GE 1996-7 Season 3 Episode 14: Complete Script
Note: this is not a transcript, but a working draft of the script, so there may be differences in the aired version.

PAUL:	[Opens strolling the boards at 
	the Old Gob Hall in Ferryland; 
	empty cavern, this year's 
	production yet to begin.]

	The theatre! This magical 
	place.  Just walking the stage 
	here at the New Old Gob Hall 
	in Ferryland makes the hair on 
	the back of my neck tickle 
	with anticipation. In the late 
	afternoon of New Year's Day 
	1997, hundreds of good folk, 
	dazed from the previous 
	evening's excess, will wend 
	their weary way here, seeking 
	out grog stand, brazier and 
	elbow room in the rancid pit 
	of this venerable hall.  
	Backstage, the Old Gob Players 
	will be applying final 
	greasepaint, and nursing half-
	remembered lines.  

	The violent clamour of hung-
	over spectators will become 
	hubbub... murmur... whisper 
	... and then the slumbering 
	footlights will blaze once 
	more upon the annual 
	performance of Ned Murrin's 
	1587 masterpiece, The Tragical 
	Story of Carlos Duke of 
	Portugal!

REGULAR GE MUSIC THEME

PAUL:	(over music) Today on the 
	Great Eastern, the story of 
	that tragical story: 
	everything you always wanted 
	to know about the ‘Gee: it's a 
	special Carlos Duke of 
	Portugal preview: Containing 
	the treacherous plots of his 
	bastard brother; the 
	hermaphroditic persuasions of 
	a buxom lord; the pitiefull 
	murther of numerous natives, 
	pretenders and curs; the 
	Duke’s tyrannical 
	deflowerment; forced 
	enwinterment in the New Found 
	Isle, and most deserved pox 
	acquired therein.  All this 
	for you on the Great Eastern: 
	Newfoundland’s Cultural 
	Magazine.
	

[CARLOS SCENE 1]


CARLOS:	Oh great Lady, thou doth make cruel sport of me
		For I have come to lay your hand upon mine own
		That thou might lay thy claim to Portugal and throne

LADY B:	If hands and claims are laid, then why not more?
		This laying game I find most lofty sport 
		Throne speeches are best left for pillow rhymes

CARLOS:	Dally thou shouldst not, fair widow, for my purpose
		is most urgent and my desire most pure

LADY B:	Desire most pure, it cannot be
		For then would day be night, foul fair, hot cold
		And I grieving lord and not unfettered lady
		Come, goochie ‘Gee, we must dine and make merry
		For the moose is well-hung, the venison 
		Young and tender and e’erso succulent

CARLOS:	[aside] O torment of loins blue, such base imagining
		surely sources from mine own head.  
		Dive, vile thoughts, think not
	 	of the Bishop, but of Portugal

		
		

PAUL:	(in empty Old Gob Hall)

	A couple of years ago, we did 
	a feature on the 1995 
	production of Carlos Duke of 
	Portugal.  It came to our 
	attention that the Canadian 
	public was in no way 
	conversant with this play, one 
	that many now consider the 
	first work of North American 
	literature.
	
	I'm joined by distinguised 
	Murrin scholar, Dr. Ian 
	Trumble. In 1963, Dr. Trumble 
	disovered the lost manuscript 
	of Carlos Duke of Portugal.  
	He is Professor of Elizabethan 
	Drama at the University of 
	Newfoundland at St. John’s. 
	Welcome to the Great Eastern.
	
TRUMBLE:	Thanks for having me.

PAUL:	(deep intake of breath) 
	Professor Trumble, I've been a 
	passionate admirer of this 
	play ever since you introduced 
	me to it in "Carlos 101" back 
	in first year university.
	
TRUMBLE:	I can't say that I remember 
	you, I’m afraid.

PAUL:	Really?  I got an A.

TRUMBLE:	Yes, didn't they all.

PAUL:	Imagine Canada as an 
	undergraduate: pimply-faced, 
	distracted, a bit stunned.  
	How does Carlos, Duke of 
	Portugal speak to their lives?
	
TRUMBLE:	Well, it’s filled with lust, 
	revenge, murder, probable 
	incest, imperial skulduggery, 
	frantic cross-dressing, quirky 
	madrigals.

PAUL:	Those dizzy Elizabethans.

TRUMBLE:	Just as intriguing, of course, 
	is the mystery of the play 
	itself.

PAUL:	Shakespeare's missing link?

TRUMBLE:	Precisely.

PAUL:	Recount for us that amazing 
	piece of detective work that 
	led you to the lost manuscript 
	in the British Museum in 1962. 
	You were a graduate student at 
	... Cambridge was it?

TRUMBLE:	Oxbridge, actually.

PAUL:	Oxbridge?

TRUMBLE:	On the Lamb.

PAUL:	Right, studying under the 
	great Elizabethan scholar, Rex 
	Huddler.

TRUMBLE:	Yes, the old blighter, and I 
	don't mind admitting that 
	things were not going well for 
	me at the time.  I'd chosen 
	the so-called "7 dark years" 
	in Shakespeare's life as a 
	thesis topic.

PAUL:	That would be from 1585 when 
	he leaves Stratford, to 1592, 
	when he's an established 
	playwright in London.
	
TRUMBLE:	Quite.  Well, dark years being 
	what they are, I hadn't come 
	up with much.  Deadlines were 
	looming and I had nothing--
	nothing but a wing and a 
	prayer called Ned Murrin.

PAUL:	The author of Carlos.

TRUMBLE:	I didn't know that at the 
	time.

PAUL:	Of course.

TRUMBLE:	Right.

PAUL:	Yes.

TRUMBLE:	Of course.

PAUL:	So.

TRUMBLE:	Above a cabaret in Eastcheap, 
	behind a peep show, in the 
	shop of a rather unusual book 
	dealer, I stumbled upon a rare 
	first edition of the diary of 
	one Arthur Lyndon, a dubious 
	Irish noblemen who had 
	survived the first settlement 
	of Lord Baltimore here in 
	Ferryland over the cruel 
	winter of 1587.

PAUL:	Now, this booksho--

TRUMBLE:	I'd been toying with the idea-
	-pooh-poohed out of hand by 
	Huddler and his protegees--
	that young Will might possibly 
	have sought his fortune by 
	shipping off to one of the 
	Utopian settlements in North 
	America – “O Brave New World”, 
	that sort of thing.
	
PAUL:	Intriguing hypothesis, but--

TRUMBLE:	Precisely, so you can imagine 
	my thoughts as I read Sir 
	Arthur's account of the New 
	Year's Day feast in Lord 
	Baltimore's Great Hall.  The 
	words are etched in my mind to 
	this day: "Our spirits were 
	low from the death of all 
	Nature, but the sack-suckling 
	stablemaster, Ned Murrin had 
	put together a not unseeme 
	farce on the 'Gee.  I drank 
	his health and asked where he 
	had got up such art, but 
	Murrin said he'd not tell me 
	lest I shake his spear."

PAUL:	Wow.

TRUMBLE:	Shake his spear ... shake 
	spear ... Shakespeare?  Mmm?

PAUL:	Yes, yes, brilliant.

TRUMBLE:	Yes.  Well, my blood was up, 
	and I tore over to the BM with 
	the scent in my nose.  By god, 
	I'd have that play or see 
	myself hanged.

PAUL:	And?

TRUMBLE:	Nothing.

PAUL:	Nothing?

TRUMBLE:	Nothing.

PAUL:	Nothing?

TRUMBLE:	Nothing, nothing, nothing, 
	Paul.  No, nothing in Lyndon's 
	papers; nothing for Ned 
	Murrin; not even a mention in 
	the Baltimore papers.  My life 
	flashed before me.  Drummed 
	out of Oxbridge, forever 
	recalled in ridicule by 
	Elizabethan scholars, a life 
	in journalism or some such 
	petty intellectual trade.
	
PAUL:	And then?

TRUMBLE:	I began to look through the 
	Museum card catalogue, 
	starting with "A".  Over 3 
	million cards stood between me 
	and my prey, but finally, 
	under the letter "U", my eyes 
	so bleary I could hardly read 
	it: "Unseeme Farces of 1587".  
	My heart froze as I read down 
	the contents, and there it 
	was: "The Lady is a Lord: the 
	Storie of the Royal Portagee, 
	Carlos and his many Mates, by 
	Edward Murrin, Esq."  With 
	trembling hands, I requested 
	the ancient document, hoping 
	upon desperate hope that it 
	was still there.

PAUL:	Wow.

TRUMBLE:	Finally a worm-eaten bundle 
	was dumped before me. I blew 
	away the powder of centuries, 
	and breathed the rare air of a 
	New World...

[CARLOS SCENE 2:]

CARLOS:		In this winter of misspent time and seed
			I have lo’ered myself to most base depths
			And spyed my soul’s foul bubbling bowels
			While cursing nature for her vile exuberance
			Maker of tempests, mother of our sorry separation 
			From hearth and noble maids and thronely heirs.
			O wretched land of savages and ague
			Tis my bastard brother, the Black Prince
			Who shouldst suffer this, whilst I take wine
			and cherry in the warm Algarve.

JUAN:		Master! Good Duke! Lord Baltimore is dead!

CARLOS:		I told you never to interrupt me while I’m 				
			soliloquizing.

JUAN:		But, Master, the English lord has died!

CARLOS:		I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to 				
			say to you Juan.  Let me explain.

JUAN:		Aaarrrrrrgh........			




TRUMBLE:	Marvelous.  Dean is simply 
	incomparable.

PAUL:	You’re listening to the Great 
	Eastern on the Broadcasting 
	Corporation of Newfoundland.  
	I’m speaking with Elizabethan 
	scholar, Ian Trumble, and what 
	we’ve just heard was, of 
	course, Philip Dean from 
	perhaps the definitive 1973 
	production of Carlos Duke of 
	Portugal.

TRUMBLE:	Pity we can’t hear the whole 
	performance, really.

PAUL:	You know, we approached the 
	CBC about broadcasting this 
	year’s ‘Gee in its entirety to 
	bring Canadians what, in a 
	sense, is their original drama 
	-- you know, since we thought 
	we had an “in” there now -- 
	but they, well, you know, with 
	the... and then, the... and I 
	called … and then we tried 
	.... anyway, it didn’t happen.
	
TRUMBLE:	I see.

PAUL:	Perhaps a quick plot summary 
	for the listener?
	
TRUMBLE:	I think I’ll lay this one in 
	your lap, Paul: how would you 
	explain the story?

PAUL:	Hoo, boy, you’ve put me on the 
	spot there.

TRUMBLE:	Well, after all, you did get 
	an “A”. 

PAUL:	Let’s see, well, Carlos, heir 
	to the Portuguese throne, on a 
	voyage of exploration in his 
	ship, the Gran Madre, is blown 
	off course and runs aground 
	just down the shore from Lord 
	Baltimore’s plantation at 
	Ferryland.  Carlos must winter 
	there, seized by the fear 
	that, in his absence, his 
	bastard half-brother, Black 
	Prince Romario of the Algarve, 
	will kill their father, King 
	Esteban the Lame, and usurp 
	Carlos rightful succession. 
	The forlorn Duke falls 
	increasingly under the spell 
	of Lady Baltimore, second 
	cousin to Queen Elizabeth.  
	The sudden death of Lord 
	Baltimore sets Carlos to dream 
	of a union of English and 
	Portuguese royal blood ... and 
	assorted other bodily 
	fluids... and to woo the merry 
	widow, though he soon finds 
	out that re: Lady Baltimore, 
	nature is not always what it 
	seems.  Or is it?
	
TRUMBLE:	That takes care of Act I, 
	anyway.

PAUL:	How closely does the ‘Gee we 
	know and love today resemble 
	the original manuscript that 
	you found that bleak winter 
	morning in ‘61?

TRUMBLE:	Ah.	

PAUL:	Because, the restoration 
	process is the subject of a 
	certain amount of controversy, 
	am I right?

TRUMBLE:	You are.

PAUL:	You've been criticized for the 
	way you handled both 
	manuscripts.
	
TRUMBLE:	I have.

PAUL:	You've been called 
	irresponsible.

TRUMBLE:	Yes.

PAUL:	A crank.

TRUMBLE:	Yes.

PAUL:	A liar.

TRUMBLE:	Hm.

PAUL:	A cheat.

TRUMBLE:	True.

PAUL:	A charlatan.

TRUMBLE:	Oh, they've thrown the lot at 
	me.

PAUL:	Why, do you think?

TRUMBLE:	In a word: jealousy.  Hardly 
	surprising really.

PAUL:	Well, K. Anthony Kaplan at 
	UBC, for example, claims that 
	you stole the original 
	manuscript from the British 
	Museum, and replaced a cycle 
	of pornographic limericks with 
	a bad Shakespearian rip-off 
	written by you and your then 
	lover, the failed London 
	playwright, Albert Silvester, 
	who later confessed as much in 
	a suicide note.

TRUMBLE:	Ah. Tony.  Tony, Tony, Tony, 
	Tony, Tony, poor lad.  I don't 
	like talking about this, you 
	know, in public, but Tony 
	Kaplan was a struggling young 
	fellow graduate student, 
	rather lacking in imagination, 
	emotionally troubled, with a 
	drug problem, overawed by my  
	... vision... shall we say, 
	smitten also, I might add, by 
	Kinky Silvester, who was never 
	an intimate acquaintance of 
	mine, though we did frequent 
	the same West End lavatories 
	for a time--and desperately 
	jealous, Tony was, of my great 
	find, one for which I will go 
	down in history, while poor, 
	dear Tony will forever publish 
	articles in the Journal of 
	Theatrical Accessories on the 
	average size of the 
	Elizabethan codpiece.  A bit 
	seedy, but there you go.
	
PAUL:	What about the play itself?  
	Does it have artistic merit, 
	or is it a simple curiosity? 
	an obscure Elizabethan 
	artifact?

TRUMBLE:	One might ask, Paul, was 
	Carlos Duke of Portugal 
	written by the young 
	Shakespeare himself?

PAUL:	One might.

TRUMBLE:	I think the historical 
	evidence will never be found 
	... either way; however, the 
	literary evidence--the textual 
	evidence-- overwhelmingly 
	supports my contention that 
	this is the first work of 
	William Shakespeare.  Alas, my 
	lifelong struggle to bring the 
	play into the canon has been 
	repeatedly thwarted by the 
	narrow minded plotting of the 
	Shakespearian establishment.
	
PAUL:	Why the resistance, do you 
	think?

TRUMBLE:	Well, you know, much of the 
	play is not very...  how 
	should I say it?  not very...
	
PAUL:	Good.

TRUMBLE:	Yes, not very good, and that I 
	think takes away some of the 
	“will”, shall we say, to 
	believe that this is 
	Shakespeare's first go. But 
	one might well point out, for 
	example, that A Comedy of 
	Errors is even more dreadful 
	than Carlos, and much less 
	ambitious.

PAUL:	Other theories?

TRUMBLE:	Some have ventured that Murrin 
	was a budding artist yet 
	greater than Shakespeare, who 
	died untimely young.

PAUL:	I've often thought about that 
	myself.  I mean I've never 
	come across anything in 
	Shakespeare nearly as complex 
	as the double iambic 
	septameter used so frequently 
	in Carlos...

TRUMBLE:	Oh yes, the mastery of the 
	metre is extraordinary: in one 
	of the classic exchanges, III-
	vii, we have triple iambic 
	septameter and dythyrambic 
	hydrometer, interwoven with 
	islamic pentameter. [break for 
	possible edit]
 
PAUL:	Yes, now how does that go 
	again?

TRUMBLE:	Well it’s kind of a... da da/ 
	da da/ da da/ da da/ da-da-da-
	daaa, dit-dit-dit, da-da-da, 
	doo-doo-doo, da-da-da, da doo 
	de de dah, dahh...  and then 
	you come in with:

PAUL:	Oh, right, I’m getting it. da 
	deska dan de desk a dan, daka 
	daka din, duna taka, duna 
	taka..... (etc. a la Shakti)	

TRUMBLE:	That’s quite good, Paul.  Of 
	course, with words it gets a 
	bit more complicated. 

[ensure break for possible edit]


PAUL:	Let’s go, then, to one example 
	of that wild Elizabethan 
	metric experimentation.  From 
	the much-lauded 1987 
	production, this is Evan 
	Newhook as Carlos, Penny 
	Maloney as Mistress 
	Conningtore, and Christophe 
	Sullivan as the beleaguered 
	and much abusèd Juan.  Carlos 
	has innocently consumed 
	hallucinogenic mushrooms, and 
	runs rampant in a brothel. 
	
[CARLOS SCENE 3]

MISTRESS:	Excuse, excuse, my Duke of Lisbon, excuse, excuse
			The ‘Gee erects more wonders than a man, 
			Daring the opposite to every posture:
			His harlot snores, and all on foot he spies
			Seeking for a lady loose in the throes of his lust
			Excuse, fair ‘Gee, or else the throne is lost!

CARLOS:		A whore!  A whore!  My kingdom for a whore!

MISTRESS:	Withdraw, my lord, I’ll help you to a whore.

JUAN:		My lord, what dreadful turn has left thee in such state?	

CARLOS:		Fool, imbecile, dost thou not see that I Carlos, 
			the dauphin ‘Gee, am spurned and left without a mate.
			Acch Juan, one wanton wand and what was wagered?
			A Kingdom? Portugal?
			The Crown will rest not on my noggin but Ring 				
			Romarios regal conk instead.

JUAN:		Algarve within the royal house!  Will ermine swab a salt 
			drenched brow? A fish stink stage set with gilt? 
			And the ‘Gee mocked as mere monger, then I
			Shall be naught more than offal: 
			Slop, tripe, entrails, viscera, guts,
			Chaff to your sodden wheat

CARLOS:		Shut up, wretch, or I’ll have thee wear
			Said guts for garters and in my state 
			My royal appetite aroused may yet become

JUAN:  		The shrooms, my lord, have left thee without sense
			We must away these hideous, ginsoaked barroom 				
			queens

CARLOS:		Thou wouldst take me from this chocalate box with soft centres yet untasted?
			Take not me, don Juan; take this (whacking him with sword), and this, and a bit 
			o’ this, and some o’ that; now dance, slave, dance! yes, prance a bit for sport and merriment...

JUAN:		Ah, ah, ah, my good Duke, no!  ah, ah, ah, oh cursed ‘shrooms, oh wretched fruit of Hades’ 
			swamp, to Lady Baltimore’s I must away, if she’ll hear this woeful tale, 
			she may be aroused to offer 
			audience to my poor master (fades on Juan taking a whacking)


			
			

TRUMBLE:	Surely one of the most unlucky 
	characters in all Newfoundland 
	theatre, Juan.
	
PAUL:	And that’s saying something.  
	Doesn’t have the luck of a 
	sculpin does he, Juan?
	
TRUMBLE:	No, he meets with a ...

PAUL:	Horrible...

TRUMBLE:	Ghastly...

PAUL:	Yes, yes...

TRUMBLE:	I certainly wouldn’t want my 
	end to be ...

PAUL:	No.. no..

TRUMBLE:	Dreadful..

PAUL:	Terrible, and painful, too.

TRUMBLE:	Mmm.

PAUL:	Mmmmn.  So, after your 
	controversial Oxbridge 
	triumph, you came here.
	
TRUMBLE:	Yes.  In 1965, thesis under 
	one arm, copy of Carlos under 
	the other, and set out to 
	bring the play back to life.
	
PAUL:	What was the reaction of 
	people over here to your 
	stupendous news?

TRUMBLE:	Amongst the colonial 
	neanderthals then masquerading 
	as university professors, 
	contempt; amongst the good 
	people of Ferryland, a great 
	deal of less than generous 
	mirth.

PAUL:	How times have changed, heh?  
	Your statue in the municipal 
	parking lot now, and of course 
	"Trumble's Fish & Chips".

TRUMBLE:	Yes, extraordinary how 2 
	million in arts funding can 
	make a town friendly, isn't 
	it?

PAUL:	It would make me friendly, 
	that's for sure.

TRUMBLE:	Just how friendly would it 
	make you, Paul?

PAUL:	Sorry?

TRUMBLE:	Of course, that was in the 
	good old days of "1967 let's 
	blow the centennial wad and 
	wipe it up with the left- over 
	bills".

PAUL:	Boy, I remember those days. I 
	did acid with my scout leader 
	at Expo.  Talk about Man and 
	His World.
	
TRUMBLE:	Yes, a profligate country for 
	one fleeting moment, Canada 
	was.

PAUL:	And this is when you began the 
	great Carlos summer festival.
	
IAN:	Yes.

PAUL:	A total failure.

IAN:	Yes.  Though in some ways an 
	artistic triumph.  Alas, the 
	audience for  Dean’s 
	definitive performance was 
	made up of only twenty paying 
	customers, many of them 
	members of Dean’s own family.
	
PAUL:	And then, the arrival of the 
	young stage genius, Christophe 
	Sullivan.  
	
IAN:	If you say so.

PAUL:	This was an experimental phase 
	that really made Carlos 
	popular.

IAN:	Yes, well, Sullivan had 
	certain connections, shall we 
	say, with senior political 
	figures, and he was able to 
	wrest control of Carlos and 
	move the company out here to 
	Ferryland, and build the New 
	Old Gob.

PAUL:	This was also when the play 
	began to be performed again on 
	New Year’s Day, mirroring the 
	original 1587 production.
	
TRUMBLE:	Yes, what a stroke of 
	marketing genius!

PAUL:	Still, the success speaks for 
	itself.  Do you think the play 
	became popular due to its 
	“modernization.  I mean, the 
	disco version was the first 
	smash hit.  Then they did a 
	punk version.

IAN:	Yes.

PAUL:	Glam.

Ian:	Gay.

PAUL:	Bi

IAN:	Inde.

PAUL:	Retro.

IAN:	Beat.

PAUL:	Free.

IAN:	Grunge.

PAUL:	What do you think of the 
	feminist version --the 
	“counter-Carlos” -- that’s 
	mounted now here six days 
	later on Twelfth Night?
	
IAN:	Ha. “Carlota”?  Yes, well, 
	inevitable, I suppose, but 
	there simply is no evidence 
	the ‘Gee was staged by the 
	women of the colony as a 
	multiple transgender inversion 
	of Elizabethan patriarchal 
	codes that reappropriated 
	Twelfth Night as a pagan 
	sterility ritual.

PAUL:	Perhaps not, but I mean the 
	play clearly lends itself to 
	some interesting explorations 
	of gender boundaries.
	
TRUMBLE:	Yes, but that’s Elizabethan 
	drama, not modern feminism.  
	It was just men and boys, 
	Paul, you’ve got to remember.

PAUL:	Well, anyway, let’s listen to 
	the crucial Scene 4, Act 5, 
	when Carlos returns to the 
	Gran Madre after his audience 
	with Lady Baltimore, deeply 
	troubled by his shocking 
	discovery of the Lady’s 
	imposture.  Once again, Ewan 
	Newhook as Carlos, and 
	Christophe Sullivan as Juan.
	
[CARLOS SCENE 4]


JUAN:	Mark this, a beast doth come
		Hunched, its gams bent, its mane a mop
		Tis not Brit nor Bay, if a man
		what goes there?

CARLOS:	A fool, nay a tool among men.

JUAN:	Halt, festered lump, lest I dash out your sorry brains

CARLOS:	Tis I, good Juan, your master

JUAN:	Ah, good sir, a master and well worn
		The hymen of his love is torn
		Lady Baltimore sayest yea?

CARLOS:	A lady? Nay. Nor man.

JUAN:	Me thinks my master is gaming
		Playing puzzles with naming
		If not lady, then lord.

CARLOS:	Or skirt with sword
		That did prick me when I did touch it.
		Oh, Juan! Upon my most gentle caress
		I did rouse a man beneath a dress.

JUAN:	You riddle me, dull Master

CARLOS:	Dost thou make me spell it?
		Against all nature, fool, agree
		That scent and shape do not make she
		Lady Baltimore is he!

JUAN:	Sir, what?

CARLOS:	This New founde Land doth stir ungodly beast
		Thoughts weird flame men’s brains after wine and feast
		Juan look, e’en now the sea doth freeze and grind
		Us here against these withered milkless dugs.
		Woudlst that I to my eastern home return
		Let me kiss off Cathrine and good Mary
		Where hags Dao sail and God forewarns the male
		Where man is man and woman too is true
		False capes and painted lips hide nothing new.

		But would I harken there to loins like mine?
		In Lisbon’s harbor safe and ‘mongst my own?
		What would my own be, would it be young men?
	`	And you sweet Juan, the servant good and true,
		Me thinks of love: odds bodkins, now me thinks of you.

		Oh!  Free me from this place of fright and noise.
		O New founde yet cursed land
		O vile isle...


		

TRUMBLE:	“I must from this enchanting queen 
	break off.”

PAUL:	I’ll say.  You know, I used to 
	be a big fan of 
	experimentation, but I really 
	like the recent return to a 
	more classical Elizabethan 
	style.  We should also say, 
	for the record, that Professor 
	Trumble and Christophe 
	Sullivan have patched up their 
	differences: the difficulties, 
	bruised egos, the civil 
	proceedings are part of the 
	past-- in fact, am I right, 
	Professor Trumble, that you 
	yourself have a small but 
	pivotal role in this year’s 
	production?
	
TRUMBLE:	I wouldn’t call Lady Baltimore 
	such a small role, though it 
	is rather “pivotal”, isn’t it?
	
PAUL:	Have you ever played Carlos?  

TRUMBLE:	Not even I, the very 
	discoverer of the play, its 
	first interpreter, and a not 
	unaccomplished creeper of the 
	boards -- not even I have 
	“done the ‘Gee”.
  
PAUL:	But you’ve directed people 
	through the role.  What does 
	it take?

TRUMBLE:	“Doing the Gee” requires 
	complete devotion, utter self-
	abasement, the cultivation of 
	a sense of despair, and, well, 
	a great ability to hold 
	liquor. It is the pinnacle of 
	any thespian’s career, an 
	insurpassable moment, and that 
	explains why, so often, those 
	who play Carlos find it 
	impossible to work again 
	afterwards.

PAUL:	Let’s go to the final scene of 
	this great work, the 
	culmination of eleven acts and 
	six to seven hours of 
	torturous shenanigans.  Here 
	now, the scene known to 
	theatre lovers as, “Farewell, 
	Ferryland, farewell.”   Again 
	from the 1987 performance 
	starring Ewan Newhook and 
	Christophe Sullivan.

[CARLOS SCENE 5]

CARLOS:	Juan, fine fellow, are you not my man?

JUAN:	‘Tis true you are my master.

CARLOS:	Then listen to this, my last command.

JUAN:	Am I to be free, sirrah?

CARLOS:	Thou hast been a most devoted and servile flunky
		Taking on drudgery so that I might find pleasures
		Laying thy pure heart between sword and hollow head
		‘Twixt hail of stone so that I might flee

JUAN:	Am I to be free, sir?

CARLOS:	Quiet, cur, that I might speak.
		This night get you to the lady--nay lord’s-- abode and there
		wilst making ill-sighted under night’s clock
		drop a lattern midst the hay
		so as to make gentle lambence a garish blaze

JUAN:	The town Master, will be razed

CARLOS:	And the torment there thus made smoke which upon these 
		ceaseless howling gales shall disperse 
		like foul rumour too oft whispered is to nonsense made

JUAN:	Ayyyee, Master methinks method in this madness 

SFX:	Head smack

CARLOS:	Ye thinks too much, fool!

JUAN:	Am I dull sir or in reason too fine?
		Would not in Lisbon courtiers tongues wag
		In cruel mimicry of thine own as it played upon the stately 
		staff in Baltimore’s ....  house.

CARLOS:	Were that I could deceive thee wise Juan
		Tis true 
		Gossip pointed does between this eager seat (slaps his arse) 
		and the throne intrude

JUAN:	And in the muting of this heresay 
		does the road to freedom therein lay?
		Is match-mischief the price of thy servant’s ease?

CARLOS:	Tis tough slave.

JUAN:	Then exeunt I

CARLOS:	Farewell Juan.

JUAN:	“Farewell,” Sir?

CARLOS:	Ahhh ... see you in a bit.

SFX:	Juan’s departing footsteps

CARLOS:	(shouts) Hail mate! Set loose the tethers that bind us to this
		vile isle, hoist the sails that we may in haste to Portugal make. 

MATE:	But what of Juan?

CARLOS:	Alas, he is free.  		

MATE:	The town sir, like brittle tinder, flares

CARLOS:	And given breath by storm does now become a furnace.

SFX:	Screams.

CARLOS:	Summon the minstrel, sweet music may mask mewl
		and so cleanse the conscience of the king.

MINSTREL:	I loved the colourful clothes she wore
			and the way the sunlight played upon her hair.
			
			Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky
			etc.


		

PAUL:	I've been speaking with the 
	world's foremost Murrin 
	scholar, Professor Ian Trumble 
	of the UNSJ.  Professor 
	Trumble is author of Carlos, 
	Duke of Desire: Gender, Cross-
	Dressing and the Politics of 
	Arts Funding in Early 
	Newfoundland Theatre, 
	published by UNSJ Press.  
	Thank you so much for this.
	
TRUMBLE:	Our revels now are ended.  
	It’s been my pleasure.  Happy 
	New Year, and see you at the 
	show.

PAUL:	Wouldn’t miss it. We’ll leave 
	you now with the sounds of the 
	traditional razing of the set 
	that takes place each year as 
	Ferryland burns, Carlos, Duke 
	of Portugal, comes to a close, 
	and the Old Gob Players run 
	for their lives.  Until next 
	year then, Happy New Year to 
	you, Professor Trumble, and to 
	all our listeners and fans 
	across Newfoundland, Canada 
	and Iceland who've made this 
	past year such a memorable 
	one.
	
RETURN TO MAYHEM AND OUT ON 
THEME, AS MAYHEM FADES 
UNDERNEATH

Page 1 of 1	CARLOS, DUKE OF PORTUGAL, The New Year’s Special