Untitled Shakespeare Project
An excerpt from a work-in-progress, using verse to create a Shakespearean-style comedy set in modern New Jersey. Because Shakespeare loved writing about Italians.
by Eric Craft
ACT I; SCENE 3
Enter Caldwell.
CALDWELL
I am a man of few and simple words,
A trait that I inherit from my dad.
And not because I’m simple as my words.
I speak when I believe I need to speak,
And only to the point I mean to say.
I aim to keep my breath too well conserved.
Why use on speech what I can use to run,
To play, to lift, to sigh, to act within
the world instead of talking emptily?
When others have been speaking all my life
On what I think and feel, then why say more?
A politician’s son is one best seen,
for hearing him is seeking out loose threads
that one can pull to rip the family’s weft.
A sour soundbite tears along the bias,
One misplaced word, or love, unravels all.
​
Enter Brielle, eavesdropping
​
“Or love”—my heart, it beats against my breath
And pushes it to serve a higher speech,
My simple words not light enough to reach
The thing that forces me sigh heavenwards.
My Laurel wise, she understands how cruel
It is to have a parent politician.
And crueler still, to have our common thread
Become the shears that slice our lives in twain.
To think I’d love my family’s enemy!
The daughter of my father’s foe, so fair,
I wish to beam her name to all the Earth,
illuminate the whole world with her light
so all the world shall see that I love Laurel!
Our love a secret, violence unto us,
But if made public, all the world would talk,
Our love made stitched within a gossip’s rag,
When it should serve to sew our family’s hate
Into a greater tapestry of love,
despite what each our families might protest.
I know not where to go to for advice—
​
BRIELLE
I daresay, I, your sister, might suffice.
​
CALDWELL
You little sneak! What did you hear, Brielle?
​
BRIELLE
Enough that I might go to mom and tell.
​
CALDWELL
You wouldn’t dare, I know you’re not a rat.
​
BRIELLE
The rat that rode the ox and tricked the cat?
In that case, you are very wrong, for I
Was born within that year, and hence my wit.
​
CALDWELL
What must I do to keep you mum with mom?
BRIELLE
Explain me how you fell in love, is all.
Do tell the story as a luscious feast.
Begin with something small, an apertif,
To set the stage and whet my appetite.
Then second course, a salad or a soup,
So I may know what kind of meal this is.
And after keep the main course light and sweet,
But also give the story bits of meat
That when it’s done, I may then sigh content
For having eaten something worth my time.
A side or two would help to round the meal,
Provide a flavor depth to suit my taste.
And last, of course, dessert, the king of all,
A happy end that leaves me knowing all.
​
CALDWELL
Am I to be your chef or troubadour?
​
BRIELLE
So how did you and Laurel fall in love?
​
CALDWELL
To ask me is to ask the ocean’s birth!
It is as deep, as broad, as all consuming.
​
BRIELLE
Give me the apertif.
​
CALDWELL
We met in class.
​
BRIELLE
That deep the ocean?
​
CALDWELL
Canst let me finish?
​
BRIELLE
Fine, very well. The apertif again.
​
CALDWELL
We met in chemistry, paired up for lab.
I thought that she was hot, and she of me,
And so we flirted harmlessly at first.
I knew not who she was until week six,
When someone else congratulated her
For something that her mother did, which was,
Securing nomination uncontested.
​
BRIELLE
A spicy start. Now, soup or salad, next?
​
CALDWELL
I cannot say I get this metaphor.
​
BRIELLE
And your response?
​
CALDWELL
I saw her face grow tense,
A practiced smile you and I know well,
Whenever given compliments for dad.
I cursed myself who had not seen it sooner.
​
BRIELLE
Did she know who you were?
​
CALDWELL
And that’s our grace,
For all those first six weeks she did not know.
I asked her out that day, and we, until
The moon made set and sun grew high again,
Spoke on and on about our family woes.
BRIELLE
Ceviche then, the soup du jour, I see.
A cold and sour soup, and full of salt.
Now onto the main course.
​
CALDWELL
O, very well.
I found a friend in Laurel’s boughs, and then,
A love that blossomed most organically.
Away at school, away from parents’ grasp,
We built a garden where our love could grow,
And free of pests and rot and prying eyes
of those who’d sell our story to the press,
we’d spend our time in love together there.
Our roommates all were trustees of our tale,
And evenings out stayed strictly evenings in.
A movie date of only streaming things,
And dinner dates of only take-out joints.
Yet still, the time spent caused our love to grow
That now I think it rootbound in its pot.
Think you a love like this can live in darkness?
​
BRIELLE
A secret love that thrives in shadow oft
proves stronger than a love which needs full sun.
For true love’s tempered in the night. Good job!
A filling dish indeed. I never knew
That you could speak so much. But what, dessert?
Your eye exclaims it wants to tell me more,
Yet I am surfeited by your sweet tale.
Alas, I have no room left for dessert,
Or even coffee. I’ll just take the check.
​
CALDWELL
Please hear me, Bri, for this is my request,
And why I spun so long a yarn for thee.
Upon the end of this semester past,
My Laurel and myself did both resolve
To tell our parents of our newfound love,
And work with them to strategize on how
We break the story to the wider world.
To mark this promise, here is your dessert,
Exchanged we necklaces of polished gold,
Pulls necklace from under his shirt.
Each pendant of a finch, our favorite bird.
​
BRIELLE
Indeed, dessert almost too sweet to bear.
​
CALDWELL
I need advice on how to tell our dad.
Our mom I worry not on how she’ll feel,
But dad may see my love to her a threat,
Some undermining of his public image.
​
BRIELLE
I do not have advice that I can give.
​
CALDWELL
What nonsense you do speak now! None to give?
Our father’s favor is your expertise!
He is hard-hearted more with me and mom
Than ever he can be when he’s with you.
Our mom will ask for money, I for praise,
yet he will give you both without your asking.
​
BRIELLE
You overstate the sway I have on Dad.
There are such things that I can never get—
​
CALDWELL
Like what?
​
BRIELLE
I do not say this to be mean,
But what you suffer now is less than me.
I hold a secret too, and one our dad
Would never think to give his blessing on.
​
CALDWELL
What secrets can a little sister hold
That you do suffer somehow worse than I?
​
Enter Elizabeth
​
ELIZABETH
Why Caldwell, there you are.
​
BRIELLE
Hi Mom!
​
CALDWELL
What’s up?
​
ELIZABETH
You told me not that you invited friends.
​
CALDWELL
Why would I tell you something I’ve not done?
No friends of mine are meant to come today.
​
ELIZABETH
Two men your age now stand within my house.
They say they play football with you at school,
but I did not plan dinner for two more.
Your sister tells me when her friends come o’er.
Tonight her best friend Alloway will join
Us all for supper too, but this I knew,
And hence have prepped a meal for five, not seven.
​
CALDWELL
But Mom, I did not invite any friends!
​
ELIZABETH
Then who are they who call for you by name?
And one said something odd about a bird?
​
BRIELLE
A bird? Mayhaps a finch?
​
ELIZABETH
Why yes, that one.
​
BRIELLE
I think, Caldwell, that you may be mistook,
And had the date confused when you did plan
To have these two good friends of yours come o’er.
​
CALDWELL
But I did not make plans for any day—
​
BRIELLE
Then wow! Your friends surprised you, Caldwell! Yay!
A gift horse of a visitor you have,
And you were raised far better than to turn
A friend at door away without a word.
Why don’t we three all go to greet our guests?
​
ELIZABETH
A gracious host you are, my sweet Brielle,
I trust you’ll help me with the extra food?
​
BRIELLE
A dear friend of my brother is my friend,
I’ll help him sup with us to any end.
Exit.
ACT I SCENE 4
Laurel and Ironbound.
LAUREL
I thought that passing manly would be hard.
​
IRONBOUND
Men are not always so hard, neither in heart nor head. Most men do their manning quite flaccidly, never standing up for truth nor justice nor, in sooth, anything worth hardening for. Many men do float as discharged scraps, and then do die. Nay, ‘tis not so hard to play a man.
​
LAUREL
But if I wish to be a man less…soft?
​
IRONBOUND
Then harden just your heart and not your head. Move as if you are the predator in the room. Chest forward, big, eyes straight, and no sudden flighty movements that may effeminate. And keep the head pliable, that when bigger men do stalk the room they see you as a pawn worth keeping and not a prawn worth eating.
​
LAUREL
Thou speak as if all men were deadbeats or tools for greater men to lord over. What if I wish to be a man with a sharp mind and a soft heart?
​
IRONBOUND
Then you gay.
​
LAUREL
Is’t that simple?
​
IRONBOUND
Nay, but thou did ask how to play a man who runs in circles with this pack of wolves. Complain not at me if they do see you a coyote instead because you insist to keep your wits about you.
​
LAUREL
Do you worry we look not at all like football players?
​
IRONBOUND
We may not be tall, but we are svelte. And lean muscles are the trademark of the sport.
​
LAUREL
Lean muscles? Do you think—
​
Enter Elizabeth, Caldwell, and Brielle
​
ELIZABETH
Here is my son that you two boys do seek,
How nice that you surprise him at my home.
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
Why Caldwell, you do seem as if confused,
Did not you say to meet you at your house?
​
CALDWELL
I seem confused because I am confused.
As there be many boys upon the team,
I struggle to remember your two names.
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
How canst you, friend, forget dear Arlington?
The fourth string wide receiver on the team?
​
IRONBOUND
--And Ironbound! The striker, and star player.
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
The striker? Sure you mean the kicker, dude.
​
IRONBOUND
We all do kick the ball, ‘less I seem gauche
To claim my stardom higher than my team.
In sooth, good sir, you teach me a good turn,
that we are all but kickers in the end,
and glory is the team’s or none at all.
​
BRIELLE
Do tell me which footballer be your fave?
​
IRONBOUND
Ronaldo is the greatest athlete, yes,
But Pele is the one who holds my heart.
​
ELIZABETH
I feel I know these names but not from where.
​
BRIELLE
They are but players from a different league
Than you may be familiar with, for dad
Will follow teams American but not
The national football conference, where they play.
​
ELIZABETH
You know I never once have cared for sports.
I oft forget which teams are baseball ones.
​
BRIELLE
We speak of football…
​
ELIZABETH
Baseball, basket, too.
It’s all the same except when Caldwell plays.
Remember you these boys, my Caldwell dear?
You seem as if you struggle to remember?
​
LAUREL aside
Can Caldwell not see through this my disguise?
I knew I should have texted him before.
Surprise, I see, thou art a wickedness
When both surpriser and surprised are dumb.
​
CALDWELL
Remember you our cold homecoming night?
When we did play against Kentucky’s team?
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
A game most fraught beneath the Friday light
And victory far and distant as a dream.
​
CALDWELL
But coach did not believe that we would lose,
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
He knew that you would be the night’s big star,
​
CALDWELL
And during time out said “I had to choose:
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
To hide and fail or show them who you are.”
You ran with minutes left upon the clock
Into a team that thought you were a fool.
​
CALDWELL
I stood my ground, ran past attempts to block,
And claimed the winning touchdown for our school.
And as I lay there, having done my part—
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
A goldfinch came and landed on your heart.
​
BRIELLE
You mean the bird?
​
CALDWELL
‘Tis strange as it is true.
The bird and what my coach had said to me
Are known to those I played with and none else.
Please do come in and spend the day with me,
My mother, sister both are making food!
​
LAUREL (as Arlington)
I thank you kindly for you pains in this,
And I apologise for lack of notice.
It is a pleasure meeting Caldwell’s mom.
​
ELIZABETH
You are most welcome, and polite to boot.
A gentle heart, and yet, your mind is sharp,
To offer me such earnest pleasantries.
Why don’t you three all run off to the yard
And bask in what is left of this nice day?
​
IRONBOUND
But Madam, if I may, where is your husband?
I am, unlike so many in my town,
A fan of both his work and his great taste.
I hope he may become a fan of mine.
​
ELIZABETH
Brielle can show you where his study lies,
He sits in endless meetings there this day,
And sure I am that he can meet with you
But only if my daughter make him stop.
​
Brielle, Ironbound, Caldwell and Laurel exit severally.
​
When Thetis watched her son Achilles rage
To bury Hector at the gates of Troy,
I wonder did she think he raged for war,
Or glory, triumph, any manly thing
Before she learned it was for love of boys.
And now my Caldwell’s Patroclus is come
As this young saucy twink named Arlington.
Deny it I cannot, between those two
There is a bright and burning passion there
That wouldst make Pride flags fade in modesty,
A pastel backdrop to their flaming love.
And how could I have missed the signs from him?
Through high school had he girlfriends that he loved
In every way that teenage boys can do,
Though not in ways that parents won’t consent.
Shouldst I allowed him nearer women’s flesh?
‘Tis sinful, nay, as much as being gay—
O! Gay! He went to school and now he’s gay!
The cool pope did decree that being gay
Is not a sin if he don’t act upon’t!
Progressive though I thought this when I heard,
that is to tell a bird ‘tis sin to fly.
In cages birds can live with wings both clipped,
But is that hell a life that’s worth it’s heav’n?
I could not bear to see my child so.
But how to tell his father, or my dad,
or that guy down the street who thought Trump won.
Need I stand up against the folks that once
I spoke in grim accordance with on this,
That same-sex love is something to protest
and shame, however much they claim their pride?
I never thought my child could be gay,
And now a Christian’s mind and Mother’s gut
Do fight in rough contention o’er my heart.
It may still be that I imagine it.
Brielle will know the truth that I can’t see;
I will to her to ask her what she thinks
Before I start to act on my suspicions.
The rest of it is simply give it time,
And now to dinner and a glass of wine.