Gulliver's Travels: a play by Farhana Sheikh after Jonathan Swift

By Farhana Sheikh

Squire: What's this? Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World by Lemuel Gulliver ? Francis: Gulliver's Travels, my lord. Squire: Ah, the Reverend Swift! Splendid story. Big people and little people. Steward: Very well-known, sir. Francis: My lord, to be frank, it s not only a matter of big and little. There are things about it, sir, words are spoken, certain actions performed that... Squire: Perform it now. For our pleasure. Or Henry here will how would you put it, Steward? Steward: Dance from the end of a rope, sir. England 1727. Landed power and summary justice. A troupe of travelling players is commanded to put on a show. If they fail to please, one of their number will die. In the shadow of the gallows, they perform Swift s masterpiece. But how can the reckless and uproarious satire of Gulliver ever satisfy the powerful and move them to mercy? This play, the latest adaptation of the book, is also the most successful. Heinz Kosok: The Captain s Ultimate Island: Gulliver s Travels on the Stage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brown Dog Books
• Release date: Mar 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781839521188

Book preview

SITE ONE

The Squire’s estate. Squire greets the audience. He’s accompanied by his steward. In the background, Henry, sleeping. Not far away, an empty gibbet.

Squire: So, so. Neighbours, guests, you are welcome. Even the French, you are welcome all. I am an improver, neighbours. I have improved everything. All that you see, all that around you lies – this splendid park, these long prospects – all of it was wasteland once, wasn’t it, Steward?

Steward: Bog and marsh, sir, in the old days.

Squire: Where common folks kept their honking geese and cattle. Now look, the land is mine, and what things have I done with it. I am an improving old dog, ain’t I?

Steward: You are sir, an improving old dog.

Squire: (Indicating audience.) Look at them. They’ll have their money’s worth tonight. A grand tour of the estate, a glass of the Squire’s beer. Ain’t that good?

Steward: It is, sir. Well worth a sovereign.

Squire: But take care. All is not entirely well. Is it, Steward?

Steward: It’s very bad, sir.

Henry stirs.

Squire: The places hereabout – they look peaceable, don’t they? Don’t let appearances take you in. They are teeming with ill-designing and disorderly persons who have associated themselves, under the name of Blacks. They black up their faces, don’t you know, for disguise. And these persons have entered into confederacies, to do such things against me ... I cannot speak of them.

Steward: They’ve got a grudge, sir, against landowners.

Squire: Grudge, be damned.

Steward: They want the old days back, sir, when the land was common.

Squire: It’s 1727, man, not the Dark Ages. Read out the notice.

Steward: If any person or persons shall unlawfully and wilfully hunt, wound, kill, destroy or steal any red or fallow deer, or appear with faces blacked or otherwise disguised, in any forest, chase, park or paddock ...

Squire: The punishment, man.

Steward: Every person so offending, being thereof lawfully convicted, shall be adjudged guilty of felony, and shall suffer ... death.

Squire: Death! So says the law. But see, you must take care. Stay together for this grand tour. Hold onto your bags. Everywhere there are cutpurses, like wolves in the night, roaming for prey. Come,