO: ...Will you hear't again?

HARRY: No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that
does those things. Well, God's above all; and there
be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

(The bit players look confused. DRACO just nods)

DRACO: It's true, good lieutenant.

DRACO: And so do I too, lieutenant.

HERMIONE: (frowns, then speaks to RON) I don't think they're talking about what we think they're talking about....

RON: Tell me what they're supposed to be talking about, and I'll agree or disagree with you then.

HERMIONE: (exasperated) You're hopeless.

HARRY: Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the
lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive
us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk: this is my
ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left:
I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and
speak well enough.

(There are varying degrees of agreement among the others onstage. COLIN looks around, confused)

COLIN: It's only pumpkin juice, Harry...

HARRY: (deadpan) Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.

(DRACO suppresses a laugh, but COLIN looks relieved)

COLIN: That's all right then.

(Exit HARRY, laughing to himself)

SEAMUS: To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.

DRACO: (shakes his head) You see this fellow that is gone before;
He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
And give direction: and do but see his vice;
'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him.
I fear the trust Othello puts him in.
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

COLIN: Huh?

SEAMUS: But is he often thus?

DRACO: 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
He'll watch the horologe a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.

COLIN: But... but it's pumpkin juice!

SEAMUS: It were well
The general were put in mind of it.
Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

(Enter RON)

DRACO: (Aside to him) How now, Roderigo!
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.

(Exit RON)

RON: Why did I even bother going onstage?

LOCKHART: It's in the script, Mr. Weasley.

RON: Like that's a good excuse. Don't you think I have better things to do than read the script?

LOCKHART: I'm sure you think you do.

SEAMUS: And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place as his own second
With one of an ingraft infirmity:
It were an honest action to say
So to the Moor.

DRACO: Not I, for this fair island:
I do... love Cassio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise?,/p>

(Sounds of a scuffle from offstage. RON enters at a dead run, followed closely by an obviously angry HARRY)

RON: I'm sorry! All right? I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!!

HARRY: You rogue! you rascal!

SEAMUS: What's the matter... lieutenant?

HARRY: A knave teach me my duty?
I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle!

RON: Beat me?!

HARRY: Dost thou prate, rogue?

(HARRY backhands RON across the face. Silence falls for a beat. All the others are looking at HARRY, completely shocked, except DRACO, who looks impressed)

SEAMUS: (desperately) Hey! (takes hold of HARRY's arm and holds him back) Stop it!

HARRY: Let me go, sir,
Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

SEAMUS: (the light of understanding dawns in his eyes) Come, come, you're drunk.

HARRY: Drunk!

(HARRY and SEAMUS proceed to fight. SEAMUS trips over the forgotten pitcher)

DRACO: (Aside to RON) Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny. And read the script, Weasley, you're getting embarrassing.

(Exit RON, massaging his face. DRACO moves over to hold HARRY back in something approximating a half-nelson. COLIN looks even more confused than ever)

COLIN: But... but it was just pumpkin juice!

DRACO: (alternating to HARRY and the other actors at large)
Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--
Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir;
Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed!
(a bell rings)
Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!
The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!
You will be shamed for ever.

(Enter DEAN, flanked by CRABBE and GOYLE. GOYLE waves at DRACO, who ignores him)

DEAN: What is the matter here?

RON: (offstage, angrily) My best friend just hit me in the face, that's what's wrong!

LOCKHART: (breezily) It was in the script, Mr. Weasley.

RON: Easy for you to say. You aren't going to have half your face a bruise tomorrow!

SEAMUS: 'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.

(SEAMUS collapses to the ground. NEVILLE goes immediately white, gives HARRY a terrified look and dashes offstage)

COLIN: But... but....

DEAN: Hold, for your lives!

(DRACO is still holding HARRY in the half-nelson, although HARRY has stopped struggling)

DRACO: Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,--
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

DEAN: Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.

DRACO: (releases HARRY and steps forward, looking earnest)
I do not know: friends all but now, even now,
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--
As if some planet had unwitted men--
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds;
And would in action glorious I had lost
Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

DEAN: How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

HARRY: (sulky) I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.

DEAN: Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;
The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter,
That you unlace your reputation thus
And spend your rich opinion for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

SEAMUS: Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
Your officer, Iago, can inform you,--
While I spare speech, which something now offends me,--
Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
By me that's said or done amiss this night;
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a sin
When violence assails us.

RON: Violence asssailed me too, and just see if anyoboy cares about that!

COLIN: But... but... Seamus, you're not hurt at all! Stop fooling around now, this is creepy!

DEAN: Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
And passion, having my best judgment collied,
Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on;
And he that is approved in this offence,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel,
In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't?

(DRACO looks away. SEAMUS gets to his feet)

SEAMUS: If partially affined, or leagued in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.

DRACO: (defensively) Touch me not so near:
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow crying out for help:
And Cassio following him with determined sword,
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out--
The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night
I ne'er might say before. When I came back--
For this was brief--I found them close together,
At blow and thrust; even as again they were
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report:
But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
From him that fled some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.

LOCKHART: Well, except for Mr. Creevey's occasional interjections... whose idea was it to ungag him again?.. this has been the best scene yet, I think.

HERMIONE: I suppose... but wasn't Harry supposed to be pulling his punches when he hit Ron?

LOCKHART: Your point?

DEAN: I know, Iago,
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee
But never more be officer of mine.
(Enter GINNY, followed by HERMIONE, who glares at HARRY)
Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!
I'll make thee an example.

GINNY: (overacting sleepy) What's the matter?

DEAN: All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:
Lead him off.
(SEAMUS is picked up by CRABBE and GOYLE, one on either side, and carried offstage)
Iago, look with care about the town,
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.

COLIN: (wailing) I don't understand! It was just pumpkin juice! What's going on?

(HARRY flops into a sitting position on the ground, looking depressed)

DRACO: What, are you hurt...lieutenant?

HARRY: Ay, past all surgery.

RON: (offstage) Oh, that's rich. I've got a black eye, and he's hurt?

DRACO: Marry, heaven forbid!

HARRY: Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost
my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
Iago, my reputation!

DRACO: (laughs in relief) As I am an honest man, I thought you had
received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in
reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition: oft got
without merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation
at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there are
ways to recover the general again: you are but now cast in his mood, a
punishment more in policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his
offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue to him again, and he's
yours.

HARRY: I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so
good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so
indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot?
and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse
fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible
spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
let us call thee devil!

DRACO: (curiously) What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?

HARRY: ...I know not.

SEAMUS: Do any of us believe that?

DRACO: Is't possible?

COLIN: (offstage) But... but... (sounds of another scuffle, ending with COLIN gagged once again) Mmnf!

HARRY: I remember... a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men
should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away
their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance
revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

DRACO: Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?

HERMIONE: (offstage, darkly, reading her script) That's what I'd like to know....

HARRY: It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place
to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me
another, to make me frankly despise myself.

RON: A likely story.

DRACO: Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time,
the place, and the condition of this country
stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;
but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

RON: (theatrically) The world will now end... Draco Malfoy is lecturing someone on morality.

HARRY: I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me
I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra,
such an answer would stop them all. To be now a
sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a
beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is
unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.

DRACO: Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
And, good lieutenant... I think you think I love you.

RON: (desperately) Hermione? Tell me that was in the script. Hermione? Please?

HERMIONE: Honestly, Ron. Of course it was.

COLIN: Mrgh! Bbthppt! Rfhgt!

HARRY: ...I have well approved it.

DRACO: Now, you or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man.
I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife
is now the general: may say so in this respect, for
that he hath devoted and given up himself to the
contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and
graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune
her help to put you in your place again: she is of
so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more
than she is requested: this broken joint between
you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my
fortunes against any lay worth naming, this
crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

HARRY: You advise me well.

SEAMUS: (singsong) That's what you think.

DRACO: I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.

RON: (offstage, to HERMIONE) You know, you're right. He has to be a good actor not to choke on a line like that.

HARRY: I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will
beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me:
I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here.

DRACO: You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch.

DRACO: And what's he then that says I play the villain?
When this advice is free I give and honest,
Probal to thinking and indeed the course
To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
The inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the god
With his weak function. How am I then a villain
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
When devils will the blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
As I do now: for whiles this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
That she repeals him for her body's lust;
And by how much she strives to do him good,
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
And out of her own goodness make the net
That shall enmesh them all.
(Enter RON, looking unhappy about not catching HARRY before he had to come onstage) How now, Roderigo!

RON: I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that
hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well
cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall
have so much experience for my pains, and so, with
no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.

DRACO: How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone.

(Exit RON, muttering)

RON: What is this? I come onstage only to be insulted, to be a servant, or to have people punch me in the face.

LOCKHART: (wearily) It's called acting, Mr. Weasley. You have to suffer for your craft.

RON: Well, why do I have to suffer for everyone else's craft, too?

DRACO: Two things are to be done:
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
I'll set her on;
Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way
Dull not device by coldness and delay.

(Exit DRACO)

COLIN: Mmhfgsk madfaksd lkhgh! Aaaa!

HERMIONE: (taking off gag) What?

COLIN: It was only pumpkin juice, Hermione. What am I missing?

DRACO: (offhandedly) A brain, for one.

COLIN: That wasn't nice....