Scene 1
A bare stage with white walls. Across the walls is written, in its entirety, Jane Austen’s Emma.
Enter NARRATOR. He wears black and presents the prologue, which is acted out in dumb show by WILLIAM and JOHN. These two wear regency dress.
HEATH: John Eastleigh, wealthy, striking and bright, with a thriving business and an unyielding nature, seemed to present himself as the paragon of his high-standing community. His every need was met by a young page boy, who fell little short of a servant in assistance. (Spoken in unison with WILLIAM) Between them it was more the relationship of slavers. Even before John came into their employment, William’s treatment had not allowed any minor fault to go unpunished. (Only Narrator) The real evils of William’s temperament were his assumed superiority over almost all others, even where it was, perhaps, unwarranted. Sorrow came – though not in any form he could have predicted: Mrs Eastleigh requested a divorce.
Exit NARRATOR
WILLIAM: As I have said, John, I will not speak with her. She will come to her limited senses once she has spoken in her characteristically inane manner for a sufficient time. She is one of those women who are likely to talk incessantly and never hear another. Such prudence is not to be thought tolerable in a woman, or indeed in any man, any at all!
JOHN: Any man, sir?
WILLIAM: Say you? No, I beg you to listen whilst I am speaking! No, any man, but mostly any woman. For women’s mind are of such hollowness, that they must instead listen to the wise saws of men to fill them.
JOHN: Are they really, sir?
WILLIAM: Why, of course. After all, the empty vessel sounds the loudest. Yes it does. But she should follow your prime example, for you respect me as your superior, which of course I am.
Pause. MRS EASTLEIGH enters, seen only by JOHN
WILLIAM: Am I not? Am I not superior, to you, and to her?
MRS EASTLEIGH shakes her head at JOHN.
JOHN: I...I dare say you are sir.
WILLIAM: Good. Good.
Exeunt. Lights dim to near darkness.
Scene 2
Lights up slightly, sunset, or sunrise. Enter NARRATOR. WILLIAM, JOHN, and MRS EASTLEIGH, now in modern dress, act the chorus.
NARRATOR: Now Mrs Eastleigh failed in her suit. (Said with WILLIAM) But only as she realised the extent to which she relied upon her husband. (Now with MRS EASTLEIGH) But what might have happened, were they born in another time. Were her options less limited. Were her husband’s influence negated.
Exit.
MRS EASTLEIGH: No! Will, can you not- stop making this harder than it has to be, I…it can’t be any other way. Men like you have done this for generations; I’m going to live with John, alright? That’s how it is! (WILLIAM lunges for MRS EASTLEIGH) Get you- get off of me! (JOHN hits WILLIAM) Stop acting…it’s… not proper!
WILLIAM: proper! Don’t you talk to me about what is proper! You shun your own husband, just to run off with the bloody postman! (MRS EASTLEIGH attempts to interrupt) He brings our mail, Anne! How can you do this to me-?
MRS EASTLEIGH: Please don’t- just don’t you speak to…to me! You, my husband... no one cares if you’re a respected figure in our community, or if you’re from a wealthy family, or any of that! When do you think we live! It’s not the nineteenth bloody century Will!
WILLIAM: You can’t speak to me like that! I won’t let you!
This isn’t th’end of social caste!
From me you have not heard the last!
My lineage once would earn respect,
But to your will you me subject.
Is it cruel, unfair, unjust
To tell my wife have her I must?
Be it wrong, unkind, improper
To fight for her you love?
Good Mrs E, with adoration
Did I entice you to my bed,
But through your out of place flirtation,
From our glad house you are now fled.
Pause. MRS EASTLEIGH laughs.
MRS EASTLEIGH: You are really, fucking stupid, husband. (He tries to interrupt) No, no! You are. I don’t need you! I don’t need a man to provide for men, I have skills. There are things I can do, get a job, make my own way. I married too young, I can see that now, but I was so convinced that that was the only way I could survive. And how you’d love to believe that- love me...to believe that. But it’s not true, is it. I’m not leaving you because I don’t love you...I suppose I do, to an extent. I’m leaving because I can’t be the person I’m expected to...by you. I’m sorry, I-
JOHN and MRS EASTLEIGH leave. WILLIAM cries alone. Blackout
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