A Complete Astrophil

And so, nearly a year late, the recordings of all the sonnets and songs from Astrophil and Stella by Sir Philip Sidney are now online.  It's been a difficult process recording them - some are very good, some are so so, and many are very similar to the one before or after it.
It is a complete story, the love of a man for a lady, one which is doomed, and his roller coaster emotions.  It has a truth to it, in that it is clearly true to the authors feelings.  That isn't to say the text isn't problematic.  Stella is revered, says little and is there to be won.  The authors jealousy is corrosive and unpleasant.  It is the product of a masculine culture, his idea of love being positively adolescent.
Problematic as it is, and surprising to me because I chose these poems almost at random, I can see a performance piece for it.  With a paired down selection of the material and a small team I could create a really dark, anguished and critical piece of theatre about this mindset.
Whether I will, time will tell.
In the meantime, here is the complete sequence for you to judge for yourself.

God's Promises by John Bale - Act 7

Discussing the play with John the Baptist

In late 2013 I started to record God's Promises but quickly got very behind.  Since those first tentative steps I have upgraded my equipment and, to some degree, feel I want to start all over again.  However, we did record the introduction, the final scene and the closing speech and these are now available to listen - in a rough edit.  There were several textual issues which I don't think we have succeeded in clearing.  Firstly, the text is very dense.  It features a lot of argument, the kind you might expect from a theologian, especially one such as Bale who had the Protestant axe to grind.

The Prologue: Baleus Prolocutor
So, the opening and closing speeches are to be spoken by Bale or someone as him.  (We decided to ignore this in the recording, so that there was at least one female part in the production.  It also meant we could use the same actor to read stage directions without them being confused as another character.)  They are outside the text, the author directly addressing his audience, or perhaps more appropriately, his flock.  Making this Tudor text clear was a challenge and one which, in the short time span available, I don't know has succeeded.  But you may judge for yourself.  Hopefully anyone thinking of reading the play can use the recording to help guide them into the text.

listen to ‘God's Promises - by John Bale. Baleus Procolutor’ on Audioboo

Act Seven:  John the Baptist
We spent a little longer recording the completed scene seven.  The play is a running argument, starting with Adam and ending with John, encountering various Biblical figures along the way.  All argue with God to forgive mankind, and only with John does God relent - though, of course, he has already relented, having already sent Jesus into the world.

Cecil Qadir as John the Baptist

John begins by pleading with God that the worst excesses of man are past - this is a long list of people and names from the Bible, showing up the virtue of many good men.  When God reveals his plan, and that John will be Jesus' messenger to the world, John says he won't be of any use, he is as a child.  God then gifts him a golden tongue (this is a literal stage direction) and he then ends the play with a speech about his mission, ending in a song of praise.  We couldn't think of a way of turning the golden tongue into an audio event and used a narrator, and as we have no budget for music at this time, this is also indicated by the narrator.
Again, as we rehearsed this scene we had a long discussion about clarity.  The final recording is clearer than the opening and closing speeches, as it is a dialogue.  If you read the precis first, I suspect what is being said is clear.  However, out of context, without reading the above, I suspect most people will struggle.
This isn't, I hope, just because of our performances.  I suspect that the text, its very denseness, will always make this play a difficult proposition.  It is, oddly, harder to follow than an earlier play - it is caught between the more rigid rhyming verse of the medieval street theatre and the later public theatre voice.  That doesn't make the play uninteresting, just difficult, and I hope listening will reward your effort.

listen to ‘God's Promises by John Bale - Act 7’ on Audioboo

The Epilogue: Baleus Prolocutor
I find, listening back, that the closing speech is much clearer - but that could just be me.  It's possibly tempered by the fact that I've gone through the play before listening to it and am more attuned - which would also be the case for the audience.  It's a reminder of the message of the play and the importance of the Protestant interpretation of Christianity.

The light of our faith makes this thing evident,
And not the practice of other experiment.

The other being the Catholic interpretation.  This is a polemical work, designed to reference the Catholic drama of the middle ages but retooled for Protestant ears.  This kind of religious propaganda is short lived, lasting from the reformation to the reign of Elizabeth, with both sides of the divide flinging drama of this sort at each other.  It was divisive, dangerous and could not last.  Perhaps the reason why these plays have fallen out of favour is this lack of context.  The play doesn't need to involve inner conflict, because the conflict was off stage, the danger is in the existence of the play, not necessarily in the dramaturgy.  The challenge for a modern producer is to find a way of making these stakes evident.

listen to ‘God's Promises - by John Bale. Baleus Procolutor (Epilogue) ’ on Audioboo

The Reynes Extracts - An Epilogue

Here is the second of the Reynes extracts – I have previously blogged about the other A Speech of Delight.  This second fragment is an epilogue – perhaps to the same play, but it could easily be for any play of the period – a generic plea to the audience to forgive the players if they weren’t any good and not report them if they’d fluffed their lines – and some productions had strict rules over the players of plays, with fines exacted for being incompetent.  This short epilogue also mentions a church ale, which follows on from the production, suggesting both play and the ale were fundraisers for the local church.  One of the things we see with small scale medieval playing was it was often done to raise money for specific causes – the church roof for example.  Times don’t change.  I'm planning to use this speech in a production next year, popping it onto a play that doesn't have a proper ending.  That way this little speech will get to live in the real world once again - possibly the first time in a production for many hundreds of years.

listen to ‘An Epilogue - A Medieval Fragment’ on Audioboo

An Epilogue

Now worshipful sovereigns that sittyn here in sith

Lords and ladies and Franklins in fay

With all manner of obeisance we recommend us right

Pleasantly to your persons that present be in play.

And for your suffering silence that ye have kept this day

In playing of our play without any resistance

Dearly we thank you with might as we may

And for your laudable listening in good audience

That we have had this day.

And if we have passed any point in our playing

Or moved any matters in our saying

That should be to your persons displeasing

We beseech you report it not away.

For truly our intent was well to do

And if any fault be there found in it is our negligency

And short time advisement cause it also

For little time of learning we have had sickerly

And every man is not expert in eloquency

To utteryn his matter gaily unto your audience.

Wherefore we beseech you of your great gentry

The best to report of us in our absence

In every ilke a place.

Sovereigns all insame [in company]

Ye that are come to see our game

We pray you all in Gods name

To drink ere ye pass.

For an ale is here ordained by a comely assent

For all manner of people that appearyn here this day

Unto holy church to the increasement

All that exceedeth the costs of our play.

The Ashmole Fragment

The Ashmole Fragment is a tiny little scrap left over from a play now lost.  It really is blink and you’ll miss it.  It features one character - Secundus Miles (second soldier) – who speaks his loyalty to his Emperor – to defend him from any gedling (rascal) and then to a high priest – offering his dagger to Mahound (or in modern terms Mohammed – a name generally used as an oath in medieval drama, ironically, by anyone who was a bit pagan).  It isn’t clear what the surrounding play was – something with a tyrant and priests, and whilst Herod springs to mind, there are plenty of other biblical stories that could use the same motif.

listen to ‘The Ashmole Fragment’ on Audioboo

SECUNDUS MILES:

Sure Emperor, dread ye no thing!

If there be any fresh gedling [rascal]

That would you grieve with any thing,

In word or in deed,

By the beard I shall him shake

That his skull shall all to crake [crack]

And his soul from him take

And roast him over a glede. [fire]

To the high priest

O Mahound, thou great God and true,

Lowuely [handsome] and also meek of hue,

Offer to thee I will new

A dagger that is good and fine.

And all else is lost.

A Speech of 'Delight'

Sometimes history is a bitch.  A tiny fragment of a play appears from no where and it's beautiful and lovely and interesting and that's all you get.  A Speech of 'Delight' is one such bittersweet pill.  It is one of two bits of medieval drama known as the Reynes extracts, dating to sometime in the late fifteenth century.  It is a chunk of dialogue by a character in (probably) a morality play – a character called Delight.  He (most probably young, as he is called a lad) is in conversation with other characters about his nature – and another character (female) hopes out loud that he isn’t someone interested in the 'holy'.  Which he isn't as Delight tells us how he delights in the world, on physical pleasures and the beauty of the world around it.  This would, in the original play, almost certainly have been a bad thing – being too attached to the physical world rather than the spiritual - his delight in the world probably leading to temptations and sin.  But, whilst a proud figure, it is also a really rather lovely speech – taken out of context it’s a joyful account of what the world has to offer.  Beautiful scenery, animals and, towards the end, beautiful women – which contains my favourite part of the speech.  Sadly, when he has finished introducing himself, he stops talking and, apart from an even shorter epilogue to the piece (to be looked at later), we know no more about it.

Below is the text I performed on my radio show, which I have recorded again as a dialogue.  I’ve made modernisations to the text, trying to leave in as much that is comprehensibly old as possible.  

We open with an exchange of dialogue – but without any indications who is speaking what.  Delight obviously enters to other characters already on stage.  The group already onstage is mostly male, but contains a woman.  In my recording I've had her speak both the opening lines and the reply, but it is possible that another male of the group speaks the first three lines instead.  You could cut it up a number of ways - but this is the most logical.

listen to ‘A Speech of 'Delight' - A Medieval Fragment’ on Audioboo

Enter DELIGHT

UNKNOWN CHARACTER/S:  

Lo, here is a lad light

All fresh I you plight

Gallant and jolly.

DELIGHT:  Will ye know what I hight?

My name, sirs, is Delight.

UNKNOWN CHARACTER (FEMALE):

I hope not full holy!

DELIGHT:

Holy, quoth she?  Nay, let be!

By Christ, it accordeth not with me

But sport, mirth and play

Me rejoiceth for to see

The world’s wonders and vanity

Therein delight I ay.

For me semet it is to delight

To behold the firmament light

The course of stars to ken

The sun with his beams bright

The moon how he refulsyth the night

The planets in her circumference ren.

The skies in her colours rake

The therke [dark] sladdes of clouds black -

This rejoiceth me above.

Then of the earth delight I take

To see the florent woods their leaves shake

The rivers running by, there in divers fishes move.

I see these high hills where is the wholesome air

Beneath, the redolent meadows with their flowers fair

The therke mists how it ascends

In the valleys of the corns ilke air

I see divers fowls to the woods repair

There sweetly singing me mekyl amends.

I see in these gay gardens, where wholesome herbs spring

There pererys [pear-trees], the pomerys [orchards], the vines that sweet fruits bring

The red roses and the lilies white

I see in the great sea there, ships ever sailing

Also how it ebbit and flowit and fishes there in swimming

The waves how they waltyr [roll] and see the qwall [whales or similar] fight.

In the hore heaths I see the hare start

The forant dear hunted, the buck and the hart

And the swift greyhounds run;

The fox hunted with hounds in the great covert

The swift flight of hawks, the fowls revert

The falconers running through thick and through thin.

Also I am greatly delightand

In fair course swiftly runand

In harneys [armour] glidring bright;

Stately houses beheldand

Glassed with stories glassand

Pinnacles full of flags gloriously dight.

Precious array, that pleaseth me greatly,

The sweet musician in divers melody

The comeliness of each creature

And the beauty of women specially

With their white paps, popped up prately –

They passeth all other, as me semet in sure.

Me seeing now these salacious siths

Therefore in them all my delight is

So sovereignlyche [supremely] aboven all

This world so preciously pight is

Therein delight I with all mine mirth is

As for well most special.

The Chester Plays 7 & 8 - The Shepherds & Magi and Herod

Play 7 - The Shepherds Play.  After a couple of weeks looking at some distinctly odd plays, which seem to suffer from that terrible disease being-severely-buggered-about-with, we're back into open territory again and we get down to a more straightforward kind of storytelling.  The Shepherds play is idiosyncratic, as each of the many Shepherds plays are, but it is a complete whole, it has only one hint at obvious alteration and nothing so invasive as with some of the earlier plays.  There was a palpable sense of relief for the readers at the event that this time we were doing a play with a neat beginning, middle and end, not a play which dances around and is interrupted by an Expositor, whose arguments were not necessarily convincing.  (See previous Chester blogs.)

listen to ‘Chester Plays 7.1: Shepherds’ on audioBoom

The Chester Shepherds play does have marked similarities with plays from the other cycles.  There is the sense of realism of their life, the complaints and difficulties of raising sheep - an important animal in late medieval England.  The first shepherd - who, like all his fellows is named (though for ease of use I will stick to numbers here) - speaks first about the practical vetting of sheep, of the herbs and simples used in keeping them healthy.  It is quite detailed and suggests specialist knowledge.  Two other shepherds gather and they start to arrange their food and here hit a question the text didn't quite answer.  The foods they describe are ridiculous in their excess - it is a comic list of delicious foods, which they seem to pull out of bags and coats for theatrical effect, different dishes appearing from different folds of coats and bags in an amusingly impossible way.  The audience is invited to ask themselves, 'where's the next food stuff going to come from next?'  It is a grotesque spectacle and presumably designed to show that they're actually relatively wealthy - less Shepherds and more landowners, as opposed to the man they use to look after the sheep and the various boys they also exploit (more on them later).
[But there's an alternative way of staging the scene.  Perhaps the food they talk about is mimed - a non-display of everything a relatively poor Shepherd can't have.  Bigger and bigger mimes of bigger and bigger plates of food, ending, finally, in their actual food, which could be quite meager fare.  But I seem to be a minority of one on this suggestion.]

listen to ‘Chester Plays 7.2: Shepherds’ on audioBoom

They settle down to eat something and call their herdsman to them - they blow a horn and presumably use the note to then sing - which the stage direction states they do.  Garcius then joins them and there is a clear social difference between them.  It is this sense of a hierarchy - that the Shepherds are top of a relative heap in the social world that opens the possibility that they DO have vast amounts of food on their person, for they are proved, shortly, to be a bit mean.
Their herdsman is a comic ruffian, who states clearly that he'll sleep where he falls and piss where he stands, and who refuses their offer of food, demanding instead (not unreasonably) to be paid.  He is willing to fight for his rights and wrestles with the shepherds for his due - and he wins.  The other Shepherds grumble about being bested and sit down to a grumble.

TERTIUS PASTOR. Though we be weary no wonder

what between wrastling and waking.

Oft we may be in thought we be now under
God amend it with his making.

listen to ‘Chester Plays 7.3: Shepherds’ on audioBoom

And it is with this mention of God that the star appears and they are shocked at its brightness.  They then turn even further from their earthly distractions and kneel and pray.  More music now, as the Angel sings of the coming Christ and they listen in wonder.  Once this concert is complete they struggle to agree what was sung.  They take it in turns singing chunks of text, comically and rather sweetly, getting it wrong and yet teasing out the meaning as they go - often responding emotionally to what was sung.

"He sang also of a 'Deo’ [Deus - in this context, Jesus]
me thought that healed my heart."

They then sing a song in response - 'troly loly loly loo' - and decide to visit the child - which means they have understood what the Angel was singing, because they decide to go before the Angel appears to speak with them in dialogue.  They travel towards the star and are in the general area of Bethlehem - the Angel is waiting for them and moves them on.  Though there isn't a stage direction for it these lines suggest as they make their final way they sing again.

And sing we all I rede

some mirth to his majesty

for certain now see we it indeed:
the king Son of heaven is he.

listen to ‘Chester Plays 7.4: Shepherds’ on audioBoom

Upon visiting the stable they speak in wonder at Joseph and Mary and their age difference, (his beard gets quite a mention).  Mary and Joseph explain how worthy and chaste the birth was - as per the previous play.  The shepherds all give their humble gifts, after swiftly emptying their pockets and deciding who should go first - by order of age it seems.

PRIMUS PASTOR. Who shall go first? The page?  [Garcius]

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Nay you be father of age
Therefore must you first offer.

And here's where some probable later interference comes in.  After the four men have had their bit, suddenly four boys, never referenced before - except possibly obliquely - appear and give homage as well, fighting between themselves as to who has the right to go first.  They suggest a later addition, where an opportunity for some young boys has been crow-barred in, rather like additional cute kids being added to an amateur pantomime cast to help get more mums and dads along to watch.  It has little to do with what came before or after and doesn't add much, just a repetition.
The shepherds then part, humbler and wiser, to devote themselves to holy orders or prayer.  It's quite a sad, moving ending to a play that is fun and knockabout for most of the text.

The next play (eight) is the meeting of the Magi with Herod and is a shorter affair.

listen to ‘Chester Plays 8.1: Magi & Herod’ on audioBoom

The Three Kings meet to recount the prophecies of Balaam, justifying the inclusion of play five in the cycle - it's the last of the Old Testament plays and directly links the prophesies with the coming of Jesus.  There is none of the business in other versions of the Kings meeting each other for the first time and going through a range of introductions.  They are already a unit and they know they're task - they frequently make this pilgrimage to look for a sign that the Christ child is coming.  The Kings, riding on horse back, go to pray at a mountain - literally the same mountain as in the Balaam and Balak play - both in terms of stage property/setting and location within the text - returning the scene of the original prophesy for guidance.  Once there they kneel and an Angel shows them the star.  Given the general direction, which must be to desert terrain as they now mount camels, they head off in earnest.
It's worth going over this action again.  In the space of a few minutes, we've met the three Kings, travelled with them to a mountain on horseback, seen a star and then watched them ride off on camels to the land of Herod.  This asks a lot of questions about how this play and the others were staged - because there seem to be a number of playing areas - pageant wagons/scaffolds, with journeying between them among the audience.  The horses could literally be horses that they ride into the space with - a dramatic entrance to the play.  They discourse on why they're there - but what they're saying isn't as important as their appearance - the audience will be busy adjusting to their appearance, watching them enter and pick their way to the mountain.  They either have servants with them, or ask the audience to help with the horses (something not completely implausible in a horse driven society) with this line:

Say fellow take this courser

and abide me right here.

Once on the mountain - quite possibly the same mountain as in play five - they ask God for direction.  A star then appears and they are so surprised at the appearance that they start speaking in French (an indication of their status) - luckily they repeat the sentiment in English.  Then an Angel appears to them and they kneel.  The Angel tells them to get up and follow the star to Jude - which suggests the Angel carries the star away with it, as there are numerous references to the star doing different things it's difficult to tell.  But if the Angel takes the star then they must follow and so they move onto camels.

Now, even if they had real horses for their entrance (for which we cannot be sure) they definitely didn't have camels - so these are probably comic - hobbyhorses for a bit of fun.  The text is quite light on the subject.

TERTIUS REX. A dromodarye in good fay

will go lightly on his way

an hundreth miles upon a day

such corsers now take we.

There is a stage direction saying they go about, 'riding' among the audience and perhaps following the Angel with the star, leading them a merry dance.  

Then the star disappears and the Kings are left (presumably in the audience) with no direction to follow.  And it is now they meet a messenger of Herod.  They tell him what they're looking for and he tells them that if they go to Herod with their tale of a rival they won't be thanked.

EXPLORATER. Hold your peace sirs I you pray!

For if King Herod heard you so say

he would go wood* by my fay     *[mad]

and fly out of his skin.

But they decide to go anyway, in the blinking of a stage direction.  Explorater, the messenger, goes ahead to the pageant wagon/scaffold to announce them where, with the aide of music, Herod makes his entrance.  They greet each other in Norman French, as Kings should do and Herod makes his usual boasts of power, as all Herods tend to do.  

listen to ‘Chester Plays 8.2: Magi & Herod’ on audioBoom

Again we see crossover with the Balaam and Balak play - as Herod has similarities to King Balaam in terms of stage craft.  He shifts between general boasting to rage in the turn of a stanza and there are stage directions for physical business, where he gestures with a staff or sword - though in what way this stage business worked isn't clear.  It maybe that when he's trying to be Kingly he uses his staff, and when he's enraged he uses his sword - but that's just a suggestion on my part, because he may only have one or the other, not both.  

On hearing of Jesus he consults his learned Doctor (though there could be more than one of them) to confirm the three Kings story and in his increasing rage at the number of prophesies he breaks his sword.  It isn't clear how much or well this Herod hides his anger from the three Kings - his first outburst would have been in their present, though he might have consulted the Doctor in a separate part of the stage.  Though his manner changes as he speaks to the Kings there isn't the sense that he's actively trying to fool them that he is overjoyed at the appearance of a rival King.  There is almost no exchange with the Kings afterward as he sends them on their way, asking them to pop in later with news.  The turn around is very shift, though not impossible, and you could hardly expect the Kings to witness him breaking his sword and need an Angel later to warn them not to return.

The Kings go and Herod has a drink to drown his sorrows, making the final speech to close the play, a speech drowned in self pity.  You can see him waving his staff and his broken sword and railing at the child who has passed him the drink.  Already in this play the plan for the slaughter of the innocents has been touched upon and the audience will know it won't be long till they see it.

Exploring the Chester Mystery Plays - Plays 7 & 8 - featured Liz Cole, Robert Crighton, Annie Eddington, Michael Harding, Kevin Roychowdhury, Alan Scott and Adam Webster.
Live Streaming by Tim Regester, Autocue by Marion Tuke, photos by Mark Pavelin - with Bex Johnson in dictionary corner.  Thanks to the Quay Theatre for hosting the event and the use of their broadband!

The Chester Plays 5 & 6 - Balaam and Balak & The Nativity

We explored these plays in a slightly fraught way this last Sunday - having been banished from our usual space to the public theatre bar - so the recording is a little more frazzled this week and, in my confusion, I make a few statements that are completely and utterly wrong - helped by the confusing nature of play five.
[The Chester recordings have now been archived and are below - I have edited out any howlers in terms of my general confusion.  Credits and photos at the bottom of the post.]

Two distinctly odd plays were looked at this week, following on from the increasingly fragmented play structures of last time - where the Abraham play danced around three episodes, interspersed with exposition.
There is an important question that has to be asked about the dramaturgy - are the jump cuts between scenes and locations an artistic decision or part of the later post-reformation general buggering about of the plays - or a bizarre mixture of the two.  It seems to me, as a dramatist and actor, that a lot of the material is very brief, like excerpts of a completer play - and the additions of an expositor do not aide the flow of the storytelling - in fact, it shows up how disjointed the plays seem to be.  Compared with the first play - the fall of Lucifer - the following five are, increasingly, a mess.  The first is self contained, clear in purpose and shows what it is about through the drama on the stage, not through exposition.  The second play follows suit, but has a few odd jumps in time and hints at the truly weird storytelling of plays 4 and 5.
To add to the confusion Play 5 survives in two distinct versions (there are more than one, but only two distinct ones, as it were).  I've been following one surviving text of the plays for our live explorations up to this point, but have jumped to another for this play for purely practical reasons - it's shorter and has fewer characters.  This is the version which doesn't have a scene at the end with the prophets, which (again, odd chopping up of plays) is usually a play in itself in other cycles and sudo-cycles.
The prophet play is usually fairly static, a long line of prophets making prophecies about the coming Christ.  It acts as a buffer between the old and New Testament sections and as almost an in breath dramatically.  The audience will have had several fairly dramatic episodes so far - a nice sedate play is welcome before the action begins again.  But, in the context of an already crowded and disjointed play, I wasn't sad to miss it here.
What play 5 does have is a brief Moses section, mostly speeches between Moses and God, without any of the plagues of Egypt business which we get in other plays.  It is incredibly brief and almost an afterthought, as the Moses plays often feel to be.  There are several reasons for this, one is the problematic relationship between the Old Testament stories and those of the New, but also practical ones.  The story of Moses isn't a neat episode in itself, it's a whole mini-cycle.  To make it function dramatically you need to treat it over a number of episodes.  There is plenty of evidence that this was done with Abraham - for, though we are mostly familiar with the sacrifice of Issac as an episode in it's own right, the Townley Cycle continues the story onwards into two other plays.  The Chester Cycle may have done something similar, even if the final texts to reach us are truncated versions of those plays.  It would explain the odd structure.
But there doesn't seem to be a corresponding multi-episode Moses narrative.  He's a bridge between the Old and New Testament passages, sometimes, as here, truncated with a Prophets play.  And so the dramatist has to find a way to make the Moses play have enough weight in it's own right.  Plus there's a question of the scale of the stories.  It's easy enough to enact Moses coming down from the mountain and telling everyone about the ten commandments, it's a bitch to stage the plagues of Egypt and the parting of the Red Sea - though other cycles do have a go.
Also, there's a problem of theme.  The first four plays of this cycle, except for elements of the Abraham play, all link together very well - there are the repeated themes of pride vs obedience to God's will and the prefiguring of Christ in the characters of Abel and Isaac.  The Moses story, so large and so complex, doesn't fit into the template, doesn't fit into the larger story being told.  And yet these halfway house plays appear, made worse in Chester by the aforementioned general buggering about with the text in the later stages of it's life.  This mention of Moses feels like an appendix to me, like a cutaway of a larger play, or the insertion of a later hand with the accompanying narration by a Doctor to explain why it's there. My professional instinct, as a theatrical man, would be to cut the whole play from performance in a cycle - an instinct largely followed by every modern version of the cycles that have been staged in modern times.

Having dispensed with a brief cameo from Moses the dramatist (I should probably say dramatists) moves swiftly onto the Balaam and Balak episode, where King Balak (a heathen) calls the prophet Balaam (similarly moderately heathen) to him, for to curse the people of Israel.  God tells Balaam not to go, but on he goes and on the road an Angel appears before him and the ass he is riding (no sniggering at the back there) refuses to go on.  Unable to see the Angel himself, Balaam beats the ass, which is given the power of speech to remonstrate with his master.

The episode of the ass is presumably performed in a pantomime fashion and has room for physical humour - but it is incredibly brief.  Balaam is allowed to see the Angel, who lets him proceed - so warned - and tells him not to say what King Balak wants.  On Balaam goes to the King and they climb a mountain - the stage directions indicate it has different sides - and he is repeatedly asked to curse the people of Israel, which he refuses to do.  This he does looking out at different directions on the mountain and each time the King gets more angry.  Before the King gets so incensed as to do an injury to Balaam, he tells the King how to trick the Jews into wickedness and so bring their own destruction.  This plan - involving collecting beautiful women to entrap the people of Israel - is explained with aplomb and seems to go down well.  Re-enter Expositor to wrap things up.

There are so many questions raised by this text.  How familiar was it to the medieval audience?  It's immensely obscure now and I can't help but think it was even more so then - but stories go in and out of fashion and maybe it was a popular favourite?  It isn't reproduced in any of the other cycles or similar that survive, but that could be due to dumb luck.
So, the story is (possibly) obscure, the staging is brief and the exposition is very long.  What are the reasons for its existence?  It's hardly a central part of the narrative, especially as it jockeys out space for a longer Moses play.  The lengthy exposition suggests that in later years the narrative was considered very problematic.
The character of King Balak is interesting, as are the notes to business the actor would have performed; there are various references to business when he draws and sheaths his sword.  He is obviously not a nice chap, but he's nowhere near to a screaming Herod, there are levels to his dialogue.
The end of the play mentions that they'll get onto the Nativity tomorrow - which is odd, as the established pattern of playing has it that plays were presented either on one day, or over three - but the established split for the three day version comes later in the cycle.  Was this version of the play performed separately at some point, or were the plays performed in a completely different structure sometime in their lives?  History gives no answer.

Onto play 6 and the Nativity - which is similarly a difficult text to interpret.  We start off sedately enough with the annunciation.

But rather than sticking with a straightforward story of a journey and birth, the play is inter-cut with scenes involving Octavian (Augustus) Caesar and a Sybil.  The purpose of Octavian in the play is not immediately apparent, but there are several good reasons for the approach.  Firstly, it neatly sets the action in a world similar to ours - a ruler sets taxes, what could be more modern?  This is a different world from the ancient days of the Old Testament.  Octavian is an historically, as well as Bibically, extant person and it's a nice detail from the gospels to enact.  The play could open with him, as a nice opening gambit, for context alone.  But he doesn't appear until after the opening scenes with Mary and Joseph.  A narrator - quite randomly - bursts onto the playing area almost mid action.

NUNTIUS:  Make room lordings and give us way
and let Octavian come and play

and Sybil the sage that well faire may

to tell you of prophecy.

That lord that died on Good Friday 

he save you all, both night and day.

Farewell lordings. I go my way,

I may no longer abide.

And off he goes again.  It's somewhat bathetic - something of the Mechanicals in A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Enter Octavian - he makes the usual boastful cries of a lesser Herod, commanding and prideful.  He calls his messenger to go out and announce his new tax and (in a scene similar to the King in The Pride of Life) offers this messenger great rewards for his pains - including a woman of his choice.
The Senators then offer to make Octavian a God - and here he displays un-Herod like qualities, pointing out he is but a man and no God.  But this could be strategy - as with Julius Caesar in Shakespeare's play - as he does relent to ask the Sybil first what she thinks of the idea.

So instructed, she prays.

Jump cut to Preco, the messenger, out and about - making his announcement of the new tax.  Joseph hears and we remain with him.  We see in the play a chain of command, from the highest in the land, eventually down to the lowest - Joseph (and Joseph, a semi-comic figure, is always pretty low, prone to self pity).  This is in contrast with the earlier thread - the messenger from Rome is contrasted with Gabriel, the messenger from God.
A purpose for the secondary plot is possibly revealed.  Not only have we two threads of contrasting action, between various strata of society, the dramatist can move the action along by jumping between them.  Action is telescoped and scenes inter-cut swiftly.  The action of the first half of the play has moved along with great speed - a brief appearance of an angel to Mary - Mary's journey to Elizabeth - somehow already visibly pregnant (for the moment Joseph appears he can see she has obviously, to him, been busy in his absence) - then, without any indication of how, the two ladies are ignored and Joseph is talking to the audience and leaving her behind - where the Angel reassures him and he returns to her.  Jump-cut - and my continued analogy of film is appropriate - to Octavian and his plans for a general poll tax - this scene ends with his tax gatherer making a general speech to 'the people' - one of which is a very unhappy Joseph, who comments on the unfairness of a poll tax as opposed to an income based system.

He decides to take an ox with him to Bethlehem, so that he can sell it there to pay the tax - which is both practical and helps set up the image of the baby being laid between the ox and the ass in the stable - possibly the only account that explains how the ox came to also be in the stable in the first place.
Another interesting addition to the birth of Jesus is the appearance of two midwives - who the, somewhat feckless Joseph, rushes off to get for his wife.  The birth itself is side stepped in the text as something that between two lines of dialogue just happens.  No mention how - though it is suggested the midwives have little to do with it.  Mary claims the birth was doubly miraculous because she felt no pain.  One midwife (Tebell) praises God for the arrival of the Christ, the other (Salome) is doubtful.

Salome is punished for disbelieving that this was a virgin birth - so that when she reaches down to examine Mary's 'sex secret' (i.e. vagina - translation of the Latin courtesy of Google translate!) for proof of her virginity (as if after giving birth this will prove anything) the midwife's hand withers.  An Angel then appears to explain that only by asking the baby Jesus' forgiveness does it heal.  (Nobody thinks to ask if Mary wanted her 'secret sex' touched, or what she thinks - but the baby is ready to do the healing and everything turns out fine. I am reading too much into this by suggesting that the author considers a male infant more important than a woman?  I know he's the baby Jesus, but come on!)

The scene breaks and there is then a lengthy story told by the expositor.

EXPOSITOR:  Loe, lordings, of this miracle here

friar Bartholomew, in good manner,

beareth witness without were

as played is you beforne.

And other miracles if I may

I shall rehearse, or I go away,

that befell that ilke day

that Jesus Christ was born.

It's a story that a temple with an equestrian statue was build in Rome to honour Peace - and that the devil had a hand in its creation.  The devil is asked when the temple will fall and he says (with future echoes of the prophecies of the three witches in Macbeth) that it will stand until a child is born of a virgin.

They heard and believed therefore

it should endure for evermore,

but that time that Christ was bore

it fell down soon in hie.

So giving a miracle to the birth of this particular prince.
I go into a little detail of this passage, a. because it's an interesting little story and b. because it asks an interesting question.  The Expositor bridges the end of the birth of Jesus section with the final appearance of Octavian - does this mean that the Expositor moves from one space to another to draw the eye of the spectators to the next area of action, or is his appearance to allow some change of scenery in a single space.  The indications of the stage craft of the first five plays is that there is room for manoevuer between a variety of playing areas - that the plays are not expected to obey strict rules of performance.  There is much made of travelling between places - is this another instance?
Additionally there is the line: "beareth witness without were / as played is you beforne." Was the Expositor narrating some sort of dumb show?  Should we adjust our view of the figure, which unadorned is rather dry, as a storyteller working with the rest of the team of players - rather than a jumped up know-it-all who keeps getting in the way.  In the event that we get round to fully staging these plays, this is definitely an area for exploration.
Upon this note we return to Octavian who seems to go through a conversion - seeing the star of Bethlehem in the sky - which has, in a stage direction, just been displayed.  As he sees the star, he has a vision.

OCTAVIAN: Ah Sybil, this is a wondrous sight

for yonder I see a maiden bright

a young child in her arms clight
a bright cross in his head.

The first reference in the plays so far to the ultimate fate of Jesus (not including Expositors or outside narrators).  He then offers thanks to the new God, does a u-turn on any suggestion that as Caesar he is a God on earth and is rewarded with the singing of an Angel.  He then tells his senators to spread the word of Jesus' coming.  It's quite a sweet, if completely impossible, scene.
The Expositor returns to claim that a temple to Mary was dedicated at this time and is still standing to this day.  This is also a bizarre nonsense.
Only one interesting anachronism of note this time - Preco, all purpose servant, announcer etc to Octavian says:

PRECO:  All ready my lord, by Mahound.

Yup, that would be our first use to the corrupted name Mohammed, founder of another religion, not to be born for another six hundred years.  It won't be the last time this name will be used as an oath in these plays - and by considerably worse people.
Play 6 is in many ways as confusing a text as play 5, except that on the whole, there is a far greater sense of deliberation to the structure.  It isn't a matter of random scenes being strung together - there is design to the text.  Whereas I could believe that play 5 is a condensed, cut down version of two or even three separate pieces, play 6 is designed as a unified whole.  That said, it isn't wholly satisfying as a play.  It feels cut, the scenes are very brief, the action - for all the benefits of a fast cutting structure - undeveloped.

Next time - the Shepherds and the meeting of the Magi and Herod.  [This was explored at the Quay Theatre, Sudbury, two weeks later - full posting to follow.]

Exploring the Chester Mystery Plays - Plays 5 & 6 Featured Liz Cole, Robert Crighton, Michael Harding, Kevin Roychowdhury, Alan Scott and Adam Webster.
Live Streaming by Tim Regester, Autocue by Marion Tuke, photos by Mark Pavelin - with Bex Johnson in dictionary corner.

Robert addressing the microphone
- Tim Regester (background) doing the live streaming -
Marion Tuke running the autocue

Kevin Roychowdhury at the microphone

Michael Harding at the microphone

Marion Tuke at the autocue

Liz Cole as the Sybil

Alan Scott - prepping for his turn at the microphone

Adam Webster with Kevin, following the script