King Charles III E-Book

Mike Bartlett

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 109

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Mike Bartlett's 'future history play' explores the people beneath the crowns, the unwritten rules of our democracy, and the conscience of Britain's most famous family. Queen Elizabeth II is dead. After a lifetime of waiting, her son ascends the throne. A future of power. But how to rule? Drawing on the style and structure of a Shakespearean history play, King Charles III opened at London's Almeida Theatre, directed by its Artistic Director Rupert Goold, in April 2014, before transferring to the West End. The play went on to win Best New Play at both the Critics' Circle Theatre Awards and the Olivier Awards. It also won the South Bank Sky Arts Theatre Award.

Leseprobe

Mike Bartlett

KING CHARLES III

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Thanks

Dedication

Characters

Note on Text

King Charles III

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

King Charles III was first performed at the Almeida Theatre, London, on 3 April 2014 and transferred to the Wyndham’s Theatre, London, on 2 September 2014. The cast was as follows:

CHARLESTim Pigott-SmithSARAH/GHOST/TELEVISION PRODUCERKatie BraybenWILLIAMOliver ChrisHARRYRichard GouldingSPENCER/NICK/SIR GORDONNyasha HatendiMR EVANSAdam JamesCAMILLAMargot LeicesterCOOTSY/CLIVE/SIR MICHAELTom RobertsonMR STEVENSNicholas RoweJAMES REISSNick SampsonJESSTafline SteenKATELydia WilsonMUSICIANSBelinda Sykes,Anna-Helena McLean

From 8 September there was the following cast change:

JAMES REISSMiles Richardson

Director

Rupert Goold

DesignerTom ScuttComposerJocelyn PookLighting DesignerJon ClarkSound DesignerPaul ArdittiCasting DirectorJoyce NettlesAssociate DirectorWhitney MoseryMovement DirectorAnna MorrisseyMusical DirectorBelinda SykesAssociate Lighting DesignerPeter HarrisonAssociate Sound DesignerChristopher ReidAssistant DirectorJessica EdwardsVoice and Text CoachAlison Bomber

Sonia Friedman Productions, Stuart Thompson Productions and Almeida Theatre, in association with Lee Dean and Charles Diamond and Tulchin Bartner Productions present the Almeida Theatre production.

Thanks

Thanks to Tom Dingle and the Jersey Arts Trust, Jonny Donahoe, Rupert Goold, James Grieve, Headlong, Robert Icke, Clare Lizzimore, George Perrin, Ben Power and Tom Scutt.

M.B.

For Samuel

Characters

KING CHARLES III

CAMILLA, DUCHESS OF CORNWALL

WILLIAM, DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE

CATHERINE (KATE), DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE

PRINCE HENRY OF WALES (HARRY)

JAMES REISS

MR EVANS, Prime Minister

SPENCER

COOTSY

JESS

MR STEVENS, Leader of the Opposition

GHOST

SARAH

NICK

CLIVE

SERVANT

PAUL

SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE

FREE-NEWSPAPER WOMAN

TERRY

SIR GORDON

BUTLER

SIR MICHAEL

TELEVISION PRODUCER

ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY

And CLUBBERS, ATTENDANTS, MEMBERS OF

PARLIAMENT, COMMUTERS, PROTESTERS, MEMBERS

OF THE PRESS

Note on Text

( – ) means the next line interrupts.

(…) at the end of a speech means it trails off. On its own it indicates a pressure, expectation or desire to speak.

A line with no full stop at the end indicates that the next speech follows on immediately.

Prologue

A choir sings.

The funeral procession of Queen Elizabeth II goes past.

ACT ONE

1.1

Enter CAMILLA, Duchess of Cornwall, and KING CHARLES III.

CAMILLA.

My wond’rous Charles you looked composed throughout

You did her proud, for as she would have liked

You never showed your pain, but stood instead

A virtuous man of dignity and grace.

Immovable, inscrutable as stone.

CHARLES.

Please don’t. It’s simply what I had to do.

We’ll find no dignity in cov’ring up

The way we feel. What son should, standing

Waiting at his mother’s grave, stop his tears?

CAMILLA.

Are you alright?

CHARLES.

My whole existence has like most of us

Been built upon the ones who gave me birth.

And now they’re gone. That’s it. First Dad. Now Mum.

The only truth: I am alone.

CAMILLA.

                                 Except for me.

CHARLES.

It’s not the same, Camilla. The love, with us,

It’s all my life, but never can replace

Parental word, a mother’s hand to hold.

But here – the others – back to statue –

It’s Catherine, and William.

Enter WILLIAM, DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE and CATHERINE, DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE.

Hello! You’re radiant, despite the grave

Restrictions of the mourning dress. It is

Your gift my dear, it’s what you’ve brought to us.

A sense of fashion, better hair as well.

KATE.

I never thought I’d see her pass away

CHARLES.

I felt the same.

WILLIAM.

                  How are you Dad?

CHARLES.

…

WILLIAM.

It must be hard to deal with loss combined

With gain. For soon, at last, you will be King

CAMILLA.

Not soon.

WILLIAM.

            Three months –

CAMILLA.

                              Your father rules today.

KATE.

I thought the coronation marked the change

CHARLES.

You’re right, officially that is the case –

CAMILLA.

But England, Scotland, Northern Ireland

They cannot stand without a king or queen

For all the months it takes to organise

A coronation –

WILLIAM.

                  Wales.

CAMILLA.

                           Wales what?

WILLIAM.

                                    Wales too.

You missed it out.

CAMILLA.

Then Wales. As well. And Wales!

KATE.

But surely constitutionally speaking –

CAMILLA.

Oh sweet my dear we have no constitution

Instead Tradition holds us to account.

KATE.

Tradition then, it still –

CAMILLA.

Tradition holds that on the death of kings

Or queens, the next is monarch straight away.

He needs no proclamation, needs no man

To shout ‘The Queen is dead, long live the King’.

Your father ruled the moment Granny passed.

KATE.

So coronation day itself is just

The ancient costumes worn, and lines to learn,

A slice of theatre, that’s played for fun?

CHARLES.

Not fun I think, for me, I hate those things.

HARRY enters.

CAMILLA.

Harry! It’s such a joy to have you home.

Even in such morbid circumstance as this.

HARRY.

I might head off. If that’s okay? I know there’s this thing,

but I’m tired.

CHARLES.

You want to go? Of course, we’ll say you’re ill, if that’s –

HARRY.

Yeah right, that’s it, I don’t feel well. Yeah.

CAMILLA.

Why? What’s the matter?

HARRY.

Er… Headache? But that was all good wasn’t it? It went okay, from what I could see?

KATE.

Do you really have to go?

HARRY.

It’s not… I mean… the whole… I’ve only been back a few days, can’t deal with all the chat. The people. It’s such a change from being out there.

CHARLES.

It’s important Harry.

HARRY.

Yeah but the headache though.

They look at each other for a moment.

Then he goes.

WILLIAM.

We should leave, and mingle with the crowds.

A single round should be sufficient, then

We’re at the Palace, yes?

CAMILLA.

                              That’s right.

CHARLES.

                                             But where’s

The children?

KATE.

               Taken now to Kensington.

They needed sleep.

CHARLES.

                     They didn’t cry.

WILLIAM.

                                       They – what?

CHARLES.

I thought they would. With both of them so young.

But something in them understood and so

They watched and listened, and like all of us

They kept their real emotions to themselves.

In public William, you were the same,

For as a babe so silent in the cot

We worried you might quietly have died.

WILLIAM.

We felt the same with George. The first-born brings

A paranoia.

CHARLES.

            True. The constant fear

That one might somehow lose one’s son.

Enter JAMES REISS, his Press Secretary, who waits.

WILLIAM.

But Dad, you’re shaken up.

Perhaps we should take time to talk?

CHARLES.

I’m sorry. It must wait. James wants us now –

CAMILLA.

Charles – James will happ’ly do whatever you

Command. You can spend time with William –

CHARLES.

We’ll see you later on.

A pause.

WILLIAM.

Alright.

They go.

JAMES.

Just Mr Evans, waiting now, to speak.

Before you walk together from the door.

I am afraid the press are kettled up

And staying all this time, expect their shot.

CHARLES.

A moment please, alone, before it starts.

JAMES goes.

Camilla you as well, I’m sorry but…

You understand?

CAMILLA.

                     I do.

She kisses him, and goes.

CHARLES.

At last. I needed room for thought to breathe

In every second since my mother passed

I’m trapped by meetings, all these people ask

Me questions, talking, fussing, what to do,

Expect I’ll have opinion there, all good

To go, like Findus ready meals for one,

Pre-wrapped and frozen, ‘This is what I think.’

As if I know! My better thoughts – they start

From scratch, slow cooked, and brewed with time.

My life has been a ling’ring for the throne.

Sometimes I do confess I ’magined if

My mother hap’d to die before her time,

A helicopter crash, a rare disease

So at an early age I’d be in charge –

Before me years of constant stable rule.

But mostly I have hoped she’d keep in health

That since for most, outrageous dreams and hopes

Are all they’ll ever have, and yet their life is full,

So I am better Thoughtful Prince than King.

Potential holds appeal since in its castle walls

One is protected from the awful shame

Of failure.

JAMES enters.

JAMES.

Your Majesty, the Prime Minister’s here.

CHARLES.

Bring him in.

JAMES goes.

No more, exactly as Camilla said,

Although the crown has yet to sit upon

My head and burden me with gold,

I am the King default, and will ascend.

MR EVANS, the Prime Minister, enters.

MR EVANS.

Your Majesty.

CHARLES.

Prime Minister.

MR EVANS.

Sincere condolences upon your loss.

CHARLES.

A loss I think that all her subjects share.

MR EVANS.

Of course, we miss our Queen. But you will feel

A sharper pain, I’m sure.

Pause.

You felt she would have liked the service?

CHARLES.

I trust she would, for planned it was by her.

Pause.

MR EVANS.

I hope you heard the people outside cheer?

CHARLES.

When? No. A cheer? A cheer for what?

MR EVANS.

Towards the end from through the doors and walls

We heard hip-hip and all at once there came

Hooray, and then three times repeated same.

And, although perhaps the tone was wrong

At least it showed they cared and loved the Queen.

CHARLES.

I didn’t hear, my mind must have been somewhere else.

JAMES enters.

JAMES.

Your Majesty. Mr Evans. The press await.

CHARLES.

We’ll talk some more across the weeks to come.

MR EVANS.

We will indeed.

Pause.

CHARLES.

But now you must excuse me, for I have

To walk from here, and face the baying mob.

JAMES.

Your Majesty you may not recall we did

Decide for public reassurance you

Would leave with Mr Evans at your side,

The Crown and State, Prime Minister and King.

CHARLES.

We did agree?

JAMES.

               Indeed.

CHARLES.

                        You’re right.

JAMES.

                                       Just so.

CHARLES.

You’re right I don’t recall. And now we’re here

I feel instead I should remain aloft

From politics and walk with royals alone.

I’m sure Prime Minister will understand

MR EVANS.

Of course, I’ll go right now, and clear the way.

JAMES and MR EVANS go.

CHARLES.

Such equal billing was a joy when Prince.

To share the stage did spread attention out.

But now I’ll rise to how things have to be

The Queen is dead, long live the King. That’s me.

CHARLES goes.

1.2

HARRY and SPENCER, in the VIP room at Boujis.

Behind them, out in the club itself, CLUBBERS mill about with drinks – dancing.

SPENCER.

Look, I completely understand you must respect a serious period of mourning and all that boohoo, but you deserve a classic night out, and here’s something to cheer you up. Recommendation from my father. Import from Eastern Europe.

SPENCER produces a black bottle.

It’s black. That’s all we know.

SPENCER takes the top off and HARRY swigs some. It’s strong and disgusting. COOTSY enters – wearing jeans and a cheap top.

COOTSY.

Hello bitches. Wagwan.

SPENCER.

Speak English Coots.

HARRY.

What’s all that?

COOTSY.

Don’t know what you mean?

SPENCER.

You look like you got raped by Primark.

COOTSY.

Undercover mate.

SPENCER.

What?

COOTSY.

Student night in New Cross. Couldn’t go in what I usually wear, they wouldn’t know what hit them. Ergo: dress down.

HARRY.

Why were you at a student night?

COOTSY.

To get your surprise.

HARRY.

Coots –

COOTSY.

She’s a lovely girl. Very distinctive. Asked her if she wanted to meet you, she was keen. I’ve brought her back. Now you’re out the army thought you might want to, you know –

HARRY.

Coots.

COOTSY.

Do a pleb.

HARRY.

Yeah.

COOTSY.

Knob a prole.

HARRY.

Not in the mood.

COOTSY.

Approach a subject from a different angle.

HARRY.

Where is she?

COOTSY.

Toilet. Making herself look presentable. Best she can. Her name’s Jess.

SPENCER.

What’s she like?

COOTSY.

Don’t know, mate. Can’t get past the voice.

JESS enters. She’s mid-twenties, well dressed, clearly clever.

JESS.

Er… hello.

COOTSY.

Jessica!

JESS.

Not joking then.

COOTSY.

What?

JESS.

Here he is. Prince Harry.

HARRY.

Yeah?

JESS.

Is Charles really your dad?

HARRY.

What?

JESS.

Or was it the other one?

SPENCER.

The other one?

JESS.

Yeah. What’s his name?

SPENCER.

No.

JESS.

Hewlitt.

SPENCER.

Hewitt.

JESS.

Her butler or whatever.

SPENCER.

Not the butler.

COOTSY.

No the butler didn’t do it.

JESS.

Cos you’re very ginger. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, but if you haven’t done a test yet you should, cos if Hewlitt was your dad instead, you’d be out of the family.

HARRY.

What?

JESS.

Free of it!

HARRY.

Why would I want to be free of it?

JESS.

Cos you hate it. Don’t you?

Beat.

HARRY.

…no.

SPENCER.

He really doesn’t.

JESS.

Yeah you do. He does, this dressing up, getting wrecked, it’s because you’re part of this big thing, but you don’t get anything back. You’ll just be the drunken uncle, get married a few times, always pissed. A trap. For you. Isn’t it?

HARRY.

That’s what you think?

JESS.

Yeah.

HARRY.

So what should I do then?

JESS.

What?

HARRY.

What should I do instead?

JESS.

You really want to know?

Beat.

COOTSY.

Look, I think it’s time for you to tap out darling. Go on. Off you pop. We’ve seen girls like you before, won’t be long before the cameraphone comes out –

HARRY.

Cootsy, Spencer, someone wants you at the bar.

COOTSY.