I Am Shakespeare

Mark Rylance

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781780011691
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

A fascinating, witty and characteristically exuberant dramatic exploration of the Shakespeare authorship debate.

Is it possible that the son of an illiterate tradesman, from a small market town in Warwickshire, could have written the greatest dramatic works the world has ever seen? It's a question that has puzzled scholars, theatre practitioners and theatregoers for many years. The philosopher, Francis Bacon; the Earl of Oxford, Edward de Vere; and Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke: all of them have been put forward as the real author of the plays. But why would they hide behind an anonymous actor? Who was the real Bard of Stratford? Why should we care?

Mark Rylance is one of a number of leading actors who seriously question the idea that William Shakespeare was the man behind the thirty-seven plays that have moved, inspired and amazed generations.

First performed at Chichester Festival Theatre in 2007, Rylance's provocative play introduces us to four candidates and their respective claims - whilst asking fundamental questions about what makes a genius, and why it all matters anyway.

'Witty, gloriously funny and wonderfully well-written... the best thing I have seen for years' The Stage

ACT ONE

Scene One

Frank Arrives for His Weekly Broadcast

A driveway and garage in Maidstone, Kent.

Early evening. The present.

It’s raining hard as FRANK CHARLTON arrives on his bicycle, sheltering a large pile of school papers for correction under his plastic poncho. He is all flashing lights and reflector strips. Inside the garage, the phone on his desk is ringing, and then the answerphone message can be heard.

FRANK. Oh God.

As FRANK enters the garage we hear his neighbour, BARRY, leaving a message.

BARRY (on answerphone). Hello, Frank. Are you there?

FRANK chooses not to pick up the phone.

FRANK. Barry, I told you not to use the chat-show hotline.

BARRY. I know you told me not to ring on your chat-show hotline. Are you there? I’ve left some tunes on my Korg for the opening theme. They’re in the keyboard memory under ‘Chat-room-Garage-Music 1590’s style’; one, two, and three. This rain’s pouring all over my conservatory. There’s leaks everywhere. So I’ve got to get up to the drains and clear them out. Live up. Bazza. Hope the jokes work.

FRANK gathers his school papers into a pile and hurries to prepare himself and the garage, multitasking at great speed. Possible tasks include:

Audibly searching through the Korg keyboard for the opening theme music.

Hearing and rejecting BARRY’s suggested music for the opening of his chat show.

Changing from his rain poncho and worn grey teaching suit into his host clothes; the blue Who’s There? T-shirt.

Selecting and arranging the books and notes for the show.

Practising parts of his opening gambit out loud, ‘Stratfordians!’, etc.

Clearing boxes from the guest seating, weekend gardening debris, and tools, off the visible set.

Setting up the Minerva Britannia curtain frame on the desk and other props. And then focusing the web cameras and lights.

Lowering the painted backdrop tied to a ceiling crossbar, behind his desk.

Finally putting on his Steve Allen-style, chat-show glasses, and sitting.

While FRANK desperately sets all this up, the chat-show phone rings again on his chat-show desk and he eventually, in great frustration, answers it. A fast T-Mobile salesman from Madras is on the line. We hear the conversation, as we have heard BARRY’s message over the chat-show’s phone speaker.

FRANK. Barry. That music is wrong. I said classic tunes…

SALESMAN. Is that Mrs Carlton?

FRANK. Oh. No, this is Frank Charlton and you’re through to Who’s There? The International Shakespeare Authorship show. We’re not live on air, but what’s your question?

SALESMAN. Hello. Are you Mr Carlton?

FRANK. Charlton. Yes, Frank Charlton.

SALESMAN. All right, Frank. Are you having good weather there, Frank?

FRANK. No, it’s dreadful, raining. Why, what’s the weather like where you are?

SALESMAN. Here, it’s very hot and lovely, thank you very much, Frank.

FRANK. Hot and lovely. Where are you?

SALESMAN. Madras.

FRANK. Madras. What is this, some kind of sales pitch?

SALESMAN. No, Frank, this is a free package offer.

FRANK. How did you get this number?

SALESMAN. All right, Frank, you are on our list, Frank.

FRANK. Please don’t call me Frank. You don’t even know me.

SALESMAN. Yes, I do, Frank.

FRANK. What colour hair have I got?

SALESMAN. Dark hair.

FRANK. You’re just guessing. This is the problem with the whole world. No one knows anyone else. We meet at the end of wires, and guess about each other.

SALESMAN. Frank. If you purchased a mobile phone, you would meet people without wires.

FRANK. I don’t want to buy a mobile phone. Don’t call me Frank. You know nothing about me. You just think you know me because of something someone else has written about me on some list, which you have taken for granted to be true. You’re probably a Stratfordian.

SALESMAN. What’s a Stratfordian?

FRANK. A Stratfordian? A Stratfordian is someone who believes that the actor from Stratford-upon-Avon wrote Love’s Labour’s Lost, for example.

SALESMAN. Didn’t he?

FRANK. Exactly. Why do you think that? Because someone told you to think that. Did you ever question it? No. You just bought it hook, line and sinker. Have you ever wondered how the man from Stratford could possibly have written Love’s Labour’s Lost?

SALESMAN. No. How could he have done it?

FRANK. With extreme difficulty, I would imagine, when he has only just arrived in London, from God knows where, so how could he have ever developed the vocabulary and wit and learning of a university-educated playwright? How could he have learnt such intimate details of the Royal Court of Navarre in France?

SALESMAN. I don’t know. I never thought about it, Frank. It sounds impossible.

FRANK. Well, there you are. You never thought about it.

SALESMAN. Yes, I see. That’s amazing. Frank, you’ve convinced me.

FRANK. Really?

SALESMAN. Yes. Frank. Love’s Labour’s Lost is very like Friends, isn’t it?

FRANK. Friends?

SALESMAN. Yes. You know you can watch Friends on your T-Mobile network phone for only sixteen pounds ninety-nine pence a month.

FRANK hangs up. We hear the chimes of six o’clock.

Scene Two

The Big Secret Chat-Show Opening Gambit

As FRANK hangs up the telephone, the clock strikes the hour.

We see FRANK hurriedly prepare to start the show. He turns the camera on and a dark picture appears on the internet screens hanging above the set in the theatre.

From behind the proscenium, his arm reaches out quickly through the curtain with a remote control that he aims at the CD player and the lights. Pre-arranged theme music begins to play, and lights come up on the proscenium and curtain that FRANK has placed on his desk. The image appears on the screens above.

FRANK’s hand and arm, in an Elizabethan sleeve with lace, extends through the curtain holding a feather, as if to complete the writing on the scroll of parchment before him.

He begins to speak ominously in two voices from behind the curtain, while he points with the feather to the Latin heraldry around the frame. The two voices are his imagination of an actor speaking the first line in Hamlet and his own host voice.

FRANK. Who’s there?

Pointing to ‘MENTE VIDEBORI’.

Mente Videbori! By the mind I shall be seen!

NAY ANSWER ME?

Pointing to ‘VIVITUR IN GENIO’.

Vivitur in Genio! One lives in one’s genius.

STAND AND UNFOLD YOURSELF!

Pointing to ‘CAETERA MORTIS ERUNT’, with the help of his other modern arm as he can’t reach round with the Elizabethan arm.

Caetera Mortis Erunt! All else passes away.

Opening the curtain and sticking his head through.

Ladies and gentlemen, wherever you are on the World Wide Web, you come most carefully upon your hour, for ’tis now struck six, and ’tis time to welcome each and every one of you to another international broadcast of Who’s There? The only live internet chat-room show that dares to ask the question ‘Who really wrote the plays of William Shakespeare?’ The first in our brand-new season.

FRANK presses an applause pedal with his foot, and blackout with his remote. Music swells. In the darkness, FRANK lifts the prop curtain frame out off the desk. He sits down, straightens himself and brings up the show lighting state while also fading the music with another remote. Running across the top of the screen or appearing at intervals are the words:

‘Don’t be like the rest – silent. You can call or text Frank right now on 0845-475-1564.’

‘I want to hear your views! Calls are charged at local rates.’

FRANK reads from cards like David Letterman.

Hello. I’m Frank Charlton, your host tonight.

FRANK starts mystery music and points to a list of name...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Introduction
• Production Note
• Characters and Original Production
• Act One
• Act Two
• Parallelisms Between the Writing of Bacon and Shakespeare
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information