Early in the morning, William Shakespeare answers a knock on the door. It is Pastor Alfonso de Florencia. Not wanting to appear rude to a member of the priesthood, William invites Pastor de Florencia in and offers him some tea.
“Will, Will, Will,” the Pastor states, “I have no time for pleasantries. I have come to discuss your immortal soul.”
Sensing the seriousness of the Pastor’s intentions, Will seats himself to listen.
“I have been told by reliable sources whom I believe implicitly that you are currently working on a play about a man who murders his mother and her new husband. Is this correct?”
“Well, not right away,” Shakespeare explains. “In fact, he goes through a great deal of agonized contemplation before he finally does the deed.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, I feel that this sets a very bad example for the people who frequent your plays. It is clearly destructive of the traditional family unit, and may inspire impressionable persons to kill their relatives in imitation of the acts they see on stage.”
“Ah. But – ah. Yes, but the play opens with the main character being visited by the ghost of his dead father.”
“A ghost?”
“Indeed. You see, the father tells him that he was actually murdered by his – the son’s – mother and her current husband. Surely, no reasonable son could live without seeing such perfidy punished.”
“Visited by a ghost, you say?”
“That is correct. Yes.”
“Well, then, you have convinced me.”
“I have?”
“Absolutely. You have convinced me that your main character is a complete nutter. Moved to commit mayhem upon hearing the voice of a dead man? Surely, Will, such a thing should not be allowed on any decent British stage.”
“Ah.”
“I am led to understand that the play ends with a sword duel in which several of the characters are gored.”
“Was that…a question?”
“No.”
“Ah. Well, not all of the characters are cut down by swords.”
“No?”
“No. The main character’s mother is killed by drinking from a poisoned chalice.”
“Ah. Well, let us remain on the subject of the gore.”
“As you wish, Pastor de Florencia.”
“As described to me, this play that you are currently working in contains the utmost in depravity. The fact that it is based on real people and historical events makes it all the worse. I have come here today to ask that you not produce this play.”
“Pastor, I will allow that there is…extreme behaviour in the play. However, the theatre allows us to explore extreme behaviour safely, without serious consequence.”
“Will…some subjects are too depraved to be the subject of art, no matter how well intentioned. Your play could incite passions that could have terrible consequences for people throughout the kingdom.”
“You don’t know that. The play hasn’t been staged yet – in fact, I am only just starting to write it.”
“Well, precisely. Better to stop it now than to let it get too far.”
“But, Pastor, if I do not write about this, what shall I write about?”
“Unicorns.”
“Unicorns?”
“I understand that they are very popular with the people.”
“So...perhaps...a play about a unicorn whose dead unicorn father visits him and warns him that his unicorn mother and her new unicorn husband conspired in his murder –would that be acceptable, Pastor?”
“Will, are you.. .mocking me?”
“Absolutely not, Pastor.”
“Because I am just a humble servant. When you mock me, you mock the Church, and she is not nearly as forgiving as I.”
“No -”
“Not nearly as forgiving.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you. So, what else have you been working on?”
“Well, I have this play set in ancient Rome -”
“A historical play! That’s always good - gives the audience a chance to learn something.”
“It’s about a conspiracy to murder the.. .umm.. .the - never mind...”