Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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20 The Branksome Slogan Sir Harry: Gently, gently, Ben. Why so thoughtful, Will? Shakespeare: I ' ve just been thinking of my last visit with Anne in Stratford. You know, lads, I believe I ' ll be moving there soon for good. Sir Harry : Odds fish ! In the country ! When your plays and sonnets are the delight of London ! Do you want to have grunting sows for kindred spirits, then ? Man, you must be mad ! Shakespeare: Good old Sir Harry. You have the true Londoner ' s atti- tude about the country, haven ' t you? I love London, too— the excitement, the bustle, the glamour of it. It ' s a vital part of my life. But none of you can realize the richness and serenity of the life of a gentleman farmer. He is a man of esteem in Warwichshire ; he isn ' t looked on with suspicion and contempt as GRADUATING CLASS Front Riow — Prefects: B. Pattison, H. Parry, P. Stewart, J. Peat, J. Plaunt, L. Landrith, J. Bradfield, A. McCoy. D. Griffith. 2nd! Row — G. Fisher, J. Chalmers, P. Clark, E. Busk, M. Cobban, E. Capener, P. Bell-Irvine. P. McConnell, M. J. Hall. M. Whyte 3rd Row — T. Woodward, S. Browne. P. Ctowie, M. Smith, E. Tustine. P. Eshelby. M. Heintzman, J. Trethewey, G. Millar. 4th Row — R. Miller. M. Powell. E. Henderson, I. Hyams, E. Winter, M. Hanson, Z. Friedman, E. Cobb, E. Fleming, G. Tyler. 5th Row — N. Emory. M. Jones, D. Mansell. B. Baalim, M. McCulloch, M. Dodds. M. J. Phelan, M. Schwartz. J. Cameron. 6th Row— T. Rogers, M. L. Gillies. M. Bell, S. Peterkin, J. Murray, N. Rendell, F. Coulter, C. Cooper, H. Edwards. 7th Row — I. Grant, M. Gauchat, M. Winston, M. Stcbie, G. Hen- derson, G. Co ' Ckburn, B. Jack. E. Scarlett. M. Sloan, J. Riddell.

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The Branksome Slogan 19 Sir Francis Bacon: Let their tongues wag. It will be choice scandal for a few days, and then I will be forgotten for some new intrigue or love affair. Sir Harry: Perhaps. But you ' ve been airing your views rather strongly lately, especially when you denounced Aristotle ' s philosophj as a childish delusion which had produced no fruit. I hear that one of the Oxford professors took offence, and tried to bribe George Chapman to lampoon you in his next play. Sir Francis Bacon: (laughing nastily) I think our worthy professor should be advised not to make any rash moves. Perhaps he has forgotten Sir Francis Bacon ' s nimble tongue. Ben Jonson: Here come our inseparable pair, Beaumont and Fletcher. (Laughter.) Ah! and here ' s gentle Will at last. You ' re late tonight. Will Will Shakespeare: Fve been at the Globe. We were having a reading of Macbeth. Banquo has come down with smallpox and Fm hav- ing a devil of a time with our new man. Ben Jonson: (rapping on the table) Ann-i-ee. A round of Canary wine. And Where ' s your good husband, Jacko? Annie: ' e ' ll be here presently, sir. Six canaries coming up h ' in a jiffy, sir. Ben Jonson : Will, Sir Francis was expatiating over his favorite theory when you came in. It seems to me that, although he seeks to discover Truth, he also seeks to monopolize it, eh ? Shakespeare : Perhaps. But then, much can be said on both sides. Sir Francis Bacon: The trouble with you five gentlemen is that you busy yourself uselessly with romance and ancient philosophy. Ben Jonson: (Spluttering) And who are you to set yourself on a ped- estal above the classics? Why dammit, men, the philosophers and dramatists of Greece and Rome have created a wealth of literature that has spanned the centuries. English drama will per- ish dismally, and soon, if this flagrant disregard of the classics and this careless mixing of comedy and tragedy continue. I . . .

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The Branksome Slogan 21 we writers are. Nor can you know of the charm of Stratford. I ' ll never forget the dank, crumbling cellars of Kenilworth, nearby, where we would play make-believe for hours on end as boys. And I ' ll always remember the honest old farmers. I ' ll tell you, you can get a wealth of knowledge from them that you could never find in any classroom. Behind all their gossip and vulgarity a profound poetry is sleeping. Beaumont: Richard Corbett, you old devil, come over and join us. Whatever is that strange-looking derelict with you? Another of your practical jokes? The whole city is still laughing about you masquerading as a ballad singer and raking in a fine profit — and you a minister, too ! Corbett: (Laughing) Here ' s a sui ' prise for you all. This man, my friend, is a ship-wrecked sailor who w as given up for lost for over a year. Ben Jonson: Where ' s he been, Richard? Corbett: On some islands called the Be rmudas, apparently for ten whole months. He ' s been telling me all about them. They ' re myster- ious islands, full of weird, unknown sounds and strange magic. Sir Francis Bacon: Have a drink, son. You must have conjured up a fine thirst on your ' ' Magical Islands. Ben Jonson : Will, why do you look so odd ? Shakespeare: A storm — shipwreck — a haunted island full of inex- plicable noises. The Tempest (in a frenzy of excitement), I have it. It shall be called ' The Tempest. Boy, be at the Black- friar Theatre early tomorrow morning. You ' ll be rewarded for your trouble. (The clock strikes two A.M.) Ben Jonson: Well — I, for one, am off to bed. Tomorrow will be a heavy day for me. I ' m taking young Herrick to court to show him how a masque is produced. I ' m doing it for His Majesty ' s birthday. Goodnight, Annie, my love. f Beaumont and Fletcher: We ' ll be going along, too. Goodnight, Ben. Goodnight.